Three Times Lucky by Sheila Turnage

Author:Sheila Turnage [Turnage, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9781101575598
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Deputy Marla

Dale went instantly famous. In fact, he’s all people talked about: Dale waving from Starr’s Impala, his handcuffs glinting. Dale being followed out by Miss Rose, Miss Lana, and me in the Pinto. Dale being released to Miss Rose with a warning not to leave the county. As if he had anywhere to go.

Fame changed him. He got in the Impala a terrified kid. He stepped out a rock star. If Miss Rose hadn’t already grounded him, he probably would have thrown himself a parade.

His faux-suspect status had another benefit: Attila lost her power over us. With Dale in fake custody, she couldn’t turn him in.

I dropped the lunch bill she’d stuck me with in the mail.

Meanwhile, Miss Lana grew quiet. On Saturday she closed the café and hung a wreath by the door.

“I don’t like it,” I told her, polishing off my cereal. “If the Colonel comes home and sees that wreath, it will scare him crazy.”

She looked up from the papers spread across our kitchen table. NPR hummed in the background. “There’s nothing wrong with the world taking note when a person dies, sugar,” she said. “Besides, I can’t write a eulogy while I’m feeding everybody in town. And I need my beauty rest. We’ll be center stage at the funeral tomorrow.”

“How’s the eulogy going?” I asked, peeking at her paper. It looked like my autobiography: false starts, scribble-throughs, cross-outs.

“Slow,” she admitted. “At the moment I’m listing things Jesse taught me. You might like to do the same.”

“Sounds … good,” I said. “I’ll be sure to do that.” I hovered until she looked up again. She laid her pen down, glanced at the clock, and took a deep breath. Her face was drawn, and her hands shook slightly. I recognized the symptoms: homework anxiety. Next she would crave salty foods. Then chocolate.

“Miss Lana, have you heard from the Colonel?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him yet, Mo,” she said, ironing the sharp out of her voice. “But today’s just his second day away.”

“But you’d think with a killer on the loose …”

“Let’s not worry unless there’s something to worry about.” She smiled. “I wonder if you’d do me a favor. Priscilla Retzyl has offered to arrange flowers for Jesse’s service, and I told her we’d drop some glads by.”

My mouth went dry. Please, God, not another road trip.

“The Underbird hasn’t recovered from our last drive,” I told her. “Lavender’s still got it. Besides, Joe Starr hangs around Miss Retzyl like a fly around sugar. If he sees you driving, you’ll be living with Dale’s people, in the slammer.”

She laughed. “I’ve sworn off driving, Mo,” she said. “I have no flair. But I cut a basket of glads for Priscilla this morning. Could you take them to her? They’re on the porch.”

Me? Visit a teacher? The tips of my fingers and toes tingled.

“Miss Lacy Thornton will be by in a few minutes, on her morning walk,” she said. “You could walk with her.”

That’s another thing about a small town: Everybody knows everybody’s schedule.

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