Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 08 (16 page)

"How long was he gone?"

"Only a minute or two." She leaned over and put her hand on my arm. "Cynthia is the bravest woman I've ever met, and she is dedicated to the discovery of the truth. She personally investigated more than forty sightings last year, often unaccompanied and late at night."

"There were that many sightings in Arkansas last year?" I asked, surprised.

"Who knows how many there were? Not everyone is willing to risk being embarrassed and ridiculed by their neighbors, as well as by the media. I only allowed my story to be made public when Arthur convinced me I was helping other people with the same traumatic scars. Despite my shyness, I've lectured at many of the conferences and was once the after-dinner speaker. I was so nervous beforehand that I couldn't eat a bite."

I realized I wasn't having much success keeping her on the subject. "And the telephone never rang during the session?"

"I don't believe so, but my mind had blended into the narrative, and the images were flowing through me so rapidly that I could barely get them onto the paper. My fingers were so stiff this morning I could barely dial the telephone to let the membership know about Cynthia."

"When the session ended, did Dr. Sageman go to Dr. McMasterson's room?"

"Yes, while I combed Dahlia's hair and tidied her up as best I could. The session was difficult, and she was quite damp from tears and perspiration. Dr. Sageman returned to escort her to Dr. McMasterson's car. I made a little Joke and ... "

I glanced at her as she dribbled to a stop. Her mouth was open as if the next word were actually on the tip of her tongue, but her forehead was creased, and her eyes seemed unfocused. "And?" I said encouragingly.

"I'd planned to finish my sketches," she said with a shrug of her bony shoulders, "but Arthur was eager to see them and asked to take my notebook. I was preparing to take a shower when you knocked on the door with the news about poor Cynthia. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to meditate until we get to the hospital so I can fill Cynthia's room with curative energy."

There was no point in trying to converse with a woman who had wrapped her arms around her knees and was humming loudly through her nose. I was just relieved she didn't float out the window. I had enough problems as it was.

CHAPTER NINE

I left Rosemary sitting cross-legged and droning like a demented bumblebee in the ICU waiting room and entered Cynthia's curtained cubicle. She looked fragile, but her color was much better than I'd last seen it, and she turned her head as I came around the curtain. The tube taped to her nose and wires slinking out from beneath her gown were disconcerting, but green lines blipped across monitor screens with comforting regularity.

"Ms. Dodder," I said, "I need to ask you a few quick questions, if you feel up to it."

"All I feel is foolish. I've been waiting for forty years to see an alien, and when I did, I panicked and had a heart attack. I have no choice but to resign as president of UFORIA. I have disgraced the organization and the ETH movement as well as myself."

"I don't think you disgraced yourself. Ruby Bee and Estelle were absolutely terrified, too. It's a natural reaction to something so unexpected and menacing."

"I suppose so," she said without conviction. Her eyes closed, and her lips began to move, as if she were composing her letter of resignation.

"Did you hear anything after you parked and started down the path?" I asked. "A car door or maybe voices?" What I wanted was a description of insolent adolescent voices, but it didn't seem professional to prompt her -- unless she needed a little help.

"I heard nothing out of the ordinary until I arrived at the open area and saw the burn marks. They appeared to be similar to markings found in Arizona five years ago. I was trying to recall the particulars of that encounter when there was a sharp noise from across the creek. I looked up and saw the alien advancing across the surface of the water." Her hand rose unsteadily as if to ward off the memory, then fell back into the rumpled sheet. "I remember nothing else until I regained consciousness here. I shudder to think what would have happened had your mother and her friend not been there. It's possible I would be many light-years away from Earth by now and in the clutches of that horrible creature and his shipmates."

I managed a smile, told her Rosemary would be in to visit, and went back to the parking lot. It was Sunday; that meant the public library would be closed. The Thurber Farber Memorial Library on the campus would not be closed, however. I decided to drop the note off at the sheriff's department on my way back to Maggody and headed for the stacks to do some research, feeling sophomoric in both senses of the word.

