All the girls laughed as if they knew her, and indeed they did. Miss Heather Peavey, I learned, was an athlete of some local renown, having excelled on a school volleyball team. And, as I noted the resemblance, I realized that she was the daughter of Lieutenant Peavey of the sheriff's department, he of the most unlikely tenor voice who sang at Binkie and Coleman's wedding, and of the most inquisitive nature into some of the expeditions I'd have preferred nobody knowing about.

Yet I was quite taken with Miss Peavey, even though she unfortunately took after her father in build and stature. She was a healthy-looking girl with a sturdy, boyish physique and an engaging smile. She, too, had on shorts, but they were of a length of your average modern dress. She wore what looked like a man's shirt, tucked in with the sleeves rolled up. Of them all, she had the most cheerful countenance.

"Thanks, Heather," Hazel Marie said. "Well, it looks like I got out of sequence here, but let's have Miss Vice Squad, Bethany LaVane."

There was some tittering at Miss LaVane's title, but she didn't seem to mind. As she stood, she exhibited some of Miss Peavey's outgoing qualities, but she put me off right away, for she seemed to have no concept of how she sounded when she opened her mouth.

Lord, that country twang! Miss LaVane was going to need a lot of help, not only with her elocution and clothing, but with that dyed-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life hair that badly needed a pair of scissors and a brush taken to it. Add three-inch-high heels on her clogs, and you have a picture of modern pulchritude.

"I'm so excited I can't hardly stand it," she announced as she teetered on her wooden platform soles. "An' I'm just proud to represent the vice squad, I don't care what y'all say."

Her long earrings tinkled when she moved her head and-to my shocked eyes-a gold ring in her navel winked at me between her cropped shirt and hip-slung pants. What was the world coming to? It was beyond me to figure out why a nose and a navel needed decorative accessories.

"And our last contestant is YoShandra Washington, Miss Detective Squad."

"You can call me Shandra," Miss Washington said, as she stood before us with a large smile on her face.

This young woman was just like the rest in her clothing, if not her complexion, and I'm speaking of the fact that all of them, with the exception of Miss Peavey, seemed to have on clothes about two sizes too small. Everything was too short, too tight, or too skimpy, and if that was the current style, I didn't care for it. Miss Washington, for instance, wore orange pants and a yellow T-shirt, both stretched so tight that I wondered how she got them on, much less how she'd get them off. But polyester does have a lot of give to it, molding itself to every convex and concave feature of the figure. Which is why I don't wear it.

"Well, that's all of us," Hazel Marie said. "I'd hoped to have two or three others, but for some reason, not all the sections of the sheriff's department came up with a representative."

Miss Peavey's hand shot up. "I know why. Most of the guys are married, and you said wives aren't eligible." She laughed. "They were afraid to vote for anybody else."

Hazel Marie raised her hand to calm down the laughter. "Okay, let's move on. Now, girls, I want you to know that this is serious business. It's real, and not something to be taken lightly. I expect each and every one of you to be at every meeting and every rehearsal. I understand that none of you have done this before-"

"But I've had training," Tasha McKenzie interrupted. "I know what we're supposed to do, and how to act and all."

"I think we have it covered for the time being, Tasha," Hazel Marie said, but I heard a note of uncertainty in her voice. It was plain that Miss McKenzie would take over if Hazel Marie gave her the chance. I hoped Miss Wiggins would prove her worth, and keep her in line.

For myself, I was glad the pageant was Hazel Marie's project, and not mine.

Chapter 14.

Hazel Marie brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "I'll turn things over to Etta Mae now. She knows how it's done, so everybody pay attention." Then she added, "You're all going to be wonderful contestants, and I know you'll be a credit to the deputies you represent. Etta Mae, it's all yours." And Hazel Marie took a seat.

Miss Wiggins stood, and I, wanting to sneak out to the kitchen, started to, as well. But as she announced her intentions, I sank back down, deciding to stay for the show.

"What we're going to do first," Miss Wiggins announced, "is get some idea of how you present yourselves. That way, we'll know how much practice you'll need. Now, if you'll help me move these chairs out of the way, we'll make a runway from here through that door into the dining room. When you get to the table, turn around and walk back."

