Dead and Buried by Jennifer Rebecca

Author:Jennifer Rebecca [Rebecca, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jennifer Rebecca
Published: 2017-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Investigation Shmestigation

“So what does Bitty Sue being a tramp have to do with her death? I still feel like I’m missing something here, guys,” I address the room.

“Maybe it was a jealous lover?” Granny asks.

“You’re not sure?” I shoot back.

“Well . . . ,” she hedges.

“What do you mean ‘well . . .’?” I rally. “Do you even think something is really going on here, or are we just going on a wild-goose chase? Because I have to tell you, ladies, I don’t have it in me right now.”

“What your grandmother is trying to say, child, is that we saw the evidence ourselves,” Marla says in her soft voice.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Granny cheers.

“No, what are you talking about?” Both women groan and share a frustrated look. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. You both had better start at the beginning.”

“So, it’s like Marla was saying before Trent got up on that big, ugly high horse.”

“Granny, don’t be mean,” I scold.

“Ugh. Okay. Fine. All I’m saying is that it’s going to be a doozy of a fall off that one,” she gripes.“Granny. I don’t have time for this,” I warn.

“Yeah, Verna. Shit or get off the pot,” Marla chimes in.

“So, as I was saying, Marla and I decided to go into Bitty Sue’s apartment before her family got here to clean it out.”

“Which, as Trent informed you, is illegal, but go on,” I sigh.

“Hey, she owes me money!” Granny defends.

“Me too,” Marla adds.

“Okay, let’s move past the illegal debt collection. What happened after you went to the apartment?” I ask, trying to placate them. I need to get this show on the road before we’re all as dead as Bitty Sue of natural causes.

“No, it’s what happened in the apartment,” Marla answers.

“Right, so we let ourselves into Bitty Sue’s place,” Granny begins. We went to that ugly little doggie cookie jar she keeps in the kitchen. No money . . .”

“Granny.”

“Then we looked in her flour jar. Again, no money.”

“I’m not sure I should be hearing this . . .” I give them the side-eye.

“Then we went into her bathroom and lifted the lid off of the toilet tank. Again, no money.”

“You two are kind of frightening.”

“Then we realized we had to go into her bedroom, which we did not want to do for a variety of reasons—the main two being that one, rumor on the street is she died there . . .”

“What street?”

“And two, we could catch the clap or any number of those icky things from her sheets,” Marla finishes for Granny. “I didn’t live to be eighty-two just to catch a wayward case of venereal disease.” She shudders.

“So we opened the door and looked at her bed. Bitty Sue was crazy enough that she just might have put all her money in her mattress. But when Marla and I started moving the pillows off the bed to get a good look at the mattress, we noticed something strange.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Her makeup was on the pillowcase,” Marla tells me.

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