"Dahlia!" Kevin said from the other side of the bathroom door. "Please come out of there, honeypot. You must have an awful crick in your neck from sleeping in the tub all night. I'm here to protect you from whatever it is that's upsettin' you. I'm your lawful wedded husband for better or worse."

He stopped, thinking it couldn't get much worse than this. It'd been half past midnight by the time he'd dragged home from the SuperSaver, all because Jim Bob had ordered him to wax the floors and the buffer'd gone loco and knocked down a ten-foot-high pyramid of paper towels. Then he'd found Dahlia locked in the bathroom, moaning and sobbing -- and refusing to explain why. The bed had been mighty cold and lonesome without his tawny temptress.

He had a flash of insight. "Is it female trouble? Do you want me to get my ma so you kin talk to her?"

"Go away."

"Are you sure I can't fix you some breakfast?" He persisted, his ear pressed so hard against the door he could hear her despair. "Or better still, I kin run down to Ruby Bee's and fetch a plate of biscuits and gravy, with a side order of ham."

"Go away, I said!"

Kevin was so bewildered that he went into the living room and flopped down on the recliner. His beloved bride had never passed up biscuits and gravy, even the time that she'd had stomach flu so bad she could hardly lift her head and had to be fed like a baby bird.

He finally called his ma to say that they wouldn't be comin' over for Sunday dinner. Eilene sighed, but she didn't say anything. Dahlia's outburst in the bar and grill had been repeated, with varying amounts of elaboration, all over town and most of the county. For all she knew, they were discussing it all the way up to Kansas City, Missouri. Some of the less perceptive men (her husband and her son being prime examples) might have missed hearing about it, but she wouldn't be surprised if it showed up in Brother Verber's sermon.

"What do you think those three are up to?" Ruby Bee whispered to Estelle, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the last booth.

"They are drinking coffee, Ruby Bee." Estelle didn't bother to look over her shoulder at Jim Bob Buchanon, Roy Stiver, and Larry Joe Lambertino. They'd been muttering at one another for the best part of an hour, and Ruby Bee'd been asking the same question most of that time. Estelle's answers had been fanciful at first, but eventually she was reduced to stating the obvious.

"Like I can't see that for myself, Mrs. Optometrist?" Ruby Bee picked up the coffeepot and headed for them, determined to worm something out of them. "Y'all ready for another warm-up?"

Their heads jerked up as if they'd been caught sneaking a smoke behind the gym. Jim Bob and Larry Joe were dressed for church, but Roy was in his overalls on account of claiming to be an agnostic (which, according to Eula Lemoy, was related to an Episcopalian).

Jim Bob put his hands over a piece of paper in the middle of the table. "We sure are," he said. Ruby Bee took her time replenishing their cups, all the while trying to get a peek at the paper. She even considering spilling some coffee on Jim Bob's hands so he'd move 'em real fast. "Is this a town council meeting?"

There was a moment of silence in which she could hear Larry Joe's gulp and a faint rumble from someone's stomach. Then Jim Bob said, "No, we have 'em on the first Tuesday of the month. We're talking about our deer camp."

"It's a long time till deer season," Ruby Bee said, making sure nobody missed the sarcasm. "More than six months, ain't it?"

Roy took a noisy slurp of coffee. "It sure is, but we're thinking about how to fix up the trailer so it won't be so all-fired cold next winter. I was just saying we needed to put in some new insulation."

"That's right," croaked Larry Joe as he started spooning sugar into his cup, his hand trembling so hard the crystals dusted the tabletop like an early frost. "You recall the commercials about that pink insulation that you can roll out and staple down? We were wondering how much it cost, and Jim Bob here was writing down some figures."

Jim Bob's hands stayed where they were. "But we don't want folks to know about our improvements, on account of they might vandalize the place out of spite. Folks can be awfully ornery when they're jealous, and deer season brings out the worst in 'em." His companions nodded.

