You Can't Get Blood Out of Shag Carpet: A Study Club Cozy Murder Mystery (The Study Club Mysteries Book 1) by Juliette Harper
Authors: Juliette Harper
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the coffin, underwear comes first."
Clara and Sugar came to the church straight from helping transport food from Rolene's house to the Catholic Annex. As they loaded those ten bowls of fruit salad in the back of Clara’s Ford Fairlane, Rolene declared to all present, “If these don’t get eaten today, you all throw them out. When the sun goes down, I don’t want one damn thing in my house made with Jello. You all hear me talking?”
They had, indeed, heard her talking. In fact, she was talking loudly enough for those standing nearest to her to understand immediately that Rolene had taken her morning coffee with a sweetener stronger than a saccharin tablet. “Can you imagine!” Clara said, putting the Fairlane in gear and carefully backing out of Rolene’s driveway. “Drinking the morning of her brother-in-law’s funeral!”
“You have to drink at funerals, Clara,” Sugar said, glancing nervously over her shoulder into the back seat as the fruit salad bowls clinked. “It’s the only way to survive the damn things.”
“Well, I know that!” Clara said. “But for heaven’s sake, not before the service! That’s just acting like white trash!”
Sugar, knowing she would be unable to smoke for the duration of the funeral, lit her fourth Camel of the morning. “Wanda Jean sure did rise above her raising,” she agreed, holding her lighter steady with both hands as she puffed the cigarette to life. “She’s got way better manners than Rolene.”
Blessedly sober volunteers from the Baptist Women's Circle would remain at the Catholic Annex during the funeral to refrigerate new food arrivals, take down the names of the donors, and ensure that gallons of coffee were ready when people began to arrive from the cemetery.
Wilma and Mae Ella caught up with Clara and Sugar at the Annex in time to help them carry the bowls of fruit salad inside. Then, the four of them piled back into Clara’s car for the short drive to the Baptist church. On the ride over, they finalized the details of their plan to seat themselves strategically in the sanctuary. As they discussed the arrangement, Clara glanced in the rear view mirror at Mae Ella, seated in back with Wilma. "I do not want to hear any audible grumbling from you during the service, Sister," she warned.
"I wasn't raised in a barn, Clara," Mae Ella said. "I know better than to talk in church."
Catching Wilma's eye, Clara mouthed, "Watch her."
"I saw that," Mae Ella snapped.
"Well, it's your own fault," Clara said, refusing to back down. "You don't always have to say whatever it is that you're thinking the minute you think it, Mae Ella."
"It’s not my fault that I'm right most of the time," Mae Ella muttered, just as the church came into view. “Land of Goshen!” Mae Ella exclaimed. "It’s worse than we thought!"
Townspeople stood six deep in front of the church, waiting for the doors to open, with more milling around in the parking lot and on the sidewalk. "How are we going to get through that?" Sugar said.
"For starters," Clara said, "we're going down the alley. Hang onto your girdles, ladies."
Cutting the wheel sharply to the right and jostling her passengers in every direction, Clara bounced the Fairlane down the alley and came to a jolting stop by the church’s backdoor. She turned to Mae Ella and said, "I do hope you’ve got your key?"
"I do," Mae Ella said, digging through her purse and coming up with a single silver key on a giveaway key chain from the First National Bank.
In answer to questioning looks from Sugar and Wilma, Mae Ella said, "Well, for heaven's sake! I didn't take the fool thing! Brother Bob gave it to me for Vacation Bible School last summer and I just haven't gotten around to giving it back."
The women let themselves in the church and walked as quietly through the deserted hallways outside the Sunday School rooms as their high heels would allow. They stopped dead in their tracks, however, when they saw the light on in Brother Bob's
Clara and Sugar came to the church straight from helping transport food from Rolene's house to the Catholic Annex. As they loaded those ten bowls of fruit salad in the back of Clara’s Ford Fairlane, Rolene declared to all present, “If these don’t get eaten today, you all throw them out. When the sun goes down, I don’t want one damn thing in my house made with Jello. You all hear me talking?”
They had, indeed, heard her talking. In fact, she was talking loudly enough for those standing nearest to her to understand immediately that Rolene had taken her morning coffee with a sweetener stronger than a saccharin tablet. “Can you imagine!” Clara said, putting the Fairlane in gear and carefully backing out of Rolene’s driveway. “Drinking the morning of her brother-in-law’s funeral!”
“You have to drink at funerals, Clara,” Sugar said, glancing nervously over her shoulder into the back seat as the fruit salad bowls clinked. “It’s the only way to survive the damn things.”
“Well, I know that!” Clara said. “But for heaven’s sake, not before the service! That’s just acting like white trash!”
Sugar, knowing she would be unable to smoke for the duration of the funeral, lit her fourth Camel of the morning. “Wanda Jean sure did rise above her raising,” she agreed, holding her lighter steady with both hands as she puffed the cigarette to life. “She’s got way better manners than Rolene.”
Blessedly sober volunteers from the Baptist Women's Circle would remain at the Catholic Annex during the funeral to refrigerate new food arrivals, take down the names of the donors, and ensure that gallons of coffee were ready when people began to arrive from the cemetery.
Wilma and Mae Ella caught up with Clara and Sugar at the Annex in time to help them carry the bowls of fruit salad inside. Then, the four of them piled back into Clara’s car for the short drive to the Baptist church. On the ride over, they finalized the details of their plan to seat themselves strategically in the sanctuary. As they discussed the arrangement, Clara glanced in the rear view mirror at Mae Ella, seated in back with Wilma. "I do not want to hear any audible grumbling from you during the service, Sister," she warned.
"I wasn't raised in a barn, Clara," Mae Ella said. "I know better than to talk in church."
Catching Wilma's eye, Clara mouthed, "Watch her."
"I saw that," Mae Ella snapped.
"Well, it's your own fault," Clara said, refusing to back down. "You don't always have to say whatever it is that you're thinking the minute you think it, Mae Ella."
"It’s not my fault that I'm right most of the time," Mae Ella muttered, just as the church came into view. “Land of Goshen!” Mae Ella exclaimed. "It’s worse than we thought!"
Townspeople stood six deep in front of the church, waiting for the doors to open, with more milling around in the parking lot and on the sidewalk. "How are we going to get through that?" Sugar said.
"For starters," Clara said, "we're going down the alley. Hang onto your girdles, ladies."
Cutting the wheel sharply to the right and jostling her passengers in every direction, Clara bounced the Fairlane down the alley and came to a jolting stop by the church’s backdoor. She turned to Mae Ella and said, "I do hope you’ve got your key?"
"I do," Mae Ella said, digging through her purse and coming up with a single silver key on a giveaway key chain from the First National Bank.
In answer to questioning looks from Sugar and Wilma, Mae Ella said, "Well, for heaven's sake! I didn't take the fool thing! Brother Bob gave it to me for Vacation Bible School last summer and I just haven't gotten around to giving it back."
The women let themselves in the church and walked as quietly through the deserted hallways outside the Sunday School rooms as their high heels would allow. They stopped dead in their tracks, however, when they saw the light on in Brother Bob's
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