door!’
“Well, you can imagine. He did. Mavis stepped on and popped right up to Florence and Floyd and said, ‘You think you so smart, you got another think coming.’ Then she turned to the driver. ‘Drive!’
“‘No, ma’am. I can’t do that.’
“‘Why not? You done lost your nerve?’
“‘No ma’am, but I can’t go nowhere if you ain’t got no ticket. A gun ain’t the price of admission to this bus.’
“‘Hell, man, I could kill you dead.’
“‘Yep, you could. But I don’t think you’re gonna.’
“And he was right. Because Mavis Tallbutton may have been crazy, but she wasn’t that crazy, so it was what we call a Mexican standoff. Except that by this time there were people out in the street who had noticed when Mavis had blasted her way through the bus door, and they had called the police who had surrounded the Greyhound like Indians around a wagon. American Indians.”
“I didn’t think you meant India Indians.”
“I didn’t.” Julia grinned. “Well, Mavis hadn’t gone this far to give up just like that, so she held them off as long as she could.”
“How long was that?”
“A good thirty hours. Until she fell asleep.”
“People must have gotten awfully cranky on that bus.”
“Well, they did. It wasn’t exactly a picnic. But luckily it wasn’t too full, and it did have a bathroom. Mavis would let them go, one at a time, if they promised not to try any funny stuff. And she did let the police toss tuna fish sandwiches and canned Co-Colas in through the windows. One man was really courting disaster, though, when he said if they didn’t mind, he’d prefer some pork barbecue to tuna fish.”
“Uh-oh. And then eventually she fell asleep?”
“Yep. Just nodded off and the bus driver reached over and took the shotgun out of her hands and that was it. The police took her off to jail.”
“So what’s this about autopsying the pig? Why autopsy a barbecued pig? Didn’t they eat it anyway?”
“Sure. Miss Hazel gave her all for one hell of a party. No, it wasn’t that pig. I thought you didn’t know this story anyway.”
“I didn’t. But Beau said—”
“Beau Talbot? That handsome thing! Honey, you know there are women around here have considered committing crimes just so he would come to the scene. I’d forgotten you knew him.”
“We used to go out when we were kids.”
“Uh-huh. And?” Julia’s tongue flicked at the corner of her mouth as if licking strawberry ice cream.
“Now, Julia, I can’t believe you’ve missed Beau Talbot in your travels.”
For it was a well-known fact, well-known because she told anyone who would listen all about it, that Julia Townley had sampled most of the better manflesh that was worth bothering with in the state of Georgia.
Julia laughed her big laugh. “Honey, I’ve missed a few. Though I’ve always regretted that one.”
“Well, he’s right there in Atlanta. Help yourself. Now go on. Finish up about this pig.”
“All right. The pig they’re autopsying isn’t Miss Hazel. It’s one of those of Florence’s that died when the barn burned down. They’re trying to determine if they all died of smoke inhalation and running their heads into the walls or if Mavis had poisoned them.”
“Who cares?”
“Well, the prosecutor does. They’re throwing everything at Mavis but the kitchen sink. I guess they need to decide if she murdered all of Florence’s pigs on purpose or accidentally, in addition to burning down the barn and shooting and hijacking the bus.”
Sam finished up the last bite of her onion rings and the last swallow of her fourth iced tea and sat, grinning. “Hoke’s not going to like this at all.”
“Hoke Toliver?”
“You know Hoke?”
“Ummm-hummm.” Julia grinned that kind of grin.
Sam reached for her wallet. “Hold it. I don’t want to know about it.”
“Don’t you think that crew cut’s cute?” Julia laughed. And then she reached over and swatted Sam with the back of
“Well, you can imagine. He did. Mavis stepped on and popped right up to Florence and Floyd and said, ‘You think you so smart, you got another think coming.’ Then she turned to the driver. ‘Drive!’
“‘No, ma’am. I can’t do that.’
“‘Why not? You done lost your nerve?’
“‘No ma’am, but I can’t go nowhere if you ain’t got no ticket. A gun ain’t the price of admission to this bus.’
“‘Hell, man, I could kill you dead.’
“‘Yep, you could. But I don’t think you’re gonna.’
“And he was right. Because Mavis Tallbutton may have been crazy, but she wasn’t that crazy, so it was what we call a Mexican standoff. Except that by this time there were people out in the street who had noticed when Mavis had blasted her way through the bus door, and they had called the police who had surrounded the Greyhound like Indians around a wagon. American Indians.”
“I didn’t think you meant India Indians.”
“I didn’t.” Julia grinned. “Well, Mavis hadn’t gone this far to give up just like that, so she held them off as long as she could.”
“How long was that?”
“A good thirty hours. Until she fell asleep.”
“People must have gotten awfully cranky on that bus.”
“Well, they did. It wasn’t exactly a picnic. But luckily it wasn’t too full, and it did have a bathroom. Mavis would let them go, one at a time, if they promised not to try any funny stuff. And she did let the police toss tuna fish sandwiches and canned Co-Colas in through the windows. One man was really courting disaster, though, when he said if they didn’t mind, he’d prefer some pork barbecue to tuna fish.”
“Uh-oh. And then eventually she fell asleep?”
“Yep. Just nodded off and the bus driver reached over and took the shotgun out of her hands and that was it. The police took her off to jail.”
“So what’s this about autopsying the pig? Why autopsy a barbecued pig? Didn’t they eat it anyway?”
“Sure. Miss Hazel gave her all for one hell of a party. No, it wasn’t that pig. I thought you didn’t know this story anyway.”
“I didn’t. But Beau said—”
“Beau Talbot? That handsome thing! Honey, you know there are women around here have considered committing crimes just so he would come to the scene. I’d forgotten you knew him.”
“We used to go out when we were kids.”
“Uh-huh. And?” Julia’s tongue flicked at the corner of her mouth as if licking strawberry ice cream.
“Now, Julia, I can’t believe you’ve missed Beau Talbot in your travels.”
For it was a well-known fact, well-known because she told anyone who would listen all about it, that Julia Townley had sampled most of the better manflesh that was worth bothering with in the state of Georgia.
Julia laughed her big laugh. “Honey, I’ve missed a few. Though I’ve always regretted that one.”
“Well, he’s right there in Atlanta. Help yourself. Now go on. Finish up about this pig.”
“All right. The pig they’re autopsying isn’t Miss Hazel. It’s one of those of Florence’s that died when the barn burned down. They’re trying to determine if they all died of smoke inhalation and running their heads into the walls or if Mavis had poisoned them.”
“Who cares?”
“Well, the prosecutor does. They’re throwing everything at Mavis but the kitchen sink. I guess they need to decide if she murdered all of Florence’s pigs on purpose or accidentally, in addition to burning down the barn and shooting and hijacking the bus.”
Sam finished up the last bite of her onion rings and the last swallow of her fourth iced tea and sat, grinning. “Hoke’s not going to like this at all.”
“Hoke Toliver?”
“You know Hoke?”
“Ummm-hummm.” Julia grinned that kind of grin.
Sam reached for her wallet. “Hold it. I don’t want to know about it.”
“Don’t you think that crew cut’s cute?” Julia laughed. And then she reached over and swatted Sam with the back of
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