Murder Gets a Life:: A Southern Sisters Mystery (Southern Sisters Mysteries) - Hardcover

George, Anne

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9780380975587: Murder Gets a Life:: A Southern Sisters Mystery (Southern Sisters Mysteries)

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0380975580 ISBN 13: 9780380975587

Publisher: William Morrow, 1998

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Patricia Anne can't imagine why Mary Alice is in such an uproar over her son Ray's new bride. Sunshine Dabbs is Ucute as can be," even if she is a bit unconventional, which should hardly come as a shock to Mary Alicc given that she's the one who raised her boy. But with all her motherly instincts, Mary Alice is sure that this sweet little blonde Barbie doll--who met her son in Bora Bora after she won the trip on Wheel of Fortune--thinks she's found herself a fortune in Ray's hefty wallet.

The sisters can't wait to get a look at Sunshine's family, and quite a look it turns out to be. As soon as Meemaw Turkett invites Mary Alice and Patricia Anne into her cozy trailer on the family compound they stumble over a corpse, and Meemaw's best hog butchering knife is stuck in its chest. Meemaw, a Cabbage Patch look-alike and Sunshine's grandmother, guardian, and the family matriarch is shocked to pieces and immediately summons the family to her trailer. Pawpaw, a lovable bearded grump has his own trailer, and their grown kids each enjoy a private home-away-from-home on the five-trailer compound.

The discovery of the mysterious body brings in Mary Alice's nemesis, good ol' boy Sheriff Reuse, who, she knows from her experience at the Skoot 'n' Boot, is nothing but trouble. Within minutes, the compound is strewn with a weird collection of friends, neighbors and relatives. There's Meemaw's spooky channeler, ready to give guidance as needed; Sunshine's jilted boyfriend skulking around; a bunch of dogs ready to attack...and Kerrigan, Sunshine's mostly absentee mama, who stars in the kind of video flicks that might even shock Mary Alice.

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About the Author:

Anne George (c.____ - 2001) was the Agatha Award-winning author of the Southern Sisters mystery series which culminate in Murder Boogies with Elvis, publishing in August 2001. Like Patricia Anne, she was a happily married former school teacher living in Birmingham, Alabama. Ms. George was also a former Alabama State Poet and a regular contributor to literary publications. During her lifetime she was nominated for several awards, including the Pulitzer. Being a true lady of the Old South, her date of birth will forever be a mystery.

Mary Alice and I grinned at each other. We each have three children, all in their thirties now (Dear God! Sister's Marilyn and Freddie, our oldest, would soon be forty!), but with the exception of my middle child, Alan, who has two teenaged boys, none of the others has been in a hurry to produce grandchildren for us to spoil.

"Is Sunshine's family going to be there tomorrow night?" I asked.

"Not her mother. She's out of town. Meemaw will, though."

"Meemaw?"

"That's what she called her. Her grandmother."

"I'm assuming Meemaw has a name."

Mary Alice frowned. "And I don't know what it is. It was 'Meemaw this' and 'Meemaw that' and I forgot to ask. How do you think I can find out? I hate to introduce her as Meemaw Dabbs. You know? God, I can't believe Ray has done this."

"It wouldn't be Meemaw Dabbs, anyway. Not if she's Sunshine's mother's mother."

Mary Alice stirred her tea with her finger. "True."

From outside, I could hear my old Woofer dog barking. It was too hot for him to be getting excited about anything; I needed to go put some ice in his water bowl. But just at that moment, a cloud crossed the sun. A precursor of the usual late afternoon August thunderstorms. I watched Sister stir her tea; my shoulders ached and I was suddenly very sleepy.

"Hey!" she said.

I jumped a mile.

"Locust Fork's in Blount County, isn't it?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Reckon how many people live there?"

"Not many, I wouldn't think."

"I'll bet I know someone who knows Meemaw's name."

"Who?"

"Sheriff Reuse. I'll bet that martinet knows everybody's dog's name and if they've had their rabies shots."

"Call him," I said. "He'll be thrilled to hear from you." My sister and Sheriff Reuse had met the year before when she had gotten a wild hair and bought a country-western bar renamed the Skoot 'n' Boot. Nothing but trouble. Suffice it to say she and Sheriff Reuse were not soul mates.

"You're being sarcastic, but I bet he'll be happy to hear from me. That man leads a boring life, Patricia Anne."

"Hmmm." What could I say?

"Where's your phone book?"

I located it under the newspaper that was spread on the kitchen counter and followed her into the den. This I wanted to hear.

I got the one-sided version, of course, but it went some thing like this:

Mary Alice (butter-melting voice): "Sheriff Reuse? How are you? It's so nice to hear your voice! This is Mary Alice Crane." (Pause. Voice still sweet.) No everything's fine. No, I haven't invested in any more property up there. I know, though I really don't feel responsible for what happened."

(Long pause. Voice not as sweet.) "What I need to know is if you know a family in Locust Fork by the name of Dabbs." (Pause.) "No, I am not buying their property, I assure you." (Nod.) "Sunshine Dabbs is the child's name. Well, it's Sunshine Crane now. She and my son Ray just got married in Bora Bora." (Pause.) "Bora Bora in the South Pacific." (Another nod.) "Yes. And what I need to know is the grandmother's name. All I know is 'Meemaw' and I'm having a dinner party tomorrow night and it would be embarrassing to have to introduce my new daughter-in-law's grandmother and not know her name." (Pause.) "Yes, my son married Sunshine Dabbs. The dinner is tomorrow night. Of course Meemaw is invited." (Disgusted look at me. Holds the phone away from her ear.) "He's laughing."

"Sheriff Reuse doesn't laugh."

"Well, he's putting on a damn good imitation." She handed the phone to me. The sheriff was either laughing, crying, or choking to death.

"Sheriff Reuse?" I asked. "This is Patricia Anne Hollowell. Is something wrong?"

"Turkett," he gasped finally.

"What?"

"Turkett. Her name is Turkett."

"Like little turkey? Turkett?"

"There is a God." The gargling sounds started again and the line went dead.

Mary Alice and I looked at each other.

"What on God's earth do you suppose that was about?" she asked.

"I have no idea. He said there was a God and hung up. Oh, and he said her name was Turkett."

"What Turkett?"

"I don't know. He was laughing too hard." I held out the phone. "You want to call him back?"

"Turkett?"

"Like little turkey. And then he said there was a God and hung up."

"Meemaw Turkett?"

"Maybe Sunshine will say her name."

Mary Alice put the phone back on the end table. "Shouldn't have called that fool anyway."

"True." I meant it.

She got up. "Y'all come about seven. Okay?"

"I'm looking forward to it," I said truthfully.

Sister started out the back door. "What are y'all having for supper tonight?"

"Lean Cuisines if Fred doesn't stop by Morrison's Cafeteria."

"The paint smells too loud in here to eat anyway."

"We'll probably take it to the bedroom. Eat in bed."

"You wish."

I was shutting the door when she turned around. "Turkett? You're sure?"

I nodded.

"Reckon why he was laughing so? There's nothing wrong with that name. Not Smith or Jones, but it's a fine name."

I shrugged. Sheriff Reuse's laugh had been disconcerting to say the least.

From the west came the first rumble of thunder. I waved at Mary Alice and shut the door. Meemaw Turkett? I grabbed the paintbrush and climbed back on the counter. Lord!

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