Well, I thought, she could've at least had the courtesy to ask my permission before she started rearranging my house, but the five young women who sat in a clump eagerly started in. They jumped up and, with a lot of laughing and talking, made a makeshift runway the length of the living room and half the dining room. Miss Knowles stood up and moved her chair, but kept herself apart from the others. Or they kept themselves apart from her.

"Hazel Marie," Miss Wiggins said, "if you'll stand at this end, I'll stand by the table. That way, we can see each girl walk and turn. Everybody line up now, and I want you to walk and smile like you're going to do for the judges."

Heather Peavey laughed nervously and said, "I'm used to having referees watch me, but this is a little out of my league."

"Oh, you'll do fine," Melanie Easley said, tossing her hair. "There's nothing to it. I was on the homecoming court, and all you do is smile and look good. And try not to trip."

"All right, girls," Miss Wiggins said. "Listen up, now. You're going to learn the right way to walk when you're presenting yourself to the judges and the audience. It's been tested and approved by all the major pageants, because it shows your figure and poise better than any other way. So let's get started."

Ashley Knowles edged to the back of the line.

"I'll go first," Tasha McKenzie said. "Then you'll all know what to do."

"Go ahead, then," Miss Wiggins said, none too graciously.

And she did, bouncing along with the most unusual gait I'd ever seen. She walked as if she had springs on her feet, bouncing up and down in a stilted and unnatural way, with her hips swiveling enough to throw them out of joint. When she got to the table, she stopped, swung herself from one side to the other with her legs spraddled out, then made a swift turn with her head high in the air and an aloof expression on her face.

During this unlikely display, I noticed the other girls putting their heads together. One of them murmured, "Have we got to do that?" With worried frowns, they watched as Miss McKenzie bounced back to stand in front of Hazel Marie, did another turn, and flashed a confident smile, thoroughly pleased with her performance.

"See?" she said. "It's easy once you get the hang of it. All you have to do is work it."

"Well, I don't know," Hazel Marie said with a worried frown. "What do you think, Etta Mae?"

"That may be the way models do it," Miss Wiggins said, "but for a pageant, it's all wrong. You'll look ridiculous swinging yourself around like you're wearing Calvin Klein."

My eyes widened at Miss Wiggins's tone, but Tasha tossed her hair. She set her mouth in a thin line of displeasure, and muttered, "I know what I'm doing, even if nobody else does."

"Okay, now," Miss Wiggins said, taking charge again. "I'm going to show you how it should be done. Watch."

She squared her shoulders and, to my consternation, jutted out her bosom. Then she turned her head and shoulders toward the girls, put a wide smile on her face, and began to walk with a scissoring movement of her jeans-clad legs, her arms swinging from side to side. The remarkable thing about it was that from the waist up, except for her arms, not a single muscle moved. Even though she was striding swiftly across the room, the profile of her bosom stayed locked in the most advantageous position for viewing from the judges' table.

"Now," she said, as she stopped. "You end with one foot in front of the other so you can keep your balance and pivot smoothly. There's no need to take an extra step on the turn." She demonstrated a stumble-free about-face. "Then you walk back, always keeping your face and shoulders turned toward the audience. Who wants to try it first?"

Well, I was impressed. Miss Wiggins had managed to exhibit a tightly controlled pace and an error-free turn without missing a step or losing her bright smile. I do admit, though, that the performance seemed on the stiff side to me, and quite unnatural. I mean, who walked around the mall like that? But I could see the reasoning behind it, which was to show a woman's assets in their best light.

"That looked good," Heather Peavey said with a troubled frown. "I just don't know if I can do it."

"Sure you can," Etta Mae told her. "Come on, somebody. Let's see you try."

"I will." Melanie Easley jumped up and stood by Etta Mae. "Get me started."

As Etta Mae pushed on her back to make her straighten her shoulders, I noticed with some satisfaction that Miss Easley had eschewed shorts for a pair of cropped pants. Or as they were once known, pedal pushers.

The next several minutes were taken up with tryouts of the pageant walk, accompanied by too many squeals and too much laughter for my strung-out nerves. Hazel Marie tried to remind them of the seriousness of getting it right so they could move on to other things, but still some couldn't get the hang of a smooth walk and turn.

