Blue Plate Slayer Page 2

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Brody said, looking at his watch. “The girls and Red should be in the air.”

  “Actually, I think they should be landing right about now, Brody,” Junior said. “But they’re missing out on all this nice scenery.”

  “Yep. This is the way to travel,” Jake agreed. “And don’t forget, we’re going to spend most of the day tomorrow in the Smokey Mountains. I brought along my ukulele, because I’ve always wanted to sing On Top of Old Smokey when I was actually there.”

  Jake began humming the tune to the song.

  “Um...I think that’s the melody to On Top of Spaghetti, Pops. You got the songs mixed up.”

  Junior began to sing the childhood parody:

  On top of spaghetti

  All covered with cheese,

  I lost my poor meatball

  When somebody sneezed.

  Brody and Smoke joined in, as Jake just shook his head:

  It rolled off the table

  And onto the floor,

  And then my poor meatball

  Rolled out of the door.

  They pulled into the campgrounds just after sunset and got a secluded spot near Lytle Creek.

  “Pretty cheap for this little tent spot,” Junior said.

  “Yeah, well, this rusty tin bucket doesn’t have any hookups for plumbing and cooking anyway,” Brody said. “It might get a little chilly in there tonight, but there are plenty of sleeping bags and blankets to keep us warm.”

  Smoke set about getting the grill ready for cooking while the others gathered kindling and dry branches for a campfire.

  “It’s nice that they provided a stack of firewood for us,” Junior said.

  “Well,” his dad answered, “they know people will chop down the forest if they don’t.”

  “Good point, Jake,” Brody said, looking a little like Smokey the Bear as he put on his Sheriff’s hat. “There’s plenty of dead branches on the ground for kindling too. And there should be some old newspaper under the seats in back if we need it.”

  “It sure got dark fast,” Smoke said as he walked into the trees, looking at the sky. “There’s no moon, and I can hardly see the sky with all these tall trees.”

  “They have an actual restroom and shower just down the road there, Smoke,” Junior told him. “You don’t have to go in the bushes.”

  “Just a quick Number One.”

  “I think I’ll put my own steak on the grill,” Brody muttered to himself.

  “Don’t worry. I brought a big jug of hand sanitizer.”

  Brody wasn’t sure if Smoke had heard his mutterings or not, but Smoke hadn’t heard him.

  Brody was extending the tattered green awning from the side of his old camper when he heard a large branch snap and a loud grunt coming from the trees. Seconds later, Smoke came running out of the trees, pulling up his zipper. His eyes were wide, but he didn’t speak right away.

  “You gotta be careful in there, Smoke” Jake told him. “It’s easy to trip over those broken branches. There’re a lot of them, I’m sure, since that big storm came through last week.”

  Smoke was as white as a sheet and just shook his head. Then they heard another wild sound getting farther away in the forest. It sounded like someone – or something – was running through the trees.

  “There’s something out there!” Smoke finally said, his voice excited and a little shaky. “That wasn’t me that snapped that branch or made those crazy sounds.”

  Brody just shrugged and continued setting up the awning. “There are no wild animals around these sites,” he said. “The DNR and the campgrounds keep things safe. Probably just some teenage kids having fun with us old guys.”

  But the Carter men were not convinced.

  “That sounded like a pretty big branch that broke out there,” Jake said. “Kids couldn’t do that. And that yowl was no human, I’ll tell ya that.”

  Junior’s eyes were wide and purposeful, but more excited than frightened. “It’s the Florida Bigfoot,” he said with certainty. “They call it the Skunk Ape because it stinks like rotting cabbage.”

  Jake snapped his fingers in agreement. “That’s it! It’s the swampsquatch. I’ve heard about that on one of them TV shows on the Real Conspiracy Channel.”

  “Settle down, guys,” Brody said, holding his cellphone high to get a better signal. “I’m sure that’s a lot of nonsense. Let’s see what it says here.”

  He read from his phone and then told the others what he found out.

  “Okay, even if there is such a thing as that Florida swamp ape, it says here that it’s only been seen in Florida, North Carolina, and Arkansas. And there were a few reports of something like that in Louisiana. So, nothing to worry about.”

