Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 11 (23 page)

"Because of what?"

"Snow," he said, then mentally kicked himself for getting himself in deeper in something a whole lot less odorless than snow. "They were worried that we might have a blizzard and everybody'd be trapped for days on end. It turns out they were wrong, of course, since we haven't seen a single flake. However, they had to be cautious on account of Hot Springs being remote like it is. I was too scared to risk driving back over the mountains, so I decided to come over here and wait until the weather boys said it was safe to go home."

Brother Verber gave him a look of profound disappointment. "Brother Jim Bob, you're only foolin' yourself if you continue to deny you took a detour on the highway to heaven. The Lord will forgive you this one time if you'll get down on your knees and beg for mercy. I have to say, though, He's losing patience with you. Even the most goodhearted shepherd gets weary of going out into the night to hunt for a strayed lamb. One of these days you're gonna reach out for Sister Barbara and she won't be there."

"She won't?" Jim Bob asked curiously. "Where's she gonna be?"

"Making sure the electric chair's plugged in," Mrs. Jim Bob said without hesitation. "After they've fried you to a crisp, don't think you'll be issued a halo and a harp. Fornication is a sin that's a sight more serious than sipping whiskey on the Sabbath or diddling with the supermarket accounts."

"Fornication?" Jim Bob said, slapping his hand across his chest. "I'd never do something like that. You know what, Brother Verber? Even though I know I'm pure of such wickedness, I would like to get down on my knees and repent right this minute, just because I may have -- for no more than a few seconds -- harbored lust in my heart while gazing at a sweet young thing when she was buying a candy bar at the checkout counter. I got to admit that sometimes the flesh is weak. Satan starts hissing in my ear, and my thoughts stray into the garden of forbidden fruit."

"Praise the Lord" Brother Verber said, wiping his eyes as if they were blinded with tears of joy (which they weren't, but most likely should have been if he'd been paying proper attention instead of musing about fried catfish, hush puppies, and green tomato relish for supper). "Did you hear that, Sister Barbara? This particular sinner is gonna bare his soul and come back into the flock. I think we have a miracle in the making?"

Jim Bob looked up with an embarrassed grin. "It's just that I need to allow my bowels to purge themselves of the vestiges of overindulgence. It won't take but a few minutes. Could you be kind enough to ask Japonica to let me go to the restroom?"

Mrs. Jim Bob glared but held her peace, since she wasn't quite sure what-all was going on in his head. Salvation wasn't likely to be on the top of his list; she'd been dragging him to church for years and hadn't seen any improvement to date. Then again, he'd never gotten himself locked in a cell for murder. It could be that he was finally beginning to see the light, or at least the folly of his sinful behavior.

Japonica came down the short hall and unlocked the cell. "You two want to sit down in the front room while you wait?"

Jim Bob was rubbing his hands as he came out of the cell. "Ain't that a thoughtful suggestion on Japonica's part? Due to all the stress, I may need a few minutes. Take a breather and think of some more of those soul-stirring hymns, Brother Verber. It's all I can do to stop from breaking out in song right this minute. Japonica, my angel of compassion, I hope you'll join us in prayer before the evening is over."

"You bet," she said as they all trooped out to the office. Mrs. Jim Bob and Brother Verber stepped into a corner to discuss this unanticipated turn of events as Jim Bob went into the washroom. He locked the door, turned on the tap, and assessed the possibilities. The window was high, and not more than two feet square. There might be garbage cans filled with rats on the other side of the wall. The lavatory looked like it might be wobbly. It wouldn't be easy.

Estelle was seated on a stool in front of a slot machine, a cup of nickels in her lap. Even though she had a good view of the crowd streaming through the casino, the noise was enough to drive her crazy, what with the machines around her dinging and ringing every time they spewed out a few coins. Folks who should have known better were shrieking, barging between the rows of machines, slopping drinks on each other, and smoking so many cigarettes that the air was thick enough to choke the cud right out of a cow.

