Merry Wives of Maggody by Joan Hess

do you think of this tontine crap?”
    I sat down on a battle-scarred pew. “I haven’t heard about that. It has to do with the bass boat, I suppose.”
    “It’s based on the very feeble assumption that one of them will actually make a hole-in-one. Jim Bob’s idea, naturally. He had some lawyer draw up the document, but I’m not sure that it’s legal on account of providing the members with too much incentive to bump each other off. You ever read The Wrong Box by Robert Louis Stevenson? A tontine may work as a plot in mystery novels, but even then it’s far-fetched.”
    I realized that Kevin had been groping for the word when he was at the PD. A tutu was a lot more amusing. “The usual suspects?”
    “Pretty much. Jim Bob, Larry Joe, Jeremiah, Earl, Big Dick, Ruddy, Rip, Tam, Kevin—that makes nine. Lemme think. Yeah, and Bopeep’s current boyfriend, a guy named Luke Smithers. You know anything about him?”
    “He drinks a lot of beer at Ruby Bee’s. Other than that, I haven’t had any reason to waste time speculating about him. Bopeep’s had more boyfriends than my apartment has roaches. Should I keep an eye on him?”
    Roy finally had his pipe smoldering to his satisfaction. “No, not that I know of. He seems kind of shiftless, but so do a lot of other people in this neck of the woods. If he were dumber and uglier, he’d make a fine Buchanon.”
    “Harsh words, Roy.”
    “You recall ol’ Bangcock Buchanon? He decided that squirrels were Russian spies, so he got a box of dynamite and blew himself to kingdom come.”
    Kevin’s tom-tom was nothing more than a silly, illegal document.
    My dream was shattered; Hizzoner was not a closet ballerina.
    • • •
    As soon as he could, Bony called an end to the final golf lesson. Most of his students were a menace to themselves, as well as anyone within fifty feet—and that was with a putter. He declined to stay for tea and brownies, and after unhappily agreeing to return for lunch, he hustled down the driveway to have a stiff drink before Aunt Eileen showed up.
    The ladies retired to Mrs. Jim Bob’s sunroom to fortify themselves for the following day’s challenge. Once they were all settled and cheerfully clucking among themselves, Audley Riley held up a hand. “I’d like to say something.” Since she rarely opened her mouth, the room fell silent. “Our husbands have come up with this nonsense about a tontine. Earlier this morning I called my nephew Bryce down in Little Rock on account of him being a lawyer. He told me that a tontine is where everybody signs an agreement that the prize belongs to the group. In the end, the last person alive gets it. Bryce says it’s not legal.”
    “Then why should we care?” asked Eileen.
    “Damn craziness,” Bopeep said. She realized that she’d stepped over the line, and quickly added, “Darn craziness, I meant to say. The men are acting like a bunch of grubby little boys that build a club house in the woods with a sign that says ‘No girls allowed.’ As if any girl with common sense would want to join.”
    Mrs. Jim Bob ignored the snickering as she thought it over. “It is craziness, I agree, but it bothers me. It’s like each one of us has to beat all ten of them. The odds don’t seem equal. If someone like Jeremiah wins, for instance, then all of our husbands benefit. That doesn’t sit right with me.”
    “You got a point,” Joyce said. “The very idea of Larry Joe getting a share of the boat even if he hits every ball in the rough…”
    “It’s just not right,” Millicent said firmly. “We should do something. Can we have them arrested, Audley?”
    “Bryce didn’t seem to think so. He said that it was unenforceable, that’s all. The winner gets the boat, and the losers can sue ’til the cows come home, but they can’t win in court. Being from Little Rock, Bryce doesn’t understand how things are enforced around here.”
    “I can’t see any of them backing out,” Eileen said, then