Anne George - Murder Boogies with Elvis

I was lying on my stomach under the kitchen sink,

Looks funny up on the mountain without Vulcan, Fred said,

The Alabama Theater is one of the great old movie

Oh, happy day! Weve made our plane reservations. The three

The man looked to be in his late thirties. He

Impregnate Marilyn?

The sound of Fred taking a shower woke me up

While I was out walking Woofer, Marilyn called and left

Marilyn was asleep when we got home, or at least

Fortunately I was sitting in one of the wicker chairs

Fred woke me up when he came in around five-thirty.

It took Debbie more than an hour to get me

Larry Ludmiller didnt come home last night, Yul Brynner announced

Oh, Lord. Dusk moaned, leaning over Larry. Somebody call nine-one-one.

When I got in my kitchen, I sat down at

Supper was a quiet affair. Before Fred came in, I

Guess what! Joannas moving. Ive been feeling some flutters for

Two things happened the next morning. Larry Ludmiller regained consciousness

The side door of the Alabama Theater was unlocked. The

May fourteenth was a perfect day, weather-wise. A late cold

I was lying on my stomach under the kitchen sink, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich and listening to Vivaldis Spring when icy cold hands grasped my ankles. I screamed, reared up, and banged my head on the drainpipe so hard that zigzag lights streaked across my vision. The next thing I was aware of was being dragged from under the sink and hearing a very familiar voice saying, What on Gods earth is wrong with you?

My chin hit the kitchen floor with a clunk and the zigzag lights streaked again; pain from both blows met in the top of my head.

Are you okay?

Maybe, I thought, if I just lay there she would go awayshe being my sister, the boss of the world. The pain would lessen, Vivaldi would move on to Summer and then to Winter. Eventually I would get up, get some ice for the knot that was swelling like a balloon on the back of my head. If I were lucky, the brain damage would be minimal.

You werent trying to commit suicide, were you, like that poet woman? Tell me you werent trying to commit suicide, Mouse. That would be a terrible thing to do to me.

What? I struggled to a sitting position and looked up at Mary Alice. Way up. Shes six feet tall (she says five-twelve) and admits to two hundred fifty pounds.

Well, I know I havent been around as much lately since Ive been seeing so much of Virgil, but I didnt think you were that depressed.

What the hell are you talking about? I touched the back of my head tentatively. I may have a concussion, but Im not suicidal.

Well, what were you doing under the sink?

Putting down some of those tile squares. A couple of them werent sticking good, so I was putting weight on them. Lying on them for a few minutes. I looked down and saw my peanut butter and banana sandwich squished on my T-shirt. Actually I was eating my lunch. And the poet youre thinking of is Sylvia Plath. And it was a gas stove she stuck her head in, not a sink. I held up a hand. Help me up.

Sister grabbed me with the cold hands that had started the trouble and pulled me up.

How come your hands are so cold? I asked, walking slowly to the kitchen table and easing into a chair. I quickly learned that if I didnt move my head suddenly, the pain was a simple throb. You scared me half to death.

I was getting ice for a Coke when I looked over and saw half of you sticking out from under the sink.

Well, would you get me a couple of pieces now? Just wrap them in a paper towel.

She opened the refrigerator. You want some Coke and some aspirin, too?

I forgot and nodded my head. Pain rattled around in there.

I may really be hurt, I said. I closed one eye and then the other. Was the left eye a little blurry?

Of course youre not. Its just a bump.

Sister handed me the Coke, aspirin, and a paper towel with ice in it. I swallowed the aspirin and tried the eye test again. I looked through the bay window at Woofers igloo doghouse. Right eye first. Okay. Left eye. A couple of floaters.

I have floaters in my left eye, I said. I think Ive jarred my retina.

Sister sat down across from me. Doesnt mean a thing. Youre fine. I have floaters all the time. One looks like one of those little white mealy worms Grandpapa used to fish with. Caught all the crappie with. Comes and goes.

You have a mealy worm floater?

Sometimes. Comes and goes.

I held the paper towel with the ice in it against the back of my head and looked at Mary Alice for the first time since she had come in. Really looked at her. The view from the floor didnt count.

You look very spiffy today, I said. She did. She was wearing a pink pantsuit and her hair was a darker blond than usual. Her bangs were pulled to one side and her skin glowed.

Thanks. Ive been to Delta Hairlines, and there was a lady there giving free makeovers advertising some new cosmetics for seniors. I told her I was only sixty-four, but she gave me one anyway.

Sixty-four, huh?

Sister didnt answer that. The truth is that shes sixty-six, but on her last birthday she decided to start counting backward. Im five years younger than she is, or at least I was. In a couple of years Ill be older than she is and soon she wont qualify for senior-citizen makeovers.

I bought some of it and would have gotten you some but our skin tones are completely different.

She was telling the truth about this. Everything about us is different. She has olive skin and brown eyes, and I have fair skin and hazel eyes. I used to have strawberry-blond hair, and Sister was a brunette. Now Im gray and shes usually strawberry-blond. Add to that the fact that Im a size six petiteand Lord knows what Sister isand is there any wonder that when we were children and she told me I was adopted, I believed her? So did everybody else. Im just grateful that we were born at home so there was no chance that we had been mixed up at the hospital.

I closed my right eye again. One of the floaters in the left did look a little like a mealworm. I looked from one side to the other.

Are you doing that or are you having some kind of spell? Mary Alice wanted to know.

Im doing it.

Good, because I came by to tell you the news. Virgil and I have set the date.

For what?

For our wedding, Patricia Anne. Dont be dense.

Dense? I didnt even know you were engaged. What happened to Cedric?

Who?

The man you were engaged to last I heard.

Oh, I think thats over with. She took a sip of Coke and looked thoughtful. I mean, hes in England and all. Ill let him know, though.

That would be thoughtful. You could invite him to the wedding.

Well, our engagement never was very serious.

Sarcasm is totally lost on this woman.

Anyway, she continued, the wedding is going to be the fourteenth of May. Virgils retiring the first of April, and were going to buy an RV and go all over the West for our honeymoon. Doesnt that sound like fun?

Virgil Stuckey, who might or might not soon be my brother-in-law, is the sheriff of St. Clair County. He is a very nice man, sixty-five years old, and larger than Mary Alice. The RV had better be a big one.

It was Virgils idea. Will Alec took me to New York for my first honeymoon and then Philip took me to Paris and Roger to St. Croix. Virgil said this would be something different.