Read Online Divas Do Tell by Virginia Brown - Free Book Online Page A

power to her. I found the book to be quite entertaining, even though it’s not at all my usual reading material. Maybe I enjoyed it because I know the people and places, even with all the names changed and the events altered.”
    “So what do you think of the movie being made? I mean, it includes a lot of these scenes in the book that people might consider degrading.”
    “I seriously doubt someone in Poughkeepsie will associate Maybelle Greer with Melody Gooch. Or have ever heard of either of us, movie or not. Besides, so many minor scenes end up on the cutting room floor, I’ve heard. The main focus is the scandal about Joe Don Battles and Sharona Smith. Really, my biggest complaint about the book is the aliases Dixie Lee chose for her characters. Wherever did she get those monikers—from a redneck’s guide to baby names?”
    “Probably,” I said. “But then, my real name is just as odd, so I don’t have room to talk. My mother was still under the influence of ether when she named me and my sister.”
    Maybelle walked us to the door, smiling as we left, and it wasn’t until I glanced back at her as she stood in the doorway watching us that I saw what could only be described as an expression of utter fury on her face. Maybe Maybelle wasn’t as tolerant of the book and publicity as she claimed.
    Since my car was at Bitty’s house, Rayna dropped me off after we all settled on a time to go down to Hickory Flat to talk to the last suspect on our list, Johnny Payne, alias Jimmy Patterson. I had to work at Silk Promises, Carolann Barnett’s lingerie shop on the square, but would be free in the morning to go with them to the tiny community about twenty miles down the road.
    My car was parked on the street in front of Bitty’s house. Even in winter the house is lovely, with a manicured front lawn behind a wrought iron fence, a bricked walk up to a front porch that goes all the way across the front and down the sides, and crystal porch chandeliers made just for outside. The house is painted pink with blue shutters, and the wicker chairs on the porch normally hold blue cushions. During winter weather Bitty has a storm door on the front of the house to keep out the cold. In the summertime an antique screen hangs there, often open to allow in cool breezes. Mississippi has approximately four months of perfect weather, two in the spring and two in the fall. The other months are either too hot or too cold. According to Southern standards, anyway. Northerners might think our winters mild. We don’t. We like sweater weather. Few Northerners can survive a Mississippi summer unscathed. They go back home wrung out like an old dishrag, often too weak to stand, moaning about killer heat. They’re right. We’re a tough crowd down here.
    “So did you decide who’s trying to kill Dixie Lee?” Bitty asked when I went into the house and found her in the kitchen. It’s been newly remodeled due to the unfortunate fire of the year before. Now it has lovely granite counters that aren’t exactly period accurate but are much less likely to catch fire when a skillet of bacon gets out of control.
    “We’re pretty much decided on who’s sending the death threats anyway,” I said as I opened the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of sweet tea. “Billy Joe Cramer gets the prize, we think. Of course, we haven’t talked to Johnny Payne alias Jimmy Patterson yet, so it’s not a hundred percent. Are these dishes in the dishwasher clean?”
    “Yes. So what’d you think of Maybelle Pruitt?”
    “Is that her last name now? I didn’t ask. She talks a good game, but she’s not as okay with the book and movie as she likes to pretend. She was all sweet and amused to our face, but I happened to catch her watching us when we left, and she looked as mad as a possum on a pole. Forgive the colloquialism.” I pulled a clean glass out of the dishwasher, shaking my head.
    Bitty laughed. “Finally. You’re beginning to talk normal