Taylor sat down on the next stool. "Having any luck?"

Estelle stuffed a nickel in the slot and pushed a button. When nothing much happened, she said, "Not hardly. Are you here by yourself?"

"Are you asking if Todd came back? No, he didn't. I spent most of the day in our room, staring at the door and trying to decide what to say when he appeared. I went down to the restaurant several times, and walked around in here. I even went to the sixth floor and stood outside every door to listen for his voice. Not only has Todd vanished, but so have all of his old friends who were in the bar last night. I'm really starting to worry about him. Maybe he really was coming down with the flu or pneumonia or something like that. Could he have been taken to a hospital?"

Estelle dug through her purse and found a clean tissue. "Here," she said, handing it to Taylor. "If he's sick, someone would have called you. After all, you're his fiancee."

"Or was, anyway," she said glumly. "Does Maggody have a home for unwed mothers?"

"Now, Taylor, it's gonna be just fine. When he shows up, you can remind him of his responsibility to you and the baby. If he's scared of upsetting his mama, you and him can go down to Little Rock and have a cozy family wedding."

She blotted her nose. "I guess I'll go upstairs and see if he's there. The way things are going, I won't be surprised if his duffel bag is gone. This is all so Victorian, if you know what I mean. Here I am, a penniless orphan, pregnant with the young master's child, abandoned at the altar -- "

"Oh dear!" said Estelle, turning back to the slot machine. "Don't look, but the security man is heading this way." She thrust the cup at Taylor. "Grab some nickels and start playing like you believe you're about to win a million dollars."

Estelle fed nickels into the machine for several minutes, all the while waiting to feel a hand clamp down on her shoulder and a cold voice to order her to leave the premises. She finally risked a quick look over her shoulder. Mackenzie must have missed her and moved on, she concluded, allowing her hand to drop. However, she didn't know in what direction he'd gone. If he was wandering around the casino, sooner or later he'd notice her, especially if she was doing the same thing in hopes of spotting the bald man.

"Why do people do this?" asked Taylor as she put a coin in the slot. "It's about as exciting as picking beetles out of a sack of cornmeal."

"You can stop. Go on upstairs, then come back if Todd ain't there. We can go to the show and distract ourselves from our worries. El Vez is supposed to be something. We'll just let ourselves go and pretend we're seeing the real thing in person, except for Elvis being dead and this impersonator being from Mexico. Other than that, it ought to be entertaining."

Taylor slid off the stool. "I'm not in the mood. I think I'll take one more tour around the casino, then go upstairs and pray that Todd shows up with a reasonably acceptable excuse. If I get bored, I can throw up. I do that a lot these days."

"There's no reason to ... " Estelle said, then stopped and tried her level best not to gawk. "Just go on to your room. Odds are Todd will be sound asleep in your bed, and by tomorrow, everything will be back the way it was."

Taylor grimaced and headed for the door that led back into the lobby of the hotel. Estelle automatically put nickels into the slot, ignoring the occasional clatter of coins in the tray, and tried not to stare as she watched Cherri Lucinda and the bald man settle down in leather chairs in the bar like they were bosom buddies.

She was still watching them when the machine erupted with dings, rings, flashing lights, sirens, and everything short of wild applause. That was provided by fellow gamblers.

Ruby Bee was still asleep. I tiptoed across her room, set the duffel bag on a shelf in the closet, then retreated out into the corridor. There was no reason to hang around; Ruby Bee was oblivious and Dr. Deweese was gone for the day. I could program a VCR with reasonable success, but I couldn't repair an ultrasound machine.

I was walking toward the door when a twentyish black woman in a green smock came trotting up behind me.

"Are you Arly?" she asked.

I admitted as much. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm Carlette, honey. Japonica called and said for you not to bother to come by the police department. She's gonna drive the folks back to the hotel herself."

"Why?"

