Iced Chiffon by Duffy Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

putting yourself in danger like this. It’s just not right. What if something happens?”
    “It’s a family rally, nothing dangerous, but I’m not sure what I’m looking for.” I bit down on my bottom lip. “You know more people and their business than I do. Maybe you’ll see something or someone. Come with me.”
    “
American Idol
is on. You know I love
American Idol
.”
    “I’ll do another month with Bernard.”
    “I’ll be ready at six.”

Chapter Four

    “ T HAT is absolutely the worst parking job I’ve ever seen in my life,” I said to Auntie KiKi. I frowned at the Beemer sitting kittywhumpus at the curb. “You’re going to get a ticket.”
    “I have a martini headache. Any Savannah cop would understand about a martini headache and bad parking.” KiKi rubbed her forehead, then tucked her purse under her arm. We started down Whitaker. “How did I let you talk me into this?” KiKi asked me. “I should be curled up in front of my TV with Putter snoring at my side and forgetting this day ever happened.”
    “It happened, and tomorrow when Bernard is mashing my toes instead of yours, you’ll be mighty thankful.”
    A warm glow from wrought-iron lamplights peeked though the Spanish moss and overhanging live oaks. Early evening traffic ran heavy with tourists going the wrong wayon the one-way streets and looking for restaurants recommended on Yelp. Dodging a horse-drawn carriage, KiKi and I crossed to Johnson Square, the first square laid out by founding father James Oglethorpe and his merry men. There were twenty-three squares left, progress seeing fit to turn two of the original ones into parking garages before the good citizens of Savannah chained themselves to trees and threatened anarchy.
    “Big crowd,” KiKi said, our steps slowing as we got close to the makeshift stage by the sundial that didn’t work for beans since it was under the trees. “The press is even here; must be a slow night for Savannah mayhem.”
    Looking like one of those preachers on Sunday-morning TV, Franklin stood tall at a podium, family at his side, his voice tinny over the cheap microphone. KiKi gazed longingly at a park bench. “Think anyone will notice if I laid down here and went to sleep for a bit? Why did we come here?”
    “The question is why would Cupcake come here?”
    “Well, bless her heart.” KiKi’s voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes fixed on the stage. “Virgil’s wife is downright homely and then some. I mean like bow-wow. Next time I get my promo pictures done for
Dancing with KiKi
, I want the guy who took her photo for the front of that there flyer you showed me. Being a reverend’s wife must be mighty hard on a woman.”
    I gave KiKi the
Shush; mind your manners
look, but I had to admit she was right as rain, and, unfortunately, all five kids favored Mrs. Birdie Franklin more than the reverend. “Birdie is Hollis’s second cousin. I see her once in a while, and every time she looks more…”
    “Homely,” KiKi finished.
    “I was going for tired, but homely fits.”
    Franklin’s sermonizing wound down to a mixture of “alleluia”s and “amen”s, and the choir started up with “Amazing Grace.” People shook Franklin’s hand and dropped money into a box at his side. I pulled a few bills from Old Yeller that I’d earmarked for luxuries like toilet paper and shampoo.
    “You’re donating to the cause?” KiKi eyed the ten dollars in my hand.
    “I want to ask him about Cupcake, and this gives me an excuse to get close and not look conspicuous.”
    “You don’t think ‘
Bless you, Reverend Franklin, and did you happen to whack Janelle Claiborne last night?’
is a mite conspicuous?”
    “I’ll think of something.” I made my way to the stage, and when I got to Franklin, I handed over the money. He smiled but it morphed into a frown when I added, “Are you doing the funeral service for Janelle Claiborne?”
    His lips thinned to a straight line and his eyes went cold, his voice