Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 11 (3 page)

She moved aside to allow a young couple to squeeze past her. "Todd and Taylor Peel? Well, then, it looks as if we're all present and accounted for. Did all of us place our complimentary C'Mon Tours duffel bags in the luggage compartment at the rear of the van? We wouldn't want to find ourselves in Tupelo without our toothbrushes, would we?"

Rather than solicit responses, she beamed at the pilgrims as if they might arrive at the Holy Land sooner or later. "I do so hope you'll appreciate the spirituality of your journey. You have this marvelous opportunity to explore the complexity of Elvis's impact on contemporary culture, his contribution not only to rhythm and blues but also the dawning of rock and -- "

"I thought we were supposed to have an escort," Estelle said sullenly. "It seems to me all we have is a driver."

Miss Vetchling's smile slipped but did not fail her. "You weren't planning to walk to Memphis, were you?"

Before anyone could offer an argument, she stepped down and slammed the door of the van. Baggins winked at Estelle in the rearview mirror, turned on the ignition, and coaxed the van into a somewhat jerky departure. Miss Vetchling was waving jauntily as they went around the corner and up Thurber Street.

Ten minutes later they were on the highway that would take them through the mountains to the interstate, which in turn would take them across the state in five hours or so to their first goal: Memphis. The next day they'd drive a hundred miles in a southeasterly direction to Tupelo, Mississippi. Their final destination, the casino in a town south of Tunica, wasn't more than thirty miles south of Memphis, but the shortest route from Tupelo went through towns that prided themselves on perpetual road construction.

Estelle glanced at Ruby Bee, who looked as anxious as a preacher at the Pearly Gates. "Is something wrong?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," Ruby Bee said, resting her head against the window.

"Does anybody
really
care if I have a cigarette?" asked the woman identified thus far only as Ms. Zimmerman.

"I most vigorously object," said the married woman seated behind Ruby Bee and Estelle. "Aren't you aware of the dangers of secondhand smoke?"

"I'll put you on the side of the road if you light up," said Baggins. "Miss Vetchling told you the rules before we left."

"Bunch of crap," muttered Ms. Zimmerman.

Baggins stiffened. "Mind your tongue, missy."

This was not the most promising beginning, Estelle thought, as she watched cheap motels, gas stations, and used-car lots fly by. She chewed on her lip for a moment, then decided to take matters in her own hands and do what it took to make this a "marvelous opportunity." If nothing else, they were all stuck with each other for the next four days.

"Listen up," she said in the perky voice she imagined an escort would use. "Let's all introduce ourselves and say why we came on this trip. I'm Estelle Oppers from Maggody. I'm a licensed cosmetologist and a lifelong Elvis fan. I almost cried my eyes out when he died back in August of nineteen seventy-seven. I remember just like it was yesterday where I was when I heard the news. I was giving Elsie McMay a permanent when my second cousin Charlaine in Magnolia called to tell me. Charlaine was always real thoughtful about passing along things of that nature."

When no one else jumped in, she took a breath and went on. "My friend here is Rubella Belinda Hanks, but you can call her Ruby Bee. She owns a bar and grill in Maggody and makes the fluffiest buttermilk biscuits west of the Mississippi. She was saying just the other day how she remembered when Elvis first appeared on
The Ed Sullivan Show
. I ain't sure any of the rest of you are that old."

"Estelle!" said Ruby Bee. "There's no call to -- "

"So let's move on to you," Estelle said, pointing at the woman with curly brown hair, scarlet fingernails, and a thick slathering of pancake makeup. "Tell us all about yourself, honey."

"My name's Cherri Lucinda Crate, and I just love Elvis. I don't want y'all to think I'm some kind of crackpot, but I'm not convinced he's dead. My niece's roommate's boss is positive she saw him in a record store in Minneapolis last fall. She got right smack next to him and -- "

"That's ridiculous," said the man in the back. "I'm an expert in the field, and I can assure you that the King is dead. All these conspiracy theories about falsified autopsies and empty coffins are hogwash."

Cherri Lucinda twisted around in her seat. "Who says you're an expert?"

"I do."

She looked at the others for support. "I want to know what makes him such a know-it-all. Like he has a degree in Elvis or something? I happen to know plenty myself. I can tell you the exact day Priscilla arrived in Germany -- and what she was wearing when she stepped off the airplane. I can recite Gladys's genealogy back four generations. Just when did the angels come down and anoint this fellow?"

Estelle agreed that this was an interesting question, so she nodded regally at the man in the hat. "Mebbe you should tell us."

"My name is Rex Malanac, and I'm a professor of twentieth-century European literature at Farber College."

Cherri Lucinda cackled. "I told you he didn't have a degree in Elvisology or whatever you call it. All I can say is he'd better not start lecturing us like we're a bunch of snot-nosed college kids. I paid too much money to be bored to tears from here to Tupelo and back."

"I am also a scholar of popular culture," Rex said in a steely voice. "I have presented more than two dozen papers on the impact of Elvis on contemporary social values. I am considered one of the leading authorities in the field."