"That's pretty much all she said. She didn't sound real happy about it, but she can be that way. She hates her job on account of the chief. He was obliged to hire her because of the affirmative-action thing. I suppose he does his best, but he acts like this is the nineteen fifties and gals like Japonica should be cleaning houses and sitting in the back of the bus. I look forward to the day he falls sick and has to stay here. There'll be some squabbling as to who gets to stick a needle in him."

"You have no idea why she's taking them to the hotel? She didn't mention anything else?"

Carlette shook her head. "That's all. Don't go worrying too much about your mama. I'll take real good care of her and let you know if she needs anything. Dr. Deweese is young, but he's smart."

"What does his wife do?" I asked ever so casually. "Is she a doctor, too?"

"He's divorced, but you'll have to get in line. Every unattached woman in the county is after him. Even though he's on the pale side, I could bring myself to pick up his dirty underwear and drink fancy wine if that's what it'd take. I was always a sucker for big blue eyes. Now you run along and get some sleep."

I had no idea why Japonica had offered to take Mrs. Jim Bob and Brother Verber to the hotel, but it didn't seem worth the energy to think about it. I drove back, parked, and walked hurriedly across the lobby, my fingers crossed that Mackenzie was occupied with mundane chores such as skimming profits or blackmailing politicians.

No one shrieked at me. I rode the elevator to the eighth floor and went straight to my room, not bothering to check on Estelle, or anyone else, for that matter. The Elvis Presley Pilgrimage had resulted in nothing but misery for all concerned. Stormy was dead, Ruby Bee was in the hospital, Jim Bob was in jail, Estelle was on Mackenzie's list of anarchists, an elopement had been foiled, and Mrs. Jim Bob and Brother Verber were both sleeping in close proximity to yours truly.

I had a key to the room, having found one on the dresser. I let myself in and sank down on the bed. A glass with a lipstick smudge suggested Cherri Lucinda had come and gone in the last hour. In that she hadn't been sobbing outside Jim Bob's cell, I presumed she'd found a replacement in the casino -- and, if the luck of the draw was with me, might remain with him for the remainder of the night.

I tossed my coat on a chair and was reaching for the remote control when someone knocked on the door. I dragged myself up and went to peer through the peephole. The man in the hallway stood far enough away for me to see the hotel logo embroidered on his shirt.

"Plumber," he said loudly.

Despite the fact he had thick brown hair, I put on the chain before I opened the door. "I didn't call."

"The trouble's on the ninth floor in the room directly above yours. A pipe broke and I need to make sure there's no water coming down the inside of the wall in your bathroom. I can wait if you want to call the desk."

"No," I said as I disengaged the chain and stepped back to open the door.

Wrong.

13

The door slammed into me. I staggered backward, fighting without success to keep my balance as pain ripped across my face and shoulder. I hit the floor with a thud. The man stepped over me as he came into the room and snapped the deadbolt. The sound was as loud as a gunshot. Bad sign.

"Where is it?" he said.

"It?"

"The bag." He dragged me onto the bed and looked around the room. "I ain't in the mood for a guessing game. Just give me the bag and live to tell your story in the morning."

"Help yourself," I said as I gingerly examined my nose. Blood was dripping freely, but the basic structure seemed to be intact. "Take the toothbrushes and plastic cups in the bathroom while you're at it. I only have twenty dollars in my purse, but you're welcome to every one of them. Need an extra pillow or blanket?"

"Shut up." He grabbed Cherri Lucinda's duffel bag and dumped its contents on the other bed. "Where's the other bag?"

In the tradition of Lady Macbeth, I pointed a bloody finger at my overnight bag. "It's yours for the asking. I'm sorry I didn't bring my red flannel pajamas or whatever it is you want so desperately."

"You got some nerve. Has it occurred to you that you might just be in a real bad situation? The last thing you need to be doing is making me mad, you know?" He emptied my bag on the floor, pawed through my underwear and shirts, then looked down at me. "I don't know why the fuck you think you can get away with this. You know who you're dealing with?"