Elvis and The Dearly Departed. Peggy WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Praise for Peggy Webb and Elvis and the Dearly Departed
“Webb’s clever and wickedly witty comedic mystery takes her readers through a fast-paced family plot, full of irreverently clever and sensually entertaining twists that would leave ‘Elvis the Pelvis’ turning in his grave!”
—Tom Wilson, creator of Ziggy®
“Peggy Webb is a comic genius. With the sly wit of a modern Mark Twain and the Southern flair of Fried Green Tomatoes, she creates an unforgettable, laugh-aloud story. Elvis and the Dearly Departed is a must read!”
—Charlotte Hughes, New York Times bestselling author of What Looks Like Crazy
“Peggy Webb and laughter go together like grits and gravy. Elvis and the Dearly Departed will leave you hollering for more!”
—Vicki Lewis Thompson, New York Times bestselling author of Overhexed
“A fast-paced, fun read full of clever narrative and witty dialogue. Kooky, well-written characters, right down to the dog. Pure entertainment!”
—Dixie Cash, author of Don’t Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes
“This crazy romp has everything: stilettos, chocolate, a sexy bad-boy not-quite-ex, even a recipe for an Elvis favorite, with all the Mississippi sugar and sass of a pecan bourbon ball. Grab your funeral home fan and visit a spell.”
—Cathy Pickens, author of the Southern Fried mysteries
“Elvis and the Dearly Departed is pure southern lunacy of the best possible kind. Read this book, then give it to your best friend—or anyone else you know who needs a good laugh. I’m already looking forward to Peggy Webb’s next book. I can’t wait to see what Callie and Elvis get up to next.”
—Laurien Berenson, author of Doggie Day Care Murder
Books by Peggy Webb
ELVIS AND THE DEARLY DEPARTED
ELVIS AND THE GRATEFUL DEAD
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Elvis and the Dearly Departed
Peggy Webb
For Cecilia, Susan, David, and William, with love from your Gigi
Contents
Chapter 1: Love, Vodka, and Red Pasties
Chapter 2: Hairdos, Body Heat, and Bubbles Malone
Chapter 3: Feuds, Hot Fudge, and Moveable Corpses
Chapter 4: Big City, Big Lies, Big Trouble
Chapter 5: Hot Tips, Hair Spray, and Undercover Bombshells
Chapter 6: Lemonade, Pregnant Cats, and Frozen Stiffs
Chapter 7: Bengay, Diet Pepsi, and Murder
Chapter 8: Disguises, Discoveries, and Cat and Mouse Games
Chapter 9: Skullduggery, Moonlight, and Mosquitoes
Chapter 10: Fleas, Fitness, and Mayhem
Chapter 11: Killers, Cream Puffs, and Casinos
Chapter 12: Sweet Tea, Motives, and Ménage à Trois
Chapter 13: Locks, Spies, and Victoria’s Secret
Chapter 14: Guns, Strangers, and Man-eating Trollops
Chapter 15: Steam Heat, Rambo-ette, and Naked Truth
Chapter 16: Rocky Times, Rock Bottom, and Rocky Malone
Chapter 17: Uninvited Guests, Loose Tongues, and Loose Libidos
Chapter 18: Cops, Clues, and Blue Christmas
Chapter 19: Accusations, Threats, and Honey-Baked Ham
Chapter 20: True Love, True Confessions, and Dirty Linen
Chapter 21: Showdown, Tell-All, and Fishing
Elvis’ Opinion #I on the Valentine Family, Zen Buddhism, and Leftover T-bone Steak
Nobody asks my opinion around here, but if they did I’d tell them basset hounds are the most brilliant dogs on earth. We could rule the world if they’d let us. Of course, around here I’m lucky if I get to rule over the oak tree I consider my private pissing post. After all, I was the first dog on these premises, and if you ask me that makes me the King. Not to mention the fact that I had umpteen hit records in my other life as a fat man in a white sequined jumpsuit.
I guess you’re thinking I’m one of those modern-day reincarnationists, but I’m not. I’m Baptist to the bone. Give me hellfire and damnation anytime over all that New Age stuff. Callie Valentine Jones—that’s my human mom—claims to be Zen Buddhist. Burns candles and chants stuff under full moons and all that mumbo jumbo. But I think that’s because she’s just looking everywhere for answers to all the stuff she has to deal with. Her inconvenient attraction to her almost ex, for one thing.
That would be my human daddy, Jack. They had a falling-out over his Harley Screamin’ Eagle with the heated seats. Take it from me—those seats feel mighty good on a nasty day in January when temperatures in Tupelo, Mississippi (my birthplace, population forty thousand), drop below forty.
I’m partial, myself, to hot weather. Lazy August days like today. Brings out the best in me. I can lie in the shade and let my ears flap in the breeze. Nobody would notice one is longer than the other, which has kept me from winning more Best in Show titles than I care to think about. But what’s a dog show title when you’re already the King?
Back to the Valentines…Callie’s mama is always teetering on the brink of financial doom. Personally I admire a woman gutsy enough to place a fifty-dollar bet on a five-dollar hand. It’s not as if Ruby Nell’s addicted or anything. She just likes an occasional jaunt to Tunica, where casinos sprang up out of the cotton patch like strangler kudzu after the Mississippi legislature had a big brain fart and legalized gambling. That’s all right, Mama! I sang some of my biggest hits in the casinos of Las Vegas.
And then there’s Lovie. Aptly named. She’s had more lovers than I’ve had fleas. Callie worries needlessly over her cousin’s affairs. Any woman who can build a catering business out of recipes featuring whiskey and sherry deserves the motto love me tender. And any other way she wants it.
Some say Callie’s uncle Charlie is the only stable, sensible member of the family. Granted, he is her rock of ages. But let me tell you, before Lovie’s daddy settled down to making the dead look like they can sit up and walk over at Eternal Rest Funeral Home (pronounced E-ternal around here), Charlie Valentine was conducting a colorful life that narrowly kept him from singing the jailhouse rock. A man after my own heart. Give him a sequined jumpsuit and some sideburns and he’d still set hearts aflutter, even at sixty-two.
Well, now. What’s this I hear?
It’ll never make a number-one hit record, but it’s music to my ears. Callie, calling me to supper. Judging by the smells that have been coming from the grill, I’d say it’s a good leftover T-bone steak.
Thank you, thank you very much. Elvis has left the building.
Obituaries
Tupelo—Dr. Leonard Laton, 78, prominent physician, died Wednesday, August 8, at Peaceful Pines Nursing Home after an extended illness. He is predeceased by his wife, Marie Hotchins Laton.
Survivors include one son, Kevin Laton of Tupelo; three daughters, Janice Laton Mims and her husband, Bradford, San Francisco; Bevvie Laton, Boulder; and Mellie Laton, Tupelo; and three step-grandchildren also of San