Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 08 (25 page)

"A reporter."

"Yeah, and I'm a trailer park queen who believes everything I read in the Weekly Examiner and the Probe. Would you like me to take off my socks so you can see the taste buds between my toes?"

"Could we go somewhere and talk about all this?" he said, giving me a weak smile. "I'd better explain a few things."

"Like the government conspiracy and the aliens in some underground laboratory? The only place we're going to talk is the county jail, buster. I don't know what your part in all this is, but by damn you're -- "

He lunged at me and covered my mouth. "Sssh! I hear someone outside the door."

I'd have shot him if I hadn't heard it, too. Instead, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the bathroom. I was aware of his warmth as we tried to avoid tumbling into the bathtub or falling over each other. I allowed him to put his arm around my waist, even though I knew I'd be irritated with myself later if it turned out he was a murderer. I did jab him with my elbow when he tried to whisper in my ear. I have my limits.

I peeked around the door as the silhouette of a figure moved past the window and approached the table. I removed Jules's hand, took a breath, and stepped out as I'd done minutes earlier.

"Looking for something?" I drawled.

There was a snicker from the bathroom, but I ignored it and turned on my flashlight.

Lucy Fernclift recoiled so violently that she backed into a chair, lost her balance, and, with a yelp of surprise, disappeared behind the edge of the bed. I went across the room and waited until she extricated herself from the tangled mess of wires and cables. She was dressed like a proper burglar in a black sweater and trousers, but her makeup seemed excessive for the occasion.

Rubbing her head, she said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Holding a press conference, or so it seems," I said without sympathy. "What are you doing?"

She crawled onto the bed, still holding her head, and gave my question a great deal of thought. "I paid Brian for a file, but he never gave it to me. I saw someone coming in here. I was worried about my file."

"And cows sing," contributed a voice from the bathroom. "I'm in the moooood for love ... "

Lucy swung around. "Who's that?"

I was about to tell her when I heard a noise outside. "Go see for yourself," I growled as I yanked her up and shoved her toward the bathroom.

This time it was seriously crowded. There were more shoulders and elbows than seemed humanly possible, and someone managed to come down hard on my toes. The sink cut into my back, but the toilet blocked a retreat. Jules and Lucy may have showered before bed, but the bathroom was beginning to smell like a Junior high locker room.

The front door opened with a familiar creak. I pushed Lucy into Jules (or vice versa), stepped over a knee, and eased back into the front room. For the third time a figure was creeping toward the table.

I was fresh out of drawls. "What do you want?" I snapped as I turned on the flashlight.

The beam caught Hayden McMasterson in a paralytic crouch, although his outstretched hand was shaking pretty hard. He was wearing an ankle-length diaphanous robe with all sorts of cryptic symbols embroidered across his chest, an attire more appropriate for a hippie wedding than a midnight prowl.

"What are you doing here?" he asked weakly.

"I figured that one of you would hear the deputy leave and come creeping in here. Even though I got almost no sleep last night, I decided to wait to find out who it was and arrest him or her for murder. So that's what I'm doing here -- sacrificing my health to catch a murderer!"

He seemed startled by my outburst. "I'm really sorry, Chief Hanks. If you'd like, I can give you a body massage with a special herbal oil that my wife makes from -- "

"I would not," I said. This time there was so much snickering from the bathroom that it sounded as if squirrels were scampering up the tile walls. I was about to order them out when I heard a soft tap on the door.

"Jesus H.!" I muttered, then grabbed Hayden's ponytail. He was too busy wincing to ask any questions as I steered him into the bathroom. Jules climbed into the bathtub and held out his hand to Lucy, who joined him. Hayden mumbled unhappily as I ordered him to stand on the toilet.

"Who is it?" hissed Lucy.

I didn't bother to tell her I didn't know but instead eased open the bathroom door. Once the figure'd moved in front of the window, I turned on my flashlight. "Rosemary," I said wearily, "did you happen to notice anyone else heading this way?"

"Not really, but I did hear someone drive off just a moment ago."

It seemed to me that the entire cast was pretty much assembled. I was about to order the others out of the bathroom when I heard a creak outside the door. I hauled Rosemary into the bathroom and shoved her into the mass of bodies, then stuck my head out as far as I dared, expecting to see another silhouette.

The grunts and mutters behind me should have alerted this latest arrival that there was something peculiar going on in the bathroom. I stepped out and was about to repeat some surly variation of my question when I heard a snuffle from beyond the bed. It was as easy to identify as the pervasive stench.

"Oh, my gawd," I said as I slammed the door. I turned on the overhead light, sat down on the toilet, and buried my face in my hands.

Hayden clutched his crystal with one hand and the faucet with the other. "Who is it?"

"Marjorie," I said through my fingers, not caring if they heard me.

"Who's Marjorie?" asked Lucy. "Is that the name of the woman with the bright red hair?"

"Marjorie is Raz Buchanon's pedigreed sow," I explained numbly. "One of you forgot to close the door completely when you came inside. She must have nudged it open with her snout."

Lucy started to climb out of the bathtub. "Well, run her off and let's get out of here. This is so ridiculous I couldn't sell it to my editor."

I shifted to allow her to step onto the bathmat. "Go right ahead, but keep in mind that less than a year ago Marjorie chewed the leg off one of Perkins's goats. She tried to do the same to me, too."

"You're afraid of a pig?" Lucy said, laughing in a way I found particularly unendearing. "You grew up with them, didn't you?"

"I grew up with a healthy respect for them."

"So what are we supposed to do?" asked Rosemary.

I shrugged. "Wait until she decides to leave."

Lucy jabbed her finger at Rosemary. "You were the last one to come in tonight, so it's obvious you're the one who didn't close the door."

"All this negativity is making me nauseous," Hayden said.

