Janet Evanovich - Full Scoop

Lamar held the phone far from his ear. "Hold on a minute, young man. Don't get yourself into such a snit. I'll ask my dispatcher if she knows anything about it. Delores knows everything about everything. If you don't believe it, just ask her."

Lamar punched the hold button and dialed dispatch. "Delores, can you come back here a minute?" He put the phone down and scratched his head. He searched through his old phone messages, his notepads, and his middle drawer. "I don't see anything about a parade," he mumbled to himself.

Delores opened the door. "Okay, Chief, I'm here. What did you want to tell me that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

"Um, do you know anything about some kind of Elvis parade we're supposed to be having?"

Delores let out a squeal of joy that rattled the glass on Lamar's desk. "I knew there would be a parade!"

Lamar's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"

"Of course there will be a parade! This Elvis convention is the biggest thing that ever happened to this town."

"Have you ever heard of anybody named Kenny Preston? Supposed to be some hotshot Elvis impersonator?"

"I'm sure I have," Delores said. "I'm sure it'll come to me."

Lamar was clearly perplexed. "I wonder how come Abby Bradley didn't mention this parade business when I stopped by for some of that new—" He paused and blushed. "That new chocolate ice cream everybody is raving about. Come to think of it, she didn't say anything to me."

"She has laryngitis."

"Oh." He nodded. "Okay, so the people in charge of putting together the parade are working on it?"

"Why wouldn't they be working on it? Of course they're working on it."

"All right, then. Do me a favor. I'll have someone cover dispatch for you. I want you to check and make sure everything is on schedule with the floats and whatnot. We'll need to put a few officers on it too," he added, "although I don't know where we'll get them. Everybody needs to be ready at twelve sharp."

"Twelve sharp, tomorrow?"

"Today."

Delores blinked several times. "I can do that, Chief. I know everybody on every committee."

"I'm sure you do, Delores. Oh, and talk to this Curtis fellow on line two, would you? You'll have to fill him in on the, um, particulars. Tell him I don't have time to fool with a parade on account of I'm looking for a murderer."

* * * * *

"I forgot the egg basket," Zack said to Maggie, standing just outside the kitchen door. "Would you hand it to me so I don't track goat, um, stuff on the floor."

She looked amused. "You stepped in goat poop?"

"Yeah."

"How's she doing in her new pen?"

"Staying busy. Once I fed her I went for the hose to fill her water bowl and discovered she had eaten most of it. We should probably start a list of replacement items."

The words had barely left his mouth before Maggie's expression changed to horror. Zack went for his gun before her scream left her lips. He shoved her inside and spun around, eyes assessing the situation.

"Oh, gross!" Mel said loudly.

Zack glanced over his shoulder. Maggie darted across the room and didn't stop until she'd reached the door leading into the hallway. Her eyes were bright with fear. Zack noted the grimace on Mel's face. He followed her gaze. A homely-looking cat held a dead mouse between his teeth.

Zack sighed and tucked his gun away. "Damn!" he said to Mel. "That's the nastiest-looking thing I've ever seen. That's not your cat, is it?"

Mel shot him a "you're so dumb" look.

"I'm sorry I screamed," Maggie said. "That stupid cat is always bringing me dead mice because he knows it freaks me out. Please get it out of here. I'll be in my bedroom."

"This is getting old," Zack said. "I have to guard the fort, feed the farm animals, bury the mice. Now, how do I do this?" He grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and shook him slightly. "Let it go, boy."

"His name is Okra," Mel said.

The cat dropped the mouse and ran.

"Would you hand me some of that newspaper from the trash can?" Zack asked her.

Mel brought several sheets and handed them to him. "I guess you can tell my mother is terrified of mice," she said. "Sometimes she has nightmares."

Zack did not look at all surprised.

* * * * *

Savannah's Best Costumes & Designs was tucked between Bernie's Subs and McCracken's Bookstore. The man who unlocked the door bearing the closed on Sunday sign was tall, black, and bald and wore a gold loop in his left ear. He held out his palm and Carl Lee slapped a hundred-dollar bill in it. "Welcome to Savannah's Best Costumes," the man said. "We're always willing to open our doors on Sundays to our special friends." He tucked the money in his shirt pocket.

"Do you have what I need?" Carl Lee asked.

The black man led him to a counter where several plastic bags hung from a rack. "You're lucky I still have Elvis costumes left with the convention in Beaumont. Everybody wants to be the King."

"You have the right sizes?"

"The slacks are going to be an inch too long on two of them; same with the sleeves. But it's as close as I can get. Inside each hanging bag, you'll find what you need: a wig, fake sideburns, and gaudy-looking chains. You know, Elvis crap." He shoved a form across the counter. "You'll need to fill this out and show me some identification."

"I'm in a hurry," Carl Lee said.

"Yeah? Well, then, moving right along. How long will you need the costumes?"

"A day or two."

"It'll cost you sixteen hundred, including the deposit."

Carl Lee's gaze turned hard. "Are you messing with me, pal?"

"I got some money in those suits, man, and you don't want to give me an address or ID? I definitely need a sizeble deposit."

Carl Lee stood quietly for several minutes, his gaze unwavering, muscles in his jaw flexing. Finally, he leaned on the counter. The other man's smile faltered. "Here's the way we're going to do it," Carl Lee said. "I'm going to put five hundred dollars on this counter, and then I'm going to walk out that door with the costumes, and you're going to be happy with it."

The other man looked into Carl Lee's eyes and took a step back. "Okay, man, I'm good," he said quickly. "I don't need any trouble. I got my own stuff going on around here, know what I mean? I can't make a living renting stupid Elvis costumes."

Cook watched Carl Lee exit the costume shop with the plastic bags and head toward the car. "Like I said, Ed, it's just a little side trip, and it's for a good cause. It'll be fun. Then we'll head north to Canada as planned."

"What if somebody recognizes me?" Ed said.

Cook laughed. "They'll say, 'Hey, look, it's Elvis!' "

Ed smiled.

* * * * *

Zack opened the back door and stepped aside for Jamie to enter, giving her a friendly smile. "Maggie said you were coming by. Where is Romeo-the-hound?"

"He headed straight for the backyard. I'm pretty sure he's going to ask Butterbean for her hoof in marriage, although I think they're rushing things."

Zack draped his arm around her shoulders and began walking her down the hall. "Jamie, you can't measure love according to time. When it's right, it's right. A couple just knows. I think that may be the case with Fleas and Butterbean."

Jamie studied him. "Are you speaking from experience?"

Zack gave her a funny look as he tapped on Maggie's bedroom door. "Jamie is here," he called out.

"Send her in, Jeeves," Maggie said.

Zack pulled his arm from Jamie's shoulder and winked. "The mistress of the house and I are on a first-name basis." He opened the door, stepped aside so she could enter, and closed the door behind her.

Maggie was staring at her checkbook and wearing a perplexed frown. She held up one finger. "Give me a second, I'm almost done."

"You're getting pretty friendly with your staff," Jamie said. "Have you seen him naked yet?"