  A foul stench wafted in from the trees, and Smoke was the first to smell it.

  “Don’t be so sure, Brody,” he said. “I don’t usually go along with these darned-fool theories, but I smell something pretty skunky and foul, and I heard the thing up close. It’s a beast, I tell you!”

  “And how do you suppose they get from North Carolina to Arkansas?” Jake asked.

  “Well, I don’t think they would let them on trains,” Junior said, searching for an answer in the sky. “So, they probably walk.”

  “Probably so,” Jake nodded. “And what’s in between North Carolina and Arkansas?”

  “Um, trees and mountains, I guess,” Junior answered. “And maybe some lakes and rivers and stuff.”

  “Tennessee!” Jake said.

  “Oh!” Junior said, thoughtfully scratching the side of his head. “And we’re right in the middle of Tennessee! So, it has to be a Skunk Ape then. Wow!”

  “Really, guys?” Brody had his hands on his hips and was shaking his head. “That’s the only possibility? It has to be a legendary creature that no one has ever seen or captured on film? I’m pretty sure there are a lot more possibilities.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Smoke said walking over to the grill and throwing a couple of lit wooden matches onto the charcoal, “but I know I’ll be using the indoor plumbing from now on.”

  Jake and Junior were by the camper, putting on their bright red jackets and caps. Jake had a shotgun with him too.

  “Well, we’ll let you know what we find,” Jake said.

  “And we’ll be back for dinner in half an hour,” Junior added. “Medium for me, Smoke.”

  “And extra-well-done for me,” Jake told him. “I like my steaks cremated. No vegetables; lots of potatoes.”

  “The vegetable is my barbecued beans, Jake,” Smoke said, shooting him a direct look.

  “Okay, then lots of vegetables and lots of potatoes.”

  Chapter Four

  We walked Under the elaborate sign above the entrance to the bridal shop at 10:00 a.m. sharp. It read: Gina Stenfield’s Bridal, since 1933. We had our invitation letter in hand. Well...in Deloris’s hair, actually. Her beehive was more secure than some flimsy purse. The exclusive shop was in the Buckminster Galleria – the Rodeo Drive of Atlanta – in a high-class suburb just north of the city. We entered the classy establishment directly through the large stone-arch street entrance rather than going through the mall. Beautiful white gowns lined the entryway on tiny-waisted mannequins in glamorous poses.

  “These gowns are amazing!” Ruby whispered to me. “This place makes Amy’s Bridal Shop back home look like Saver’s Mart.”

  “You don’t have to whisper, ladies,” Deloris said, turning her neck from side to side. “It’s not a church. Just a retail store.”

  Maybe so, but it felt like a retail store for angels in heaven. The warm scent of vanilla in the air and the echo of our heels in the long vestibule had me expecting to see statues of saints and a baptismal font any minute now.

  There was a reception desk before the main showroom, but nobody was there. Thin, gorgeous women and dainty men in bow ties and suspenders zoomed through the great room before us in every direction, carrying gowns and clipboards toward partie
s in every nook of the huge, circular showroom.

  Deloris handed the invitation to Babs. “Here, Babsy. You and Red wave someone down. I want to look at this gown over here with Mercy.”

  She saw that a sleek gown with an A-line skirt and poufy shoulders had caught my eye, and Ruby was waving us over to come and look at it. Deloris took my arm, and we walked several steps over to the exquisite display. The dress had a silvery belt and bling, but it was still simple and understated.

  “Yoo hoo!” Babs said sweetly to a middle-aged woman with flawless hair and makeup and her nose in the air.

  The woman looked irritated as she approached Babs and Red.

  “Yes? If you’re looking for the thrift store, you’re on the wrong side of town.”

  “Oh, no ma’am,” Babs said pleasantly. “We’re in the right place!” She handed the woman the invitation and gave her a big smile.

  “Mercy,” Deloris whispered to me, “I’m pretty sure that’s the famous designer, Petorina Verducci. I saw her on the show last year. Her gowns are popular with big celebrities – and very expensive too.”

