Episode #4: A Batch of Cookies

It hadn’t been a very good day for Vonda Kay. She’d sold a farm to her sister’s ex-husband and forgot to tell her. Her nephew, whom she’d raised as a son, was in jail for running her neighbor’s daughter over with a columbine and she needed groceries. It was a good thing she had some International Coffees and Valium left.

People had been trampsing in and out of her house all afternoon long. She could probably have handled that, but they’d been out in the field where they found the body in the hay bails so her clean carpet was now covered in mud, blood, straw and cow poop. She thought to write “Resolve” down on her grocery list.

Her twin sister, Vista, the one whose ex-husband was coming back to town, was laying down on one of her own twin’s bed. Vonda thought a moment. She just assumed Mac Moretz was her sister’s ex. She didn’t really know if they’d actually gotten a divorce or not. She did know for sure that Mac told Vista he didn’t want kids and took off the moment her water broke.

Other than the checks that came like clockwork, no one had heard from him since. Vonda could have just died when he called her out of the blue and offered her market value of the old Quisenberry place. She’d been trying to unload that monstrosity for two years. It wasn’t like she could say no. Not with the market the way it was. Well, she could have but she wasn’t stupid.

Vonda peeped out her kitchen curtains, the ones with the gold thread and the dancing chickens she’d special ordered. Those men with the rubber gloves and plastic bags were all still out there. She hoped they didn’t expect her to feed them. She’d already cooked everything in the house and sent it over to the neighbors. She certainly wasn’t going to run to Food Country to fix them dinner, even if it was triple coupon day.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t help but notice what a fine looking man that was giving all the other little men orders. Trey came running in, after he and Brod came back from the neighbors delivering the food, and said the barnyard and hay field looked just like an episode of “CSI” only redneck. It would be exciting if it weren’t for the fact that it was her nephew they were gathering evidence against, and that they didn’t seem to know how to wipe their feet.

Vonda’s mother appeared behind her and looked over her shoulder into the yard. “That man has the finest butt I’ve seed in a long time!”

“Mama!” Shocked, Vonda dropped the curtain and turned around the face her mother.

“What? Just cause I don’t use m’girl parts no more, don’t mean I don’t remember what made um work.” she said.

“You just scared me that’s all.” She reached for the Febreeze and started squirting the air. “With all the detective work goin’ on, you shouldn’t be sneakin’ up on a body.”

“You don’t fool me, Vonda Kay. You was a starin’ at that man, too.”

“I am a married woman, Mama, a happily married woman.”

“Honey, don’t make a difference where ya git ya appetite as long as ya eat at home.”

“Is Vista still laying down?” She changed the subject.

“You’d think after almos' eighteen years that man wouldn’t have such a hold on her.”

“Mama, he’s the father of her baby boy and then he just took off. Left her ta raise Brod all by her lonesome.Then suddenly he’s back in town. I hope Mac don’t think he can just pick right back up where he left off.” She put the Febreeze back on the windowsill where it belonged. “You don’t think she’ll take back up with him do ya?”

“Hard ta tell, Vonda Kay. I don’t reckon she ever got over ‘im. She ain't even looked at another man twice.”

“She dated that Vernell Hawthorne for a while.” Vonda reminded her mother.

“Honey, they went to plays together. That twernt no date. It was a girl’s night out.”

“Shame on you. Just because a man knows how to dress and likes the thee-ay-ter don’t mean he’s…you know.”

“Honey chil’, Vernell lives with the football coach and dresses up like Britney Spears ats a bar in Knoxville ever other Saturday. Follow that recipe and tell me it don’t make a batch a cookies!”

“Fine, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Didn’t say they was.” The old woman leaned in close. “They’s one a them places in Johnson City ya know. Me an’ Dreama Holmes went in one time. Jus' ta see what it was like.”

“Mamma! You didn’t.”

“Sure did. Let me tell you, them queens know how to make a ol’ lady feel like a queen. Had s’much fun I’d go back agin, but Dreama won’t take me an’ I don’ like to drive after dark n’more.”

“Why won’t she take ya?”

“Aw, some little black boy thought she was one a them transgenders and she got mad. I tried to explain she was jus' ugly but Dreama refused ta prove it.” She pointed to two loaves of bread on the counter. “What’s this?”

“My apple bread.” Vonda shook her head. “Brod said the neighbors didn’t want it. Claim the last time they ate it it give ‘em diarrhea.”

“Knock! Knock!” Vonda and her mother turned to see Arzella Tater waltzing right into the kitchen uninvited. “My, my, Vonda Kay Shephard, all this fuss!”

“Arzella!” Maw smiled broadly. “Want some fresh baked apple bread?”

“Oh, no thank you, dear. I just dropped by to see if there was anything I could do for ya.”

Vonda smiled even broader. “You kin scrub the cow poop off m’ carpet.”

