she'd be late, she snatched up her purse and car keys.
If Luke had, indeed, fallen asleep in the little tramp's bed, she was going to yank his butt right out of it, then beat the hell out of Emma Jean. Enough was enough.
Wilma immediately called Matt. He was her nephew, and they were close. They had been talking about Luke's carrying on with Emma Jean Veazey and how it might be getting serious.
Matt was still asleep, but she told Ruthie, his wife, that it was an emergency, and he finally came on the line. He listened, then said, "I can't say anything over the phone, Aunt Wilma, but you know what I'm thinking."
She knew all right. He was agreeing with her that Luke was going to be in big trouble if he was snoozing in Rudy Veazey's bed. "Well, what do you think we should do?"
"I'd better drive out there and look around."
She felt relief, but not much and urged, "You'd better hurry, because I think that's where Alma is headed, and from the way she sounded on the phone, Lord help them both if she gets there first."
Chapter 3
Cleve Hampton, III, or "Buddy," as he was known to intimates, fought the impulse to send the golf putter crashing against the wall.
Murline Pruitt watched nervously. She well knew his temper and dreaded how he'd react to hearing Alma Ballard had called in saying she'd be late.
He set the putter aside. "Did she say how late?"
"No, just that there was some kind of family emergency."
"Damn it. First Rudy Veazey leaves sick and now this. How the hell am I supposed to keep that section of the plant running overtime when both the foreman and floor supervisor are out? Nobody likes working Saturdays, but that's too bad. What's wrong with Veazey, anyway?"
"I was told when he clocked out around four he claimed he had a stomachache."
"Call his house. Tell him about Alma not showing up, and if he wants to keep his job to get his butt back down here."
"I tried, but I kept getting a busy signal, so I called the operator, and she checked and said the phone was off the hook."
She jumped as Buddy kicked the side of his desk. "Then he's fired. Check the personnel files for who's next in seniority and promote them to his job."
After Murline rushed from the room, Buddy opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out the flask of vodka he kept there for the times when life seemed unbearable. Thanks to Luke Ballard, it was almost empty.
Buddy had a ten o'clock tee-off at the country club but couldn't leave till a replacement was found for Rudy. He just wished he could fire Alma, too, but didn't dare. Not now. Hell, he wished he had never promoted her in the first place, but she was a good worker, and he'd felt sorry for her raising her kid alone. Like everyone else, he never thought Luke would come back to Hampton to stay, only he'd been wrong. Now here he was, the richest man in Buford County, having his strings pulled by a redneck sheriff and the only way he would ever have any peace was for the son of a bitch to die.
His private line rang, and he answered, cringing to hear Burch Cleghorn's voice.
"Hey, it's me. Listen, I called your house, but the maid said you were at the office. Since it's such a nice day I figured you'd be heading to the golf course later, and I want to invite myself along if it's okay."
Buddy gritted his teeth. "I'm playing with Thad Greer."
A few seconds of silence was followed by Burch whining, "But he wouldn't care if I came along if you said it was okay."
"He might feel uncomfortable."
"That's ridiculous. I mean, it's time people start forgetting."
Buddy snickered. "You're a fool to think they ever will."
Burch's voice cracked. "Yeah, Luke made sure of that, didn't he? He fixed me, all right. But I'm not the only one. I still think he had something to do with Hardy's deeding the funeral home back over to Lucy and letting her boss him around ever since. He'll get to you, too, if he can."
Buddy was silent for a moment, not trusting himself to speak, lest he
If Luke had, indeed, fallen asleep in the little tramp's bed, she was going to yank his butt right out of it, then beat the hell out of Emma Jean. Enough was enough.
Wilma immediately called Matt. He was her nephew, and they were close. They had been talking about Luke's carrying on with Emma Jean Veazey and how it might be getting serious.
Matt was still asleep, but she told Ruthie, his wife, that it was an emergency, and he finally came on the line. He listened, then said, "I can't say anything over the phone, Aunt Wilma, but you know what I'm thinking."
She knew all right. He was agreeing with her that Luke was going to be in big trouble if he was snoozing in Rudy Veazey's bed. "Well, what do you think we should do?"
"I'd better drive out there and look around."
She felt relief, but not much and urged, "You'd better hurry, because I think that's where Alma is headed, and from the way she sounded on the phone, Lord help them both if she gets there first."
Chapter 3
Cleve Hampton, III, or "Buddy," as he was known to intimates, fought the impulse to send the golf putter crashing against the wall.
Murline Pruitt watched nervously. She well knew his temper and dreaded how he'd react to hearing Alma Ballard had called in saying she'd be late.
He set the putter aside. "Did she say how late?"
"No, just that there was some kind of family emergency."
"Damn it. First Rudy Veazey leaves sick and now this. How the hell am I supposed to keep that section of the plant running overtime when both the foreman and floor supervisor are out? Nobody likes working Saturdays, but that's too bad. What's wrong with Veazey, anyway?"
"I was told when he clocked out around four he claimed he had a stomachache."
"Call his house. Tell him about Alma not showing up, and if he wants to keep his job to get his butt back down here."
"I tried, but I kept getting a busy signal, so I called the operator, and she checked and said the phone was off the hook."
She jumped as Buddy kicked the side of his desk. "Then he's fired. Check the personnel files for who's next in seniority and promote them to his job."
After Murline rushed from the room, Buddy opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out the flask of vodka he kept there for the times when life seemed unbearable. Thanks to Luke Ballard, it was almost empty.
Buddy had a ten o'clock tee-off at the country club but couldn't leave till a replacement was found for Rudy. He just wished he could fire Alma, too, but didn't dare. Not now. Hell, he wished he had never promoted her in the first place, but she was a good worker, and he'd felt sorry for her raising her kid alone. Like everyone else, he never thought Luke would come back to Hampton to stay, only he'd been wrong. Now here he was, the richest man in Buford County, having his strings pulled by a redneck sheriff and the only way he would ever have any peace was for the son of a bitch to die.
His private line rang, and he answered, cringing to hear Burch Cleghorn's voice.
"Hey, it's me. Listen, I called your house, but the maid said you were at the office. Since it's such a nice day I figured you'd be heading to the golf course later, and I want to invite myself along if it's okay."
Buddy gritted his teeth. "I'm playing with Thad Greer."
A few seconds of silence was followed by Burch whining, "But he wouldn't care if I came along if you said it was okay."
"He might feel uncomfortable."
"That's ridiculous. I mean, it's time people start forgetting."
Buddy snickered. "You're a fool to think they ever will."
Burch's voice cracked. "Yeah, Luke made sure of that, didn't he? He fixed me, all right. But I'm not the only one. I still think he had something to do with Hardy's deeding the funeral home back over to Lucy and letting her boss him around ever since. He'll get to you, too, if he can."
Buddy was silent for a moment, not trusting himself to speak, lest he
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