Death Crashes the Party by Vickie Fee Read Free Book Online

and Mr. Sweet, who were peering over my shoulder.
    â€œI wonder who those unmarked cars belong to,” I said.
    â€œIt’s the Feds,” Winette said matter-of-factly. “You can tell by those cheap suits and sunglasses.”
    A gray-haired man in the lead car, along with his driver, had gone into the sheriff’s office, while the others waited outside. By this time, we weren’t the only ones watching the spectacle. People from inside the barbershop, the diner, and other businesses were gathering in doorways and spilling out onto the sidewalks, gawking at the entourage.
    In a couple of minutes, the sheriff emerged from the building with the gray-haired man and Deputy Ted Horton. A guy in a cheap suit and sunglasses opened the back door of one of the sedans and took the arm of an older man who was handcuffed and helped him out of the car.
    Heat waves rising off the asphalt distorted the scene I was watching unfold. For a brief moment, I almost convinced myself it was a mirage, just a trick of the light. Voices behind me brought me back to reality.
    Winette said, “Whaaa? Huh?” Mr. Sweet muttered something equally unintelligible.
    I rushed into the parking area to get a closer look before gasping, “Daddy Wayne!”
    In complete shock, I found myself crumpled on the curb. Then Winette and Mr. Sweet each grabbed one of my arms, helped me up, and led me into their office.
    â€œThis can’t be happening,” I said as Winette brought me a glass of water. “I need to call somebody—a lawyer or my mother-in-law.”
    â€œYou need to call Larry Joe,” Winette said calmly.
    â€œYou’re right.” Just as I picked up my cell phone, it rang. It was Larry Joe.
    â€œHoney, they’ve arrested your dad and—”
    â€œI know. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to give you a heads-up. I’ve been on the phone with our attorney.”
    â€œLarry Joe, what’s this all about? There must be some mistake.”
    â€œIt’s something about some drugs they found on one of our trucks in Oklahoma.”
    â€œBut that’s crazy. How can they think your dad has anything to do with that?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m sure Bill Scott will have Dad out of jail within a few hours. What I really need you to do is to go over and be with Mama. I told her Dad had been taken in for questioning, but you know her phone will start ringing off the hook pretty soon.”
    â€œSure. I’ll head over to your mama’s right now. Keep me posted.”
    In the car, on my way over to my mother-in-law’s, I decided I had better call my own mother before she phoned Miss Betty or me. Since my husband and I had both grown up in Dixie, I’d known his parents pretty much all my life. As seemed to be common in the South, I grew up calling all my mama’s friends “Miss Betty,” “Miss Sylvia,” and so on, while I addressed most of their husbands as Mr. Smith, Mr. Brown, and so forth. When Larry Joe and I got married, it seemed a bit formal to keep calling his dad Mr. McKay, so he ended up being Daddy Wayne, while his mom remained Miss Betty to me.
    â€œHi, Mama. . . .”
    â€œDear Lord, Liv. What in the world’s going on? I just had a call from Sue Maynard, saying she saw some men take Wayne McKay into the police station—in handcuffs.”
    â€œHe’s been taken in for questioning about drugs found on one of the trucks. But Larry Joe has already talked to their attorney, Bill Scott, and I’m sure he’ll have Daddy Wayne out of there soon. I’m on my way over to be with Larry Joe’s mom right now.”
    â€œOf course, hon. You tell her we’re praying for her and Wayne.”
    Mama hung up, and I knew instinctively she’d be right back on the phone, calling all the ladies in her prayer circle. That should keep her busy for a while , I thought.
    I pulled into the driveway of Wayne