"You can say that again," Ruby Bee said emphatically, then went back to the bar and replaced the coffeepot. "They're up to no good," she said to Estelle. "It's written plain as day all over their lying faces. I wish I could hear what they're saying."

"Maybe you ought to bug the booth. That way you could listen to all kinds of private conversations, go into the blackmail business, and make enough money to retire to Florida and play canasta with skinny bald men in Bermuda shorts. I wonder how much you could get from Moon Pie Buchanon not to tell his wife about him and Cloris? And how about -- "

"You have been watching too much television." Ruby Bee stalked into the kitchen to check the cobblers and make sure the cloverleaf rolls were rising.

Estelle was working on a comeback when the cute little dark-haired girl from the tabloid slipped onto the next stool and said, "I heard you saw an alien last night. Could I ask you a few questions about it?"

"Is this for the Probe?"

Lucy opened a notebook, then scrabbled around in her purse until she found a pencil. "We're doing a major spread on the recent events in Maggody. We probably won't say anything about the awful accident, though. Our readers don't like that kind of thing." She licked the tip of the pencil, wrote the date in neat round figures, and looked up with a smile just as sweet as cotton candy. "Are you sure you actually saw this so-called alien? Couldn't it have been an ordinary person dressed in a suit, with moonlight hitting the fabric?"

"It could have been," Estelle said, offended by the cynicism in the girl's voice, "but it wasn't -- unless this 'ordinary person' figured out how to walk on water and glow in the dark. If you don't mind me saying so, you have a funny attitude for someone who writes stories about singing cows and twenty-pound grasshoppers."

"You don't really believe it walked on water, do you?" Lucy's chuckle wasn't at all sweet. "Are you really that neurotic -- or is Dr. Sageman paying you to make up this nonsense?"

"I cannot believe my ears! Where do you get off accusing me of lying, young lady? There are plenty of folks all over the world who've seen flying saucers and aliens."

"And there are plenty of folks who hear cows sing and watch twenty-pound grasshoppers hop across their backyards! And do you know what they are? Wacko, that's what! Brian Quint is dead, just like -- " She covered her mouth with her hand, fumbled for her purse, and tried to slide off the stool.

Estelle caught her arm. "Just like who?" she demanded.

"What do you know about this murder, Miss Lucy Fernclift?"

"Nothing!"

"Were you talking to Brian Quint in Raz Buchanon's barn the other night?" persisted Estelle, spitting out the words. She would have felt guilty about badgering the girl, but she was still seething over being characterized as a run-of-the-mill wacko. "Ruby Bee and I overheard the two of you. We were crouched behind a bale of hay, but we could hear every last word."

"You let go of me!"

"Estelle!" Ruby Bee gasped from the doorway. "What in tarnation's goin' on?"

Lucy stopped struggling and let her purse fall to the floor. Her face was flaming, but she didn't turn all teary or act like she was indignant and ready to file charges. Instead, she studied the surface of the bar for such a long time Estelle was tempted to nudge her to make sure she was awake.

"How about some coffee?" Ruby Bee said in her kindliest voice. She made sure the threesome in the back booth were still huddled over the table, then poured a cup of coffee for Lucy and set it in front of her. "Would you like a cinnamon roll with that? I made them this morning."

"Why were you in the barn?" asked Lucy.

Estelle slid the sugar bowl and milk pitcher down the bar. "We thought we ought to keep an eye on certain folks," she said out of the corner of her mouth, the way the old-fashioned gumshoes did in the movies. "This is our town, after all, and we a aim to protect it."

Ruby Bee had to pinch herself to keep from sniggering.

"That's right," she added through tremulous lips. A little noise erupted, but she covered it with a fit of coughing.

Lucy added milk to her coffee and stirred it slowly. "Protect it from what?" she said at last. "Flying saucers and singing cows?"

Estelle, who was still in a snit, shot Ruby Bee a dark look, then turned and said, "Why did you offer Brian Quint a thousand dollars?"