Miss Peavey, for one, always started with correct posture, but by the time she got to the turn, she was slouching with her knees athletically bent.

Miss Vice Squad, Bethany LaVane, started that thigh-swishing gait in good form. But then she walked right out of her clogs and sprawled on the floor. Etta Mae was immediately at her side, helping her up and assuring her that she wasn't hurt.

"This is a good example for all of us," Etta Mae said, turning to the group. "You'll need to practice in high heels every day. If you're not used to them, you might can get away with mid-highs."

Tasha McKenzie couldn't let that pass. "Three-and-a-half-inch heels make your legs look better. That's what I'm planning to wear."

"Yeah, and you're likely to bust it on the runway," Etta Mae said, which wasn't the most elegant way of expressing it, but she got the point across. "We want a uniform look to all of you. You can express your individuality by the color and design of your outfits. Now, Tasha, let's see you try it again."

Having taken in everything, Miss McKenzie proved an apt pupil, but she didn't like it. If Miss Wiggins took her eyes off her for one minute, Tasha broke into her former stilted gait.

"Tasha," Etta Mae said at one point, "it's got to be smooth and even, with your bottom tucked in. Don't bounce and swivel your hips like that. Just do like I showed you."

Miss McKenzie tossed her head, even though her sprayed-stiff hair didn't budge. "I think you're wrong. This walk you want us to do is outdated, and if it was up to me, I'd do it the correct way. The professional way."

Miss Wiggins stalked right up to her. "It's not up to you."

That quieted everybody down, as they looked from one to the other. As for me, I was pleased to witness the firmness Miss Wiggins exhibited in putting Miss McKenzie in her place. She probably got it from dealing with cranky old people.

With a glowering frown, Tasha mumbled, "I didn't say I wouldn't, did I?"

With that display of temperament, I decided it was time I left them to it. I edged toward the kitchen, but Hazel Marie, probably wanting a diversion, stopped me before I got to the door.

"Miss Julia, before you go, do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Not a thing, I thought, but for her sake, I managed to come up with a few encouraging words. "Well, I think it's important that each and every one of you present yourselves as well-bred young ladies. When you are in the public eye, you should make sure that you sit modestly, walk gracefully, speak softly, dress tastefully, and not chew gum. Above all," I said, as six blank faces looked at me, a few knees gradually came together, and Miss LaVane swallowed hard, "remember that, regardless of how attractive the outside is, it's one's inner beauty that counts. Now, I expect you're ready for a break, so I'll see what we have in the kitchen."

With that, I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, but not before noticing a little eye-rolling from one or two of the contestants. What I'd told them was undoubtedly nothing they'd not heard before. But if they'd taken heed to begin with, I wouldn't have had to repeat it.

I'd barely gotten the refrigerator door open to get out the lemonade pitcher, when Little Lloyd crept down the back stairs.

"I thought you were in bed."

"No'm, homework made me hungry." He grinned at me. "And I wanted to see the beauty queens."

"Then you can help me take those cookies to them." I pointed to the covered plate Lillian had left on the counter. "Grab a handful of napkins, and I'll put some glasses on a tray. We'll set them on the dining room table and they can help themselves."

When he and I walked into the dining room, laden with refreshments, the Misses LaVane, Peavey, and Easley immediately stopped practicing and swarmed around us. I thought it was Lillian's cookies that had drawn them, and they didn't hesitate to partake of them, but it was Little Lloyd they were most interested in.

"Oh, you're so cute," Miss Easley said, sidling up to him in a friendly manner. "Where do you go to school?"

"You gonna be our talent coach?" Miss Peavey asked. "I bet you'd make a good one."

"Look at that hair," Miss LaVane marveled. "It's so fine and soft." And to prove it, she was bold enough to run her hand across his head.

Little Lloyd blushed and stammered and ducked his head, overcome by the attention. He wasn't accustomed to being made over and flirted with and cooed at. But he liked it, I could tell. Though Lord knows why they were doing it, for the boy was no poster child. I could still see too much of his daddy in him.

"They need to get on with their practice," I said, guiding Little Lloyd back into the kitchen and letting the door close behind us. "Here, I've saved some cookies for us."