  “I think you’re right,” I said, nodding toward a big banner with her name and photo on the other side of the showroom.

  Petorina looked over the invitation letter. Her eyes grew wide as she finished reading it, and she got a horrified look on her face as she eyeballed Babs from head to toe.

  “Daniel!” She shrieked, turning to face the showroom. All heads turned towards her. “Daniel Taormina, where are you! Come here right this minute!”

  A man way across the room nodded, put down an armful of gowns, and trotted quickly towards her. He was taller and more muscular than the other men, but he wore the same tan khaki pants, black horn-rimmed glasses, pink bow tie, and powder blue suspenders.

  “That’s Dandy Dan, the star of This Dress Is the Best!” Deloris told me softly.

  “Daniel,” Petorina said loudly in a scolding tone as he approached, “this is what you brought me here for? You want me to dress this...this...this rotund hillbilly?”

  My jaw dropped, and I took a step toward my dear friend, Babs. Deloris put her hand on my shoulder to stop me.

  “Hold on, girl. Babsy’s got this.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” Babs said, quite outraged.

  Petorina continued her rant to Dandy Dan. “I will not be made the laughingstock of wedding gown designers around the world. I don’t care if this creature saved ten orphans from a raging inferno or found the cure to cancer. I won’t do it! I won’t put her in one of my gowns!”

  “But, Pet,” Dan said to her scowling countenance, “Petorina...Miss Verducci, we have a contract.”

  “I don’t know who you think you are, Missy,” Babs said, maintaining control of herself, “but I’ll have you know that my mother went to school with Loretta Lynn in Butcher Holler. My daddy was a coal miner, not a moonshiner. So, technically, we are NOT hillbillies. My daddy came from Pigeon Flat, Ohio, and he isn’t even hardly related to my momma. At least, they’re not like second cousins or anything. And I’m not rotund; I’m just big-boned.”

  Babs was shaking slightly as the shocked designer looked at her incredulously.

  “And I’m not the bride,” Babs continued. “I’m one of the bridesmaids.”

  Petorina turned to face Red as a ghastly looked appeared on her face.

  “Not me!” Red said.

  “The bride’s over there, Ms. Verducky.” Babs said, reading the big sign with her picture on it and nodding toward Deloris, Ruby, and me.

  “Vair-DOO-chee! Vair-DOO-chee!” Petorina said shaking her head and muttering insults under her breath.

  The designer looked at us and let out a sigh of relief. She put a hand on her chest and walked directly towards Ruby, who has those beauty queen good looks. She embraced her tightly.

  “Of course, you will be a beautiful bride in one of my gowns, dear. Mercy was it?” she said, looking at the letter still in her hand.

  “Oh, no, Miss Verducci,” Ruby told her. “I’m Ruby, the maid of honor. This is Mercy. She’s the bride.” She gave me an excited smile.

  I’d had about enough of this pretentious baloney, but I stood there as the lady studied my body.

  “Mmhmm...mmhmm...hmmm.” She walked from one side of me to the other with a pained look on her face. “Well, a bit bony, narrow hips, not a lot up here to work with,” she said, squeezing one of my breasts, “but perhaps...”

  That did it. “Actually,” I said, “I think I’ve made a big mistake. I saw a nice gown online that I would be very happy with. Come on, ladies...Red. Let’s get out of here. We’ll have an early lunch and then see some sites. Good day!”

  I turned, and the others began to follow as Dandy Dan scurried up swiftly, pulling the designer dragon lady by the elbow.

  “Miss Howard, please!” he said. “I know things got off to a precarious start, but thousands of people will be tuning in to see the beautiful lady detective and diner proprietor that they fell in love with. We’ve been promoting your appearance for weeks, and the show has directed hundreds of people to your funding page. Please stay. You want your wedding to be perfect, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Taormina. My friends are more important to me than a wedding dress.” I gave Petorina a dour look. “And you can have all the money from the fund if you’d like. Good day.”

  “Miss Howard,” he said, pulling Petorina directly in front of me. “Miss Verducci has something she’d like to say to you.” He nodded at the woman, and she hesitated. But she knew what she had to do.