“I haven’t got that much time, dear.” Arzella whisked a finger across the kitchen counter, looked at the pad and scrunched up her nose. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry we all are.”

“Well, thank you, Miz Tater. I appreciate it.” Vonda smiled and was torn between reaching for a clean sponge and the baseball bat she kept under the sink.

Arzella prissed to the screen door and looked out at the man signing some papers on a clipboard in the driveway. “I just wanted to assure you that none of this is yer fault. Some people are jus’ born to be cold blooded serial killers and others ain’t.”

“Arzella Tater, Ronnie ain’t no serial killer!” Maw bellowed.

“Ruby Acres get yer head outta the milk bucket. Ronnie done kilt twice. You gotta admit there’s just a little bit of a personality flaw there.” Arzella lifted her nose,both faces and all three chins in the air.

“Did I march over ta yer house after Homecomin', an’ say I was sorry about yer girl’s personality flaws?” Maw took a mean step toward Arzella.

Arzella’s nostril’s flared and her back arched. “The football team was helpin’ Marcella write a paper on the proper placement of protective cups!”

“I bet!”

Arzella took a step toward Maw, her fists balled at her sides. “An’ I bet nobody liked that first guy Ronnie kilt!”

Maw smiled. “Marcella did. He had a real big protective cup!”

Vonda Kay stepped in the middle. “Ladies! The only way I know ta stop two cats a fightin’ is ta turn the hose on ‘em. As much as I’d like m’ carpets cleaned I suggest ya both back off.”

The women each took a step back. Vonda whipped her head to her mother. “Mamma go check on Vista.”

The old lady held her ground.

“Now!” Vonda bellowed. Maw dropped her head and headed down the hall. “Arzella, thank you for dropping by. I’ll be sure and send a thank you card.”

Arzella smoothed her skirt. “Always willin’ to be a shoulder ta those in need.”

“And please…” Vonda shoved the baked goods in her arms. “Take these to Ervel. I didn’t have any pie when he came by earlier, so I baked this apple bread just fer him.”

“Why that is so sweet.” The woman smiled as Vonda walked her to the door. “Wait, my Ervel was here?”

Vonda smiled as she shoved her on the porch and shut the screen door. “Why yes. Ervel pops by ever once an’ a while, just to say hello. Give him m’ love.” She leaned up against the door she quickly shut in the woman’s face.

She was still leaned against it counting to ten when there was another knock at the door. Vonda rolled her eyes and reached for the baseball bat.

“I’ll show Arzella Tater a serial killer.” She mumbled to herself swinging the bat to her shoulder and opening the door.

“Mrs. Shephard?” The good-looking man on the porch smiled.

“Uh…yes. May I help you?” She tried not to drool, happily married woman or not.

“I’m Detective Thatcher Tate, the state investigator assigned to your…nephew’s case.” He stepped aside and motioned to the goofy looking beanpole in uniform beside him. “You know Norvel Barton?”

“Yes, Norvel. How’s the wife and kids?” Vonda leaned nonchalantly against the door and thanked the Lord she was wearing a tight hoodie and then quickly for being a happily married woman.

“Oh Zelma’s in a mood. The kid’s is all got the bug an’ pukin all over the new linoleum we just put down in the bathroom. You should come over an’ see it sometime.” He sniffed and scratched his chin.

“I bet it’s nice.”

“Yeah, once there ain’t vomit on it, it’s real purdy.” He said.

“Mrs. Shephard…” the other man interrupted, “May we come in? I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course.” The door was probably making red marks on her back any way. “Why don’t we retire to the living room? I bet you could use a comfortable seat after spending all day on your feet.”

“That would be very nice.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Vonda took his arm and lead him inside. When the screen door slammed she yelled over her shoulder. “You, too, Norvel.”

Detective Tate sat in the center of the sofa, as Vonda nonchalantly seated herself on the footstool her Aunt Fay had made from an orange crate and old car seats in front of him. Norvel Barton stood in the archway, hat in hand, fresh buzz cut making his eyes bug out more.

“What can I do for you, Detective?”

“First of all, I need to make clear exactly why the state has become involved it what seemed to be a very tragic accident.”

“Of course.”

“The John Deere people just want to be sure, and make clear that their equipment wasn’t at fault, so the state stepped in.”

Vonda couldn’t wipe the dumbfounded look off her face. “John Deere?”

“Them tractor people?” Norvel himself was shocked.

“My assumption is that with the economy the way it is, they want to make sure that everything is done properly with no poor reflection on their product.”

“Wh’that’s jes stupid.” Norvel couldn’t help but say. "I’d think this whole thing would be good fer um.”

“Norvel, how on earth could having someone chopped up by one of their columbines be a good thing?” Vonda put her hands under her boobs and shoved them up just a bit before silently thanking the Lord she was a happily married woman.

