Don't Fall For That Trick: A Booke Cases Mystery

Part 1 of 4

"Aw. Bless your heart."

"A-ha! A fine example!"

Darla's eyebrows went up. "Whatever could you mean?"

"In that tone of voice, 'Bless your heart' is actually Southern code for 'You poor idiot.'"

Before she could reply, the bell rattled and our guest of honor burst in. Becky Henderson, sobbing, dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "There's been a terrible accident! My brother is in the hospital!"

***

Darla called one of our employees, Maggie, to come watch the store. As soon as she got off the phone, Darla went straight into counselor mode with Ms. Henderson. "What happened, dear?"

"Well, you know, Trick had that car wreck a couple months ago."

Darla and I nodded. This was Henderson's second trip to the emergency room in a matter of weeks. Less than two months earlier, the famed drunkard got behind the wheel of his pickup truck in an inebriated state. Henderson drove into a ditch and the truck flipped. It was a miracle he survived.

Ms. Henderson dabbed her eyes again with the crumpled tissue. "He's been at home recovering, but he had some sort of reaction to his medication."

Darla touched Ms. Henderson's arm. "What sort of reaction?"

The other woman sniffled. "I don't know. Something bad. He seemed so much better yesterday. It was his birthday. We were all celebrating ... "

"What a shame."

"I've just been bawling since the doctors called. I'm on my way to the hospital now. I just wanted to tell you, since we had the signing scheduled and all ... "

Darla tilted her head as she smiled at Becky. I knew that look. "We'll take you to the hospital." She patted the woman's hand.

Ms. Henderson seemed surprised with Darla's compassion. "Oh! You don't need to—"

"Come on, now. You shouldn't drive in this state." Southern hospitality had rubbed off on my Yankee wife. Darla gave me a look. "Let's go." My wife was already at the door with her purse. She didn't even change back into her flat driving shoes.

It was about fifteen minutes to the hospital. Ms. Henderson wiped her nose, complaining what a mess she must look. I could only glance in the rearview mirror, but she looked okay to me. I didn't know whether it was polite to discuss her makeup, so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the road.

Darla put a reassuring hand on the woman's arm. "You were there the night he had the car accident, right?"

"There were a lot of people in and out that night. I was there because Trick wanted to talk about the book."

"What did he think of it?"

Ms. Henderson wiped her nose. "He had some problems with it. I wasn't surprised, I guess. The reason I such a hard time finding someone to print the book is because he threatened all the big publishers. None of them wanted to risk a lawsuit."

"You showed him the manuscript?"

"No. Trick hadn't talked to anyone in the family in years. But he got hold of a copy somehow—he never would say how. Probably from Mom."

"So he called you out to the house to put a stop to the book?"

She frowned. "To talk about it. I got out there late. I was at a book thing, and didn't get out there until midnight or so."

"Isn't that awfully late?"

"Trick sleeps all day and works all night. He isn't available during any normal people hours."