"Moooonlight in Vermont," crooned Jules from the bathtub, utilizing a bar of soap as a microphone.

Outside the door the snuffles grew louder.

Kevin's hand shook so bad he could barely read the note his beloved had left for him. How could she think she was having Their baby? And why had They told her to go to the top of Cotter's Ridge? Kevin went into the living room and collapsed on the recliner, his head buzzing with confusion. One question kept repeating itself over and over till he wanted to scream: Who were "They"? His eyes filled with tears as he pictured her lost in the woods, falling down and fighting the brush, with leaves in her hair and her deliciously dimpled knees all bloody. She'd be at the mercy of the critters on the ridge. Even if he dint know exactly who "They" were, he knew plenty about bears and polecats. Was his lust goddess already nothing but a scattering of gnawed bones? Was her limp, lifeless hand stretched out toward him, like she'd hoped till the end that he would rescue her?

And he would. He leaped to his feet and tried to recall what he might have that would serve as a weapon. His pa made him keep his deer rifle in his bedroom closet at home. The hatchet was so dull it wouldn't slice Velveeta (Dahlia'd tried once). The bow and arrow set had been a birthday present when he was six. Critters weren't likely to skedaddle at the sight of the rubber tip.

He would have to defend his wife with his bare hands, he decided. Why, he'd punch and kick and claw while she climbed a tree, where she could see how courageous he was. Afterward she would wrap his wounds in strips torn from her petticoat, then cradle his face in her lap, allowing him to nuzzle her monstrously warm bosoms while she stroked his forehead.

Armed only with his imagination, Kevin marched out the door and into the night. When he was halfway across the yard, he remembered he'd forgotten to turn off the kitchen light and went back. Dahlia was real stern when it came to wasting electricity.

"You were trapped in the crapper all night?" Harve said, guffawing so loudly I had to hold the receiver away from my ear. "We should have sent the sow up the river when we had the chance!"

"It was not all night," I said. "An hour later Deputy Whitbread got nervous and came back to make sure I hadn't gotten myself killed. He saw the light in the bathroom and had the sense to investigate. I sent him to get Raz, who persuaded Marjorie to accompany him home."

"Why didn't you crawl out the window?"

"Because the window is the old-fashioned kind that only cranks out a few inches."

"What were their excuses for creeping into the room?"

"Each one of them swore he or she had seen someone and wanted to know who it was. I was voted the most likely culprit, which says a lot about my skills as a wily undercover cop. I guess I slept through that class at the academy. What'd you hear from the lab?"

"I just now got the preliminary report from McBeen," Harve said. "Near range with a twenty-two-caliber bullet, powder burns on the skin and on the pillow we found beside the bed. No gunpowder residue on either hand, which rules out suicide even if we'd found a weapon. No signs of a struggle either. Someone he knew came into the room and shot him while he was stretched out on the bed, all nice and comfortable. Otherwise, he'd at least have gotten up. McBeen sent the body on to the state lab, but he doesn't think they'll find anything more."

"Fingerprints?"

"Thicker than flies on a honey spill, and most of 'em too smudged to be of any use. The boys'll keep trying, but don't expect much; that kind of stuff only plays on television. I'll leave Les over there the rest of the day and send somebody else tonight, but we need to get this cleared up, Arly. This ain't the kind of publicity that'll do us any good, not even in an off election year."

"No kidding," I said, then hung up. The day was as dreary as my mood. Rain came down not with any drama but steadily and with no indication it was going to let up anytime soon. Low clouds blanketed the valley. The more prudent drivers were using their headlights.

I opened the telephone directory and was about to dial a number when the door opened and Jim Bob barged in.

"Have you seen my wife?" he demanded.

"Since when?"

"I don't keep track of where she is every minute of the day, fer chrissake. All I know is when I came home last night, she wasn't there, and she wasn't back this morning when I got up. I called over at the rectory, but Verber says he hasn't talked to her since after church. I called some of the biddies, too. No one has seen or heard from her since yesterday evening."

"Could she have gone to visit relatives? Are there suitcases missing?"

"No, there ain't any damn suitcases missing. I already called her aunt down in Eldorado and her tight-assed cousin over in Belvedeer, and both of 'em promised to call if she shows up. Besides, she would have left a note, no matter how pissed she was. She never misses a chance to spell out my so-called transgressions, right down to crossing the t's and dotting the i's."

"Are you sure?" I asked carefully. "Maybe you were out so late last night that she wanted to teach you a lesson."

He loomed over the desk, giving me a view of his gold fillings and reptilian tongue. "What do you know about last night?"

Not nearly as much as he thought I did, I realized. "I saw you leave Roy's around midnight."

"Yeah, that's about right," he said, his expression easing. "Just find my wife, okay? You don't have to be in any big rush about it, but make sure you find her sometime today. I don't relish fixing my own supper after a hard day at the store."

He left, slamming the door so hard the pages of the telephone directory fluttered. I wrote Mrs. Jim Bob's name on a piece of paper and drew a question mark next to it. That being all I could think to do, I pushed the paper aside and called the Farberville Police Department. After some wrangling from both sides, they agreed to bring a member of the canine corps by midafternoon -- if the rain stopped.

I flipped to the yellow pages and was about to make a call I should have made weeks earlier when the door once again opened. This time Eilene Buchanon barged in, although with more decorum than Jim Bob.

"Have you seen Kevin and Dahlia?" she asked as she struggled with her umbrella. "Kevin was supposed to help his pa tune up the tractor this morning, and Dahlia and I were going to the Kmart in Farberville to look for fabric for kitchen curtains. I called, but nobody answered, so I finally went over there half an hour ago. Kevin's supper from last night is still in the oven." She took a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. "I'm afraid they've been kidnapped."