He sat down, but his eyes were on the door. "They sure are pretty. No wonder they're beauty queens."

"Pretty is as pretty does," I said, worried that their teasing had turned his head. He was much too young to be noticing girls.

A burst of laughter from the front room made us swivel our heads toward it. Little Lloyd got up, saying he wanted to see what they were doing. He crept up to the door and cracked it so he could peer out without being seen.

A heavy thump was the next thing we heard, and the child turned to me, his eyes big and his mouth open. "One of 'em fell!" Then he hunched over to peer out again. "She's all right. They're all laughing." He continued to watch, while I sat at the table wondering if he should be watching such sights from a concealed place. He turned to me again. "I can't wait to see them on the stage. You know, in their evening gowns and bathing suits."

"You've seen enough already," I said, rising from my chair. "It's time you were in bed."

Chapter 15.

After getting the child off to bed and hearing the bustle of leave-taking, I wandered back into the living room. The young women were gathering their things while Miss Wiggins kept up a barrage of last-minute instructions and directions.

I'm not sure how much they heard, for they were talking excitedly among themselves. All except Ashley Knowles, who kept her distance, and Tasha McKenzie, who flounced toward the door without a good-bye, thank you, ma'am, or kiss my foot.

"Hazel Marie," I whispered, drawing her aside, "I take back all my hesitancies where Miss Wiggins is concerned. You are fortunate to have her. Just keep her away from me."

"Girls!" Miss Wiggins called over their chatter. "Next time, I'll expect everybody to have their walk down pat, so be sure to practice. We'll be taking up fashion tips and beauty products, especially your stage makeup. Okay, everybody, that's enough for tonight. Hazel Marie, you have anything else?"

"Just that I think we've had a good rehearsal. You all know what to be working on, and I want you to begin thinking about your various outfits. Oh, and what you're going to do in the talent category." Hazel Marie giggled. "Can't forget that, can we? Anyway, we'll discuss that next time. And, one other thing," she went on, "we're starting the advertising tomorrow, which means the pageant will be on us before we know it. So be sure and talk it up. We want a full auditorium with all your families and friends."

It was with more than a little relief that I wished them all a good night and closed the door behind the last of them, except one.

"Oh, Etta Mae," Hazel Marie said, turning to her, "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're helping me. I was about at my wit's end, but you really know how to handle them."

"Yes," I said, handing Miss Wiggins her jacket, "they need a firm hand, and you certainly have that." Then, thinking I'd sounded less than gracious, even though I'd meant it as an expression of praise, I added, "My compliments, Miss Wiggins, especially for coming to Hazel Marie's rescue."

"Thanks, but you can call me Etta Mae," she murmured in case I'd forgotten. "If you want to."

After repositioning the chairs in the living room, Hazel Marie and I collapsed, side by side, on the sofa. Hazel Marie looked as done in as I felt.

"I hope we haven't bitten off more than we can chew," she said. "I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't this. And I didn't know we'd have to put up with a know-it-all like that McKenzie girl."

"She's a handful, all right. But the Knowles girl, Hazel Marie. What's her problem? I don't think she said a word all evening. And did you see that thing stuck in her nose? I won't even mention Miss LaVane's navel."

"Body piercing's all the rage now," Hazel Marie said. "But that's not what worries me. They can take out the studs and the rings, but if any of them have tattoos, they're stuck with them."

"Stuck? Needles? Don't even talk about that." I squirmed in my seat.

"We could've used a little more help," Hazel Marie said, giving me a sidelong glance. "I wish you'd been more outspoken."

"Well, Lord, Hazel Marie. I've rarely been told that. Besides, you know I don't have the time nor the aptitude for this sort of thing." I stopped and plucked at my dress skirt. "I have a lot on my mind right now. It's awfully hard to put a beauty pageant in the forefront of my thinking when I don't even know who or what I am."

"I know." Hazel Marie patted my hand. "And I appreciate what you're doing. Has Sam found out anything?"

"No, and you'd think he'd be anxious to get this matter resolved, what with being put out to pasture, as he calls it. I'm beginning to think that our room separation suits him just fine."