  “Yyyes...yes...Miss Howard. I’m so sorry if I offended you.”

  My eyes guided hers over to Babs.

  She looked at me and then at Dan. She cleared her throat and looked at Babs with a terse smile.

  “And, Miss...”

  “Babs.”

  “Miss Babs. You are a strong and lovely woman. It would be my honor to make you the loveliest bridesmaid in the history of weddings, if you will be so kind as to give me a chance.”

  Huh. It almost sounded sincere.

  “And Petorina will pick up the tab for your dress, Miss Babs,” Dandy Dan said, garnering an initial scowl from the designer.

  “Of course,” she said, forcing a smile. “My treat!”

  Babs looked at me with hopeful eyes, wanting my consent.

  “It’s up to you, Babs. If you want Miss Verducci to dress you, then we will all stay. If not, we’ll go.”

  “Yes!” she said excitedly. She lunged forward, hugging Petorina tightly for a moment, and then releasing the stunned woman. “I want to wear an original Arrivederci dress! Yes! Yes!”

  The woman tried to hide a slight eye roll. “Splendid!”

  The mood became bubbly and exciting immediately as Dan guided us toward the showroom.

  “Actually,” I said, stopping by the A-line dress we had been admiring, “I kind of like this gown right here.”

  Petorina gasped. “Oh, my goodness, dear. No! That’s last year’s design from the House of Bonnie LeToure. She’s not a real designer – not for weddings, anyway. Though some of her outfits would make nice smocks for the waitresses at your little eatery. Really, Mercy, I wouldn’t be caught dead in that gown! Let me show you some of my brand-new designs, never worn by any bride – fresh from the runways of Paris and Milan. You will be the first to wear one of my brand-new designs! I’ll even embargo the gown you choose from being used by anyone else until after your wedding day.”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked at Ruby for her input. She nodded.

  “Sure. Why not!” I said.

  Dandy Dan brought us to the biggest area for bridal parties at the very center of the enormous showroom. It was brightly lit for TV and had a long white velvet sofa for my team and a raised platform and mirror for me to show off and look at all the dresses I would try on.

  A large rolling camera was on each side of the sofa, and a third hand-held camera was manned by a young man, assisted by a
sound woman. They were already filming us.

  Two producers with headsets and attached microphones, a man and a woman, came over to our group and greeted us.

  “Miss Howard!” The man welcomed me warmly and shook my hand with both of his. “I’m Peter Johns, the director. I’ll get your bridal party and father mic’d up and go over the show format with them...”

  “Actually, Red is a lifelong friend of the family and one of the groomsmen,” I told him.

  “Good to know. And our executive producer, Isabel Lima, will personally escort you to the dressing room with a female camera crew to get you ready for your gown selection.”

  Isabel extended her hand to me and smiled brightly. “Hi, Mercy! I followed your ordeal through that terrible murder and fire, and I just had to get you on my show. You were always so classy and composed – except, of course, when the Sheriff proposed to you.”

  There was video of that? On TV? Yikes...but I would like to see it and save it. “Yes, well, I wasn’t quite prepared for that, Isabel!”

  “Call me Izzy.”

  Izzy was a petite little thing, less than five feet tall, as slender and well-proportioned as a Barbie doll, and with the most perfect golden-brown skin I had ever seen. She wore a very short but colorful batik dress that reminded me of bazaars and flea markets I had been to.

  “I love your taupe lipstick, Izzy. And your cobalt blue lacquer nails. Very chic!”

  She let out a single syllable of laughter. “Huh. Thanks! You’ll never catch me in red lipstick or nails, Mercy.”

  I rolled my hot pink lips inward to make them invisible, and Izzy immediately grabbed my hand with both of hers.

  “Oh, lord, Mercy! If I were a tall gorgeous blonde I would wear nothing else! But reds just don’t work with my skin tones and wardrobe. Well, you’re dressing room is this way,” she said taking my arm. “Let’s get started!”

  “So, you’re the executive producer, Izzy? Wow! Doesn’t that mean that this is like, your show?”

  “Yes, This Dress Is the Best! is all mine!”