Poison and takes a turn around the room that makes Gypsy Rose Lee look like Mary Poppins. She stops in front of Bradford, strips off one of her long black gloves, and playfully pops him on the leg.
“This is an outrage.” Janice lunges out of her seat, and I’ll swear if Bradford hadn’t restrained his wife, she might have clawed six inches of pancake makeup off Bubbles’ face.
“Janice, what are we going to do?” Mellie asks.
“Break the will, you fool.”
As Bubbles settles back beside me, the image of Dr. Laton flickers, then becomes clear again. “Did I say being of sound mind? If not, put it in your pipe and smoke it. There’s not a lawyer in the U.S. who can prove me mentally incompetent. Kevin, you’re the only member of my family who didn’t act like I was some kind of horse’s ass. I know you’ll probably squander it, but I’m leaving you a million dollars.”
Kevin surprises me by taking the news without revealing a single emotion.
“The rest of my estate is to be equally divided between Peaceful Pines and whatever charities Grover Grimsley sees fit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the devil.”
As Dr. Laton vanishes from the screen, the Warner Brothers’ Looney Tunes cartoon logo comes up. For a while the only sound we hear is the raucous laughter of Woody Woodpecker.
Then the room explodes.
“This will take two gallons of Prohibition punch.” Lovie hustles toward the kitchen with Kevin in her wake.
While Uncle Charlie and Grover Grimsley form a flank between the Laton women and the outrageous beneficiary and I desperately search for ways to affect a truce, Bubbles Malone vanishes.
Elvis’ Opinion # 2 on Las Vegas, French Poodles, and Taking Care of Business
Iguess you’re wondering how I could walk out on Callie since she’s one of the truest hearts I know and I live by the creed don’t be cruel. I could tell you I took advantage of the wide-open back door in the hopes my human mom and dad would get back together, but the truth is, every now and then a dog has to take care of business.
I’d planned on sniffing Ruby Nell’s tombstones, maybe marking a few, then ambling over to Gas, Grits, and Guts to see if anybody had left a half-empty box of fish bait. After that I was going back to the beauty shop before Callie missed me. But I got sidetracked by Bubbles Malone. I could smell big city all over her even before I sneaked in as she went inside to ask for directions to Eternal Rest. Fayrene quizzed her within an inch of her size 36-D push-up bra.
Don’t ask how I know the size. Just trust me. And every bit of it was real.
When Bubbles mentioned she used to perform at Caesar’s Palace, I sidled up hoping she’d recognize me and ask for my paw print. But she didn’t. I should have known a woman too vain to put on the reading glasses I saw when she dropped that little bitty purse would miss her golden opportunity.
Now, I knew if she went strutting into Eternal Rest showing off those knockers, the Valentines would be all shook-up. I fully intended to mosey on back to the beauty parlor and warn Callie.
But fate intervened. The prettiest little French poodle this side of Hollywood and Vine sashayed by exuding pheromones you could smell all the way to the Alabama state line. Well, bless’a my soul!
I seized the first opportunity to dash out the door. Then I sucked in my paunch and marched right up to her.
“I’m Elvis,” I drawled, “and I can fly you to moon.”
A basset hound or even a Jack Russell terrier would have known I stole that line from another singer, but a French poodle in heat will believe anything you tell her.
She blinked her big brown eyes at me and I was a goner. We trotted off to find some privacy and lost all track of time.
Now I’m lying here behind the Mooreville Truck Stop with Ann Margret curled up beside me snoozing. Turns out she had the same opinion of me as John Lennon. “Before Elvis there was nothing.” I feel the urge to kick up my heels and howl at the full moon.
But in spite of all the stories you’ve heard to the contrary, I’m smarter than that. Instead of giving away our love nest, I amble over to the back door of the kitchen and find some good scraps of country-fried steak, black-eyed peas and corn bread.
It’s not the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches I was so fond of before I fell from Graceland, but it’s still good Southern home cooking.
Well, back to my foxy little poodle. TCB, baby!
Elvis’ Recipe for Fried Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches
First, watch Callie toast two pieces of white bread. I know whole wheat’s better for you, but a dog sweating under an August sun hotter than stage lights needs all the carbohydrates and sugar he can get.
Sit there and drool while she melts about half a stick of butter (the real kind, not that cheap imitation stuff) in the bottom of a skillet. Next, howl “How Great Thou Art” while she spreads smooth peanut butter on one side of the toast, puts a bunch of sliced bananas in the middle, and fries the sandwich, turning it till it’s golden brown on both sides.
Dig a nice cool hole under the oak tree and bury the sandwich until you can sneak off, dig it up, and enjoy it without being bothered by Callie’s silly stray cats and that dumb cocker spaniel she found in the Dumpster behind the video store.
Chapter 3
Feuds, Hot Fudge, and Moveable Corpses
The funeral home is a war zone. Mellie’s not speaking to Janice, Janice is not speaking to Bradford, the teenagers are not speaking to anybody but their newly rich uncle, Kevin’s not speaking to Lovie (who turned down a proposal while she was backed up against the refrigerator in Eternal Rest), and nobody in the Laton family is speaking to Uncle Charlie.
All he said was, “You probably want to see your daddy before you leave the funeral home.”
“You can hang his sorry carcass out for the birds,” Janice said, then drove her Avis rental car off and left Bradford and the boys to hitchhike back to Mooreville.
I was getting ready to offer a ride, but thank goodness Mellie said she’d drive them back.
Frankly, I’m tired of the Latons. All I want to do is find Elvis and a quiet place to curl up and repent my latest transgression with my ex. I always do this, say I’m not going to feel the least bit guilty, then have second thoughts and figure a woman headed to battle in the divorce court ought to know better than to sleep with the enemy.
After the warring camps leave, I grab my purse. “Uncle Charlie, is there anything I can do before I go?”
“No, dear heart. I’m going by Grover’s office to discuss the progress he’s made on finding Bevvie Laton. Then I’m driving out to the farm to fix Ruby Nell’s front porch glider.”
Mama will be sorry she missed him. It serves her right for gambling away my money.
Uncle Charlie locks up and we walk into the full blast
