Page 70 of A Rose of Steel
“Or was it that you wanted to announce your authority?” she said.
“What does that mean?” Coach Buddy said.
“Was that payback for Bumper not going to Texas A&M?” Auntie asked.
“Not coming to A&M?” the assistant coach said. “What’dya mean? You talking about two years ago?”
“Was what payback?” Shane said. He looked at the coach and back at Auntie. It was plain to see, they didn’t know what she was talking about.
“His death. Or should I say murder?”
“Oh.” Coach Buddy said the word and left his mouth in the shape it formed when it came out.
Shane Blanchard was quiet for a moment, brows knitted together, until it hit him what Auntie Zanne was saying. “Are you accusing me of murder?” Shane blurted out the words.
“Maybe both of you,” she said.
“That’s laughable,” Shane Blanchard said.
“I’m not laughing,” Auntie said, and put both of her hands on her hips.
Just then the door swung open and I thought,Thank God, Rhett is here. I won’t have to be the one to intervene.
But as I turned I saw it was a troupe of old people coming in, it seemed, to rally her.
“Babet!?” Chester came charging in the door first. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
A stream of white hair, hunched shoulders and wide-eyed people, swinging cloth bags, canes and purses filed in, all gravitating behind Auntie Zanne forming a wedge, seemingly a tactical formation as they prepared for war.
I chuckled. I had no doubt, with the looks on their faces, they could take down the two men opposing Auntie Zanne. I recognized Senior-Would-Be-Soldier Chester. He was a Roble Belle, but none of the others were. I scanned their ranks, and I saw Miriam Coulter. The organist. Ahh... These must be the JOY Club members.
“What are they doing to you?” one of them asked. This senior was a blast from the eighties—flowered leggings, a windbreaker, sun visor, tennis shoes, and a fanny pack.
“What arewedoing toher?” Mighty Max exec Shane Blanchard boomed. “She’s accusing us of murder.”
“Who did they kill, Babet?” another one asked, stepping forward, holding her purse ready to strike. I wasn’t sure if she’d hit anything. She had on thick glasses, her head tilted up, peering through the bottom of her lenses to make her focus better.
“Somebody call the police.” I heard a voice cracked with age. “We’ll hold them until they get here.”
“I’ve got the FBI coming,” Auntie Zanne said and looked my way. I nodded, acknowledging that I had reached Rhett.
“The FBI?” Coach Buddy finally found the ability to speak. “Why in the world would you call the FBI?”
“You know why,” Auntie Zanne said. “It is illegal to run a bribery operation and then kill someone to hide it.”
“What the heck!” The coach took off his baseball cap and ran his hand over his head. He did a complete one-eighty, shook his head then turned back to face the Senior Soldiers. “You’ve got to be kidding, right? Who did we kill?”
“Who didyoukill, you mean,” Shane said. “Because I didn’t kill anyone.”
The coach frowned. “I didn’t either.”
“Bumper Hackett,” Auntie Zanne said. “That’s who.”
“Bumper!... Not Bumper!... We need to get them! They messed with the wrong town!”Came the cries from Auntie’s warmongers, and I felt that it was time for me to step in.
“Okay,” I said. I went over and stood between the two factions, facing Auntie’s group. I held up my hand. “We are not vigilantes. If these men did do anything wrong,” I swiveled around from the waist, looked at them, and turned back, “which we don’t know for sure that they did,” I narrowed my eyes at Auntie, “then we’ll let the authorities take care of it.”
“Don’t be a traitor,” Auntie Zanne said to me through clenched teeth.