“Why that thang chopped that woman up jes as purdy as you please, and them bails was still all square and tight. Ever one of 'em jest the purdiest bails you ever seed even with fingers an' toes 'n' chucks a hair stickin' out.” He explained.

Vonda turned back to the Detective. “I truly understand now why it was takin’ so long to get this accident all cleared up.”

“Do not misunderstand.” Thatcher Tate shifted forward. “This has nothing to do with publicity, Mrs. Shephard. The company requested the state look into the case, because of what seemed to them to be miscalculations in the original investigation.”

“I don’t understand.” Vonda said, suddenly not sure the detective was so sexy after all. “What do you mean miscalculations?”

“That’s what I need to ask you about…” Tate tried to make sure Vonda understood. “…just to confirm our suspicions.”

“This was an accident.” Vonda pouted. “Ronnie said he didn’t realize that Myrtle was even in the field. You shoulda saw the look on his face when he come runnin’ back to the house.”

“Hold on, hold on…” Tate tried to calm her down. “Let’s start at the beginning. Ronnie came here to report the incident and you called the police?”

“Yes, sir, well I called that 911.” Vonda said.

“Let’s go back just a bit.” He said and Vonda nodded her head. “He went out to the hayfield in the morning and you didn’t see him until he came back telling you what happened, correct?”

“Well no, not at all.” Vonda said. “We had a early lunch, and he went out there about 11:30 worked about ninety minutes and we got that awful rainstorm.”

“Rainstorm?”

“Lawdy.” Norvel chimed in. “That was awful. I’d hafa mind to start gatherin some gopher wood and start a buildin’ on the ark, that was such a nasty storm.”

“Wasn’t it though?” Vonda agreed.

“Wait. He came back from the field during the rainstorm and then he went back out?”

“That’s right.” Vonda told him. “Ronnie come in soaked to the skin, and changed inta some dry clothes. It rained so hard it nearly knocked cable out twice while we was a watchin’ “Days of Our Lives”.

“I love that show. Zelma’s TiVos it fer me.”

“Ya’ll got the TiVo?” Vonda asked.

“Yes’m you should get one. It will change yer life.” Norvel took a step in. “Are you a EJAMI er a SAFE?”

“I go back ‘n’ forth, but ya know I think Elvis and that Hernandez girl would be a cute couple, don’t you?” Vonda asked Norvel.

Norvel sat down on the footstool beside Vonda. “I thought that’s what they was a leading up to, but I heard theys a killin’ her off.”

“No!”

“Truth! An’ I think Brady a pullin’ the switch on that ol’ Vivian is a hoot!”

“Excuse me,” Detective Thatcher cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt the editors of Soap Opera Digest, but could we get back to Ronnie and the hay field?”

“Oh…” Vonda turned red. “I’m sorry, it’s just our story is getting’ so good.”

“Ain’t it though?” Norvel nodded his head.

“For the record, it’s Samantha and E.J. all the way, but I need to know when Ronnie went into the hayfield the second time and how long he was there.” Tate insisted.

“Well…” Vonda thought a moment. “We watched ‘Days’ by the time E.J. told Stefano…”

Norvel put his hands over his ears. “Don’t tell me! I don’t git to watch it til the kids is in bed.”

“Sorry, Norvel.” Vonda leaned over. “But it’ll knock your socks off! Anyway, the storm had ended by the end of the show, so we turned off the TV and went outside to pick up sticks and stuff. That wind was somethin’ awful.”

“So Ronnie went back out to the hay field about two, two thirty?”

“Well of course not. The last thing you want to do is bail wet hay. We both walked out there about three and it was still soppy, but the sun was hot, so after Trey and the girls got home from school, Ronnie wondered out there to see if maybe it would be dry enough to finish up after dinner.”

“So you went out there about three?”

“Yes, sir, around that time.”

“And you didn’t notice anything?”

“Not at all. Just looked like a tractor, a few bails and wet alfalfa ta me.” Vonda said.

“He left the tractor out there?” Tate made a note in his notebook. “He didn’t bring it in when the rain started and then take it back out?”

“’Course not Mr. Tate. Ronnie heard that first clap a thunder and high tailed his behind to the house.”

“So he went out to the field alone about…?”

“I’d say four thirty, maybe closer to five.”

“And how many hours was he out there before he came to the house and you called 911?”

“Not hours, detective, minutes. He wasn’t gone more’n five minutes, just as long as it took to walk out there and run screamin’ back at the top of his lungs.”

Detective Tate closed his notebook and stood. “Mrs. Shephard. I thank you for your time. I will need you to come to the station and sign a statement.”

“Sign a statement?” Vonda stood and asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What for?”

“Mrs. Shephard, you confirmed what the state has believed from the beginning, this wasn’t a tragic accident.”

“It had to be” Vonda insisted.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Shephard. This was definitely a murder.”