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together about?” I asked.
    “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe
they’re trying to get their alibis together.”
    “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
    “Why who wouldn’t?” Miss Vivee said. “It’s
a real crime scene around here. They roped off everything with that yellow
tape, stuffed things into small plastic bags and took a boatload of pictures.
Most excitement I’ve seen in forty years or more.”
    The Sheriff came back in and Renmar pushed
Oliver toward the back of the house. He hurried off, furtively glancing back
over his shoulder. Renmar tried to control her sniffles. Patting her hair and
licking her lips, it was quite noticeable that Renmar was trying to remain
calm.
    “I hate to tell you, Renmar,” the Sheriff
was back, “but we’re going to have to take that bowl of bouillabaisse that
Gemma was eating when she . . .  Well, you know.”
    “When she croaked,” Miss Vivee said in a
voice, it seemed, as loud as her little frame could muster.
    “Yes. Well,” the Sheriff said somewhat
flustered.
    “Kicked the bucket,” Miss Vivee offered.
    “Mother,” Renmar said.
    “Hah,” Miss Vivee said. “I could do this
all night. I’ve got a million of them.” She yelled out, “Bite the dust. That’s
another one,” she said laughing and elbowed me.
    “Anyway,” the Sheriff raised his voice.
“I’m going to need the whole pot as well.”
    “It’s all gone,” Renmar said. And as soon
as it came out of her mouth, Miss Vivee hit me on my thigh. I looked at her.
    “That’s a lie,” she said out of the side
of her mouth. “It’s a whole eighteen-quart stockpot full of it on the stove.”
    “All gone?” The Sheriff hadn’t heard Miss
Vivee but it seemed like he didn’t believe Renmar either. “Mind if I take a
look?”
    “Help yourself,” Renmar said and swept her
arm in the direction of the kitchen. “I gave the last bowl to Gemma.” She set
her lips firmly and locked eyes with the Sheriff.
    He held her gaze momentarily and then
headed off to the kitchen without saying a word. Renmar followed behind him.
    “They’ll do an autopsy no doubt,” Miss
Vivee said looking out into the distance. “But if they think that Renmar’s fish
stew done Gemma Burke in they’ll soon learn that they’re barking up the wrong
tree. I told the Sheriff that, too. He just smiled and nodded his head.
Patronizing son-of-a-gun. The facts will prove me right. Wait and see.”
    Miss Vivee got quiet and then took in a
breath and shook her head. “Her hair was a mess,” she said, her voice a husky
whisper. “Poor Gemma Burke. When they pulled her face up out the bowl it was
just a mess. All wet around the edges from falling into the fish stew.” She
crunched up her nose. “When I go,” she said with a nod of her head, her voice
back to normal. “I plan on looking like I was just getting ready to sit for my
sweet sixteen portrait. Rosy cheeks and all. Even if I have to apply a little
rouge. And not a hair out of place. I’ll make sure of that.”
    “Oh really?”
    “Yes really,” she said as if it were a
fact. “I’m sure God’ll give me the strength to make myself presentable when
it’s time for us to meet.” Miss Vivee smiled and patted me on my knee.
    I looked up to see Deputy Colin Pritchard
standing over me. He smelled all woody and fresh and I took in a big whiff. He was
tall and he looked so buff and officious in his tan uniform. But his eyes and
awkward smile made him look vulnerable, too. Especially with his hand wrapped
in a bandage. I just wanted to kiss his “booboo” and make it feel better.
    I wouldn’t mind kissing those lips either.
    “Yes,” I said, my eyes meeting his. “You
need me?”
    “May I speak with you,” he said. “I need
to talk to you about where you were this morning.”
    “Sure,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
    “Looks like you’re a suspect, too,” Miss Vivee
said with a mischievous wink.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
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