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Elvis and the Grateful Dead. Peggy WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.

Elvis and the Grateful Dead - Peggy Webb


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      MURDER ON THE DANCE FLOOR

      Lovie and Dick are gyrating so wildly that Mama and Uncle Charlie quit the dance floor. If I couldn’t see the panic on Lovie’s face, I’d think she was doing this on purpose.

      “Uncle Charlie!” I yell, but he has already spun into action. When Dick Gerard topples, he lands right in Charlie Valentine’s arms.

      While Tewanda Hardy and Beulah Jane fan Dick with their cardboard Elvis fans, I race inside to get some ice water and a cold cloth. Considering the heat, no wonder he’s so overcome. Not to mention the potentcy of Lovie’s charms and her Prohibition Punch.

      By the time I get back, my bassett hound is on the scene and Dick is laid out on the concrete.

      Uncle Charlie looks up from the body. “It’s no use, dear heart. He’s dead…”

      Books by Peggy Webb

      ELVIS AND THE DEARLY DEPARTED

      ELVIS AND THE GRATEFUL DEAD

      ELVIS AND THE MEMPHIS MAMBO MURDERS

      Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

      Elvis and the Grateful Dead

      Peggy Webb

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      KENSINGTON BOOKS

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      For my dream team, agent Kelly Harms and editor

       John Scognamiglio,

       with love and deepest gratitude for giving me the

       freedom to write with wings.

      Contents

      Elvis’ Opinion #1 on Impersonators, the Valentine Family, and Fried Pigskins

      Chapter 1: Hair Gel, Flat Notes, and the Rockabilly Corpse

      Chapter 2: Motels, Mexico, and the Fatal Fox-Trot

      Elvis’ Opinion #2 on Icons, Hospitality, and Murder

      Chapter 3: Clues, Mistaken Identity, and the Dead Dick

      Chapter 4: Rhinestones, Half-Baked Plans, and Moaning Strangers

      Elvis’ Opinion #3 on Cocker Spaniels, Sleeping Arrangements, and Rat Poison

      Chapter 5: Sex, Valium, and the Big Bad Wolf

      Chapter 6: Fancy Footwork, Fancy Lying, and Double Trouble

      Elvis’ Opinion #4 on Appearances, Suspects, and Gossip

      Chapter 7: Character Flaws, Dirty Linen, and Swiveling Hips

      Chapter 8: Gamblin’, Lyin’, and Cheatin’

      Elvis’ Opinion #5 on Style, Performance, and Top Billing

      Chapter 9: Dangerous George, Pee-Wee Herman, and Hot Air

      Chapter 10: Sunsets, Pompadours, and Pig Pens

      Elvis’ Opinion #6 on Mismatched Anatomy, Psychic Powers, and Guilt

      Chapter 11: Pork Revenge, Hog Death, and Handcuffs

      Chapter 12: Costumes, Boyfriends, and Unexpected Developments

      Elvis’ Opinion #7 on Vets, Cats, and Fate

      Chapter 13: Guns, Perps, and Poison

      Chapter 14: Sweet Talk, Lies, and Vanishing Elvises

      Elvis’ Opinion #8 on Foreign Languages, Freedom, and Illegitimate Dogs

      Chapter 15: Bribery, Cute Shoes, and Dark and Deadly Strangers

      Chapter 16: Boogie, Bad Karma, and Hot Bodies

      Elvis’ Opinion #9 on Marriage, Pickled Pigs’ Lips, and Mark Twain

      Chapter 17: Bathroom Breaks, Hunks, and Suspicious Minds

      Chapter 18: Winners, Losers, and Vanishing Bertha

      Elvis’ Opinion #10 on Illegal Holes, Pissants, and Love Triangles

      Chapter 19: Complications, Tangled Webs, and Geriatric Courtship

      Chapter 20: Peach Tea, Poison, and Surprising Suspects

      Elvis’ Opinion #11 on Motorcycles, Séances, and Courtship

      Chapter 21: Red Roses, Wilted Daisies, and Jealous Lovers

      Chapter 22: Guitars, Moonlight, and Smoking Shotguns

      Elvis’ Opinion #12 on Hideaways, Harleys, and Hot Water

      Elvis’ Opinion #1 on Impersonators, the Valentine Family, and Fried Pigskins

      If you ask me, all these impersonators running around Tupelo in sequined jumpsuits could use remedial voice lessons. Nobody can hold a candle to the King. That would be me, though these days I could pass through a crowd unnoticed if it weren’t for my pink bow tie. I also wanted to wear my black pompadour to the Elvis Festival, but Callie (my human mom) said basset hounds look silly in toupees.

      What does she know? Don’t get me wrong. She’s the best human mom a dog could have, but she can’t even keep her own life straight, much less mine. If she’d seek my sage advice, I’d tell her to stop trying to take care of the world (and that includes picking up stray dogs and cats as well as loaning money to everybody with a sob story who walks into her beauty shop). Mostly, though, I’d tell her to drop divorce proceedings.

      If any two people belong together, it’s Callie and Jack (my human daddy). She says they split over his Harley Screamin’ Eagle, but I know better. They split because she wants a family and he’s worried about having children and then getting shot and leaving them fatherless.

      Of course, he’s never told Callie the truth because he’s never even told her about his real profession—and if I told you, I’d have to kill you. Suffice it to say, Jack Jones makes Rambo look timid.

      Callie and Jack are at an impasse and “All Shook Up.” At the rate things are going, it looks like I’ll be punted between them for the next three years. Like a pigskin.

      Speaking of which, I think I’ll mosey on over to the refreshment booth and see what’s cooking. Fried pigskins, for one thing. Lovie’s in charge. She shares my opinion that the body ought to be primed with sugar and fat. (Spirits, too, which she uses generously in her catering business recipes, though Callie would die if she knew her cousin sometimes slips me a little of her Jack Daniel’s apple pie.)

      Take it from me, Lovie and I know a thing or two. She’s a hundred-and-ninety-pound bombshell with plenty of curves to hold on to; and in spite of my slightly mismatched ears and my portly figure, I’m a suave dog and a force to be reckoned with. We’ve both had more lovers than I’ve had hit records. But ever since Ann-Margret batted her French poodle eyes at me and Rocky Malone blew into Lovie’s life during what the Valentine family now refers to as the Bubbles Caper, we’ve both been testing the waters of love everlasting.

      Frankly, if it weren’t for the example set by Ruby Nell (Callie’s mama) and Charlie (Lovie’s Daddy) I’d be howling “Rock-a-Hula Baby” instead of “Wear My Ring Around Your Neck.” Both of them had great marriages and still worship the quicksand their immortal beloveds walked on. (Even a Rock ’N’ Roll King knows his Beethoven.)

      If you ask me (which nobody does around here), Ruby Nell and Charlie would benefit from a good dose of “Love Me Tender” with somebody who is not six feet under. In fact, I might help her find a savvy senior gentleman who appreciates a woman who walks on the wild side so she’ll stay out of Callie’s hair (and her pocketbook).

      While I’m at it, I might find Charlie a smart, witty woman who still pays homage to her libido. A nice romance could be the key to unlock the passion he hides


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