Elvis and the Grateful Dead by Peggy Webb

“Anybody can be forgetful. The last time I was in Walmart I forgot to buy Jarvetis’ expositories. And him not even able to sit without a cushion.”
    If I don’t do something fast, this summit is going to turn from murder to hemorrhoids. I lead the discussion back to Bertha’s motive, but nobody has a clue why she would kill Dick and Brian.
    When Lovie repeats my theory that one of the impersonators is knocking off the competition, Fayrene jumps right in.
    “I’ll bet it was George Blakely.”
    Otherwise known as Texas Elvis.
    “You’re just jealous because he danced with me and not you.” Mama in a huff is a sight to behold—eyes and cheeks blazing. And I swear even her hair springs up like the tines on a devil’s pitchfork.
    “Mama, have you had the scissors to your hair?”
    “Why do you ask?” She fluffs it, a sure sign of guilt.
    “You have.”
    “Only to trim a little straggle or two.”
    I don’t leave straggles and Mama knows it. Just wait till she asks me for another fifty dollars. I’m likely to give her only thirty.
    “Dear hearts, let’s get back to George. Fayrene, why do you think he might have killed Dick and Brian?”
    “Because I heard him in an argument with Dick about who was going to win the tribute artist competition.”
    “When was this?” Uncle Charlie asks.
    “Last night at the party. Right after the impersonators got there.”
    “Do you recall exactly what George said?” I ask.
    “Naturally. He said I’m going to win this contest no matter what it takes. ”
    Mama jumps to his defense. “George is a bit arrogant and high strung, but I don’t think he’s a murderer. What about that one from Tennessee? He has shifty eyes.”
    “Love Me Tender Elvis is a pussycat,” I say. “I guarantee his only crime is bad hair.”
    “You don’t know that, Carolina.” When Mama gets really upset with me she calls me by my full name, which I hate. It makes me feel like a state. Though I guess I’m lucky she didn’t name me Georgia and call me George. “Any one of the impersonators had the same motive and opportunity.”
    “Still, Mama…he may be the best lead we have.”
    Uncle Charlie steps in. “Why don’t you and Lovie follow that lead while I research the Internet to see what I can find out about our impersonators? Ruby Nell, can you and Fayrene handle the T-shirt booth till I get back?”
    “As long as you’re back by four, Charlie.”
    For reasons I can’t fathom, Uncle Charlie is not too happy with Mama’s demand. Usually he’s Mama’s staunchest supporter and defender, no matter how outrageous she acts.
    Is he rattled because he needs to be at Eternal Rest taking care of business, or could it be he doesn’t like Mama’s latest venture? If he’s upset about something as innocuous as dancing, he must have a good reason.
    I’ll have to keep an eye on the situation…as soon as I have a free eye to use. Between murder of the impersonators and my dog custody suit with Jack, I’m lucky to keep up with my own business, much less Mama’s.
     
    Putting Elvis back on his leash, Lovie and I set out to uncover Texas Elvis’ dirty linen. But first we detour by my hairstyling tent so I can get the impersonators ready for the mid-afternoon round of competition.
    There’s only one tribute artist waiting, and thank goodness it’s Love Me Tender Elvis. His real name is Thaxton Miller, a handsome thirty-something salesman at a motorcycle shop in Memphis. Festival scuttlebutt is that the spirit of Graceland has rubbed off on him and he’s a shoo-in to win.
    I don’t know whether he channels Elvis or not. I haven’t heard him sing. All I know is that I’m fixing to make Thaxton’s hair look so good you’d have to be Elvis’ mama to tell it from the real thing.
    Removing the guinea pig wig from his head, I say, “Do you want me to dispose of this?”
    “No. I’m keeping it for sentimental reasons.”
    I don’t know how anybody can be sentimental about a hairpiece