more famous dead than he ever was alive. And all thanks to me. By the way, can you run a camera? I might ask you to videotape some of the events. For my documentary. It’s easy as pie. Now I must get collected for today’s battle.”
She strode back into the room, and I could hear her ordering the coroner and paramedics around—or at least giving it her best effort.
“She is a piece of work,” Coleman said. “She doesn’t intend to let anything slow her down. Not even death.”
* * *
By eleven o’clock, I was hoping the poisoner would return and take Twist out. Boswell was barely cold and she was as good as her word. She intended to push forward with her exhumation. She’d rescheduled the press conference at the Lexington Odd Fellows Cemetery for one in the afternoon.
Frances Malone and the Daughters of the Supreme Confederacy were organizing a picket line. Members of the Heritage Pride Heroes, a national organization that claimed to have roots in honoring acts of home-front bravery, would likely put in an appearance. In my opinion, they were nothing more than a bastard offshoot of survivalist mentality organizations. This kind of shindig was right up their alley. It was all adding up to be a nasty confrontation.
Tinkie and I had no choice but to be there. Lexington was out of Coleman’s jurisdiction, so we couldn’t expect any help from him, though he was on standby in case the Holmes County sheriff needed him. I could only hope that Frances, Oscar, Cece, and others of influence had been able to convince Judge Colbert to block the petition to exhume. We’d find out when we reached Holmes County.
Tinkie drove this time, and I rode shotgun. Graf’s original plan to chauffeur us to the cemetery was crushed when his business calls yielded an interview for a voice-over job on an animated film—the role of a sexy wolfhound in a Disney production of Castle Dark, an intriguing tale of werewolves and vampires in Ireland. It was work Graf couldn’t turn down, and I was happy for him.
“Oscar is really mad at Buford,” Tinkie said, her focus on the highway but her thoughts clearly on her husband and family. “He is such a disappointment.”
“I don’t blame Oscar. Buford is a fool.”
“Oscar said, ‘Maybe they’ll shoot Buford, the silly bastard. Buford is a moron. He’s got a thousand rolls of toilet tissue and the IQ of a dead snail. I hope Coleman puts him under the jail.’”
Tinkie was damned good at impersonating her husband. And I thought I had acting chops. Something wasn’t right, though. “So why are you upset? Everything Oscar said is true.”
“There’re rumors that Buford also has weapons.”
I wanted to come up with a witty reply that would explain everything, only I couldn’t. “All those good ole boys have guns. It’s compensation for … well, men who are inadequate need to feel powerful in some fashion. Guns and killing helpless animals make them feel strong.”
“Oscar said if Buford gets arrested, I’m not to bail him out. He also said he’d cut off his allowance if he made a public jackass of himself.”
“A few weeks in jail might smarten him up.” Doubtful, but why dash her hopes.
Tinkie motioned she wanted to pull over. I needed a cup of coffee so I pointed out a fast-food drive-through. Tinkie eased off the highway and joined the line. An emotional storm moved across her face.
“What’s wrong?” Worry ate at her with sharp little teeth.
She ordered two coffees, and I didn’t press. The sun was hotter than six degrees of hell even with the air conditioner blowing hard. She found a shady spot and parked.
“Exactly what is wrong with Oscar?” I asked.
She checked the rearview mirror as if we were being followed. “I found this in his jacket pocket.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me.
Meet me tonight. Dr. Twist has fabricated material about your family. I have evidence, but it will cost you.
There was
She strode back into the room, and I could hear her ordering the coroner and paramedics around—or at least giving it her best effort.
“She is a piece of work,” Coleman said. “She doesn’t intend to let anything slow her down. Not even death.”
* * *
By eleven o’clock, I was hoping the poisoner would return and take Twist out. Boswell was barely cold and she was as good as her word. She intended to push forward with her exhumation. She’d rescheduled the press conference at the Lexington Odd Fellows Cemetery for one in the afternoon.
Frances Malone and the Daughters of the Supreme Confederacy were organizing a picket line. Members of the Heritage Pride Heroes, a national organization that claimed to have roots in honoring acts of home-front bravery, would likely put in an appearance. In my opinion, they were nothing more than a bastard offshoot of survivalist mentality organizations. This kind of shindig was right up their alley. It was all adding up to be a nasty confrontation.
Tinkie and I had no choice but to be there. Lexington was out of Coleman’s jurisdiction, so we couldn’t expect any help from him, though he was on standby in case the Holmes County sheriff needed him. I could only hope that Frances, Oscar, Cece, and others of influence had been able to convince Judge Colbert to block the petition to exhume. We’d find out when we reached Holmes County.
Tinkie drove this time, and I rode shotgun. Graf’s original plan to chauffeur us to the cemetery was crushed when his business calls yielded an interview for a voice-over job on an animated film—the role of a sexy wolfhound in a Disney production of Castle Dark, an intriguing tale of werewolves and vampires in Ireland. It was work Graf couldn’t turn down, and I was happy for him.
“Oscar is really mad at Buford,” Tinkie said, her focus on the highway but her thoughts clearly on her husband and family. “He is such a disappointment.”
“I don’t blame Oscar. Buford is a fool.”
“Oscar said, ‘Maybe they’ll shoot Buford, the silly bastard. Buford is a moron. He’s got a thousand rolls of toilet tissue and the IQ of a dead snail. I hope Coleman puts him under the jail.’”
Tinkie was damned good at impersonating her husband. And I thought I had acting chops. Something wasn’t right, though. “So why are you upset? Everything Oscar said is true.”
“There’re rumors that Buford also has weapons.”
I wanted to come up with a witty reply that would explain everything, only I couldn’t. “All those good ole boys have guns. It’s compensation for … well, men who are inadequate need to feel powerful in some fashion. Guns and killing helpless animals make them feel strong.”
“Oscar said if Buford gets arrested, I’m not to bail him out. He also said he’d cut off his allowance if he made a public jackass of himself.”
“A few weeks in jail might smarten him up.” Doubtful, but why dash her hopes.
Tinkie motioned she wanted to pull over. I needed a cup of coffee so I pointed out a fast-food drive-through. Tinkie eased off the highway and joined the line. An emotional storm moved across her face.
“What’s wrong?” Worry ate at her with sharp little teeth.
She ordered two coffees, and I didn’t press. The sun was hotter than six degrees of hell even with the air conditioner blowing hard. She found a shady spot and parked.
“Exactly what is wrong with Oscar?” I asked.
She checked the rearview mirror as if we were being followed. “I found this in his jacket pocket.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me.
Meet me tonight. Dr. Twist has fabricated material about your family. I have evidence, but it will cost you.
There was
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