Free The Turtle Mound Murder by Mary Clay Page B

hated to schlep through snow so early in the
season. I come here a lot, so figured this was the perfect time for
a visit.”
    Ruthie appeared with a waiter in tow. “Our
table’s ready,” she said.
    Relieved, I took my wine and stood. “It’s
been nice talking with you. I hope you have a good visit,” I said.
As Ruthie and I threaded our way to the table, it hit me. Al was
the guy next door, the one the police had interviewed that
morning!
    Our table was at the back of the deck,
several stations away from Penny Sue and Lyndon, who seemed to be
hitting it off fabulously. Every time I glanced that way, Penny
Sue’s hands were waving theatrically. I always said she couldn’t
talk if her hands were tied behind her back. We actually tried it
once in college. She only managed two sentences before stopping
cold. I thought she’d bust from frustration before we got her hands
untied, and it was something I teased her about when she got
particularly excited.
    We’d finished dinner and our pie had just
arrived when Penny Sue brought Lyndon over to the table. He was
terrific looking up close. Lyndon had a perfect body, perfect
teeth, perfect clothes, and the polished, understated assurance of
the super wealthy. Penny Sue was in hog heaven. She introduced us;
we made polite small talk; then he excused himself to place an
overseas phone call.
    Penny Sue ogled his back as he walked down
the pier to his yacht. When he disappeared inside, she reached over
and snatched my drink. “Mmmm-hmm, that is one fine specimen of
manhood.” She finished off the last few sips of the wine and
grabbed Ruthie’s, downing it as well.
    “How much have you had to drink?” I
asked.
    She tossed her head. “You can drive.”
    “Did you ever eat dinner?” Ruthie
questioned.
    “I’ll make a sandwich when we get home.”
Penny Sue snatched the spoon from Ruthie’s coffee cup and helped
herself to my coconut cream pie. I pushed the plate in front of
her, obviously she needed it more than I did.
    “Well?”
    “Well, what?” Penny Sue said, mouth full of
whipped cream.
    Talking with her mouth full! That was
completely out of character. Penny Sue must really be smashed.
“What’s the story on Lyndon?”
    Pie demolished, she licked her finger and
sat back. “He’s in town to check on an investment. Condos or
something. Will be here for at least a few days, maybe a week. He’s
coming to the party.”
    “And ...” Ruthie prodded.
    “Charlotte’s going to come over to clean and
help with the party.”
    Ruthie leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Come on, Penny Sue, you know what I mean. Is he married? What does
he do for a living? Are you going to see him before Saturday?”
    Penny Sue flashed a goofy grin. “Divorced,
don’t know, lunch tomorrow.”
    “Did you tell him y’all were destined to
marry?” I asked.
    She tittered. “I’m saving that tidbit for
another time. But, we’re definitely in sync. Lyndon said he felt
like he’d known me all his life.”
    “How much had he had to drink?” I gibed.
    Penny Sue folded her arms and pursed her
lips peevishly. “You’re just jealous.”
    “I’m kidding. Though, it’s an amazing turn
of events. I get inducted into the DAFFODILS, and the president
resigns a few days later.”
    “Who said anything about me resigning?”
    “Well, if you get married ...”
    “That doesn’t make any difference. I’m still
divorced and free of licentious scum.” She chopped the air with her
hand and knocked over the wine glass. Fortunately, it was empty.
“DAFFODILS are allowed to remarry, as long as it’s Prince Charming.
Royalty’s a whole ‘nother matter.”
    Ruthie and I each took one of Penny Sue’s
arms. “I’m glad you clarified that, Cinderella. It’s almost
midnight, we need to get you home before your carriage turns into a
pumpkin.”
    “Pumpkin—” She followed us out without
protest. “—wouldn’t a pumpkin pie taste good?” I unlocked the car
and helped her into the