"Why doncha take a hike across that one?" said Cherri Lucinda as she pointed out the window at an expanse of stubble. "You'll be right at home with all the bullshit in the weeds."

This was not going as Estelle had planned. She cleared her throat and looked at the would-be smoker, who had frizzy blond hair and even more makeup than her companion. "I'm sure we all have something to contribute. What about you?"

"I'm Stormy Zimmerman, and I don't have a blessed thing to contribute. I just decided to come along at the last minute. All I know about Elvis is that he died the same year my brother did. My mother made me sing 'Love Me Tender' at the funeral. I've hated that song ever since."

"That's so sad," said Cherri Lucinda. She pulled a tissue from her purse and carefully blotted the corners of her eyes. "How come you never told me?"

"You never asked." Stormy looked up at Estelle. "Will you please get on with this stupid party game?"

Estelle had been feeling sorry for the gal up until that point. "We're not exactly in a rush, are we? What is it you do for a living?"

"Cherri Lucinda and I are entertainers. What else do you want to know? My ma was an alcoholic and my pa took off when I was ten. I married a truck driver when I was seventeen, but he turned out to be a real bastard and I got divorced two years later. Before I moved to Farberville last fall, I worked in Bossier City. Oh, and I have a butterfly tattooed on my butt."

"Oh, really?" said Rex. "I'm a bit of an amateur lepidopterologist. Ten dollars says I can identify the particular species. I'll give you two-to-one odds."

"In your dreams -- or your worst nightmare," she shot back, her hair obscuring her eyes but not her scowl.

Estelle tried again. "How about you two?" she asked the couple in the third seat. "You're married, aren't you?"

The purported husband stared at his purported wife, then slumped down in the seat, exhaled loudly, and closed his eyes. His neck was as thick as a ham and his bulk took up a good deal of the space. His round head and close-set features reminded Estelle of a bowling ball just waiting to be rolled down an alley. The woman, in contrast, was trim, with short, sensible dark hair, a clear complexion, and wire-rimmed glasses that gave her a sober look.

"I'm Taylor," she said, "and this is Todd. I wrote on the form that we're married, but that's not exactly true. We're supposed to have a big wedding this summer in a church in Little Rock, with five hundred guests and a dinner dance at a country club after the ceremony. Todd's mother has been handling all the preparations, since we're both students at Farber College." She looked over her shoulder at Rex. "Todd's third-year law, and I'm a business major, so I guess we've never taken any classes from you."

He shrugged. "One of the prerequisites for my classes is the ability to read and write. From what I've heard, neither is required in your respective fields."

Estelle doubted she could persuade the driver to stop long enough to chuck the smarmy professor off the van. "This wedding sounds real lovely," she said to Taylor.

"I got married in a courthouse," said Stormy. "Afterward, we had a dinner dance at a truck stop just outside Texarkana. The orchestra canceled at the last minute, so we had to feed quarters in the jukebox all night long."

"Yeah, real lovely," Todd said suddenly, opening one eye. "So what the hell are we doing on this shitty van?"

Now it was Taylor's turn to pull out a tissue and dab her eyes. "The thing is," she said in a quavering voice, "my parents were killed in a car wreck when I was a baby. My grandparents, who raised me, died last summer. They left a sizable estate, but there have been problems with probate and until the court sorts them out, I'm virtually penniless. I had to borrow money from the bank to cover tuition this year."

"Give me a break," said Baggins, bearing down on a lump of roadkill in the middle of the lane. "You want to stop at one of these junk shops and buy a violin?"

Estelle glowered at the back of his head. "One more word out of you and I'll call your boss at the first rest stop. Please go on, Taylor -- we're all just as interested as we can be."

Taylor blinked earnestly. "It's customary for the bride's family to pay for the wedding and reception. As things are right now, I couldn't afford five hundred hamburgers, much less lobster and steak. Todd's mother insisted that she and Todd's father would pay for everything, but I'm not one to accept charity. I guess you could say we're eloping. I've made arrangements for us to get married in the chapel next to Elvis's birthplace. All of you are invited."

Todd rumbled like a backhoe on a steep incline. "My mother is gonna have a stroke when she finds out. She's already booked the club and the caterers, and is expecting to have an engagement party during spring break."

"She'll survive," Taylor said. "She can use all the money she saves to treat herself to a month at one of those incredibly expensive spas. The pedicurists and masseuses will adore hearing her complain about our treachery."

"I'll hear it for the rest of my life. We've been over this a thousand times. My mother got carried away with her plans, but we don't have to go along with everything. She can cut back on the guest list, and if we get married in the morning, we can do the cake-and-punch thing at the church."

Rex leaned forward and said, "Why don't you invite her to meet us in Tupelo? She can be your flower girl."

"Shut up," snarled Todd, his face turning so red that he, rather than his mother, appeared in imminent danger of a stroke. "Leave my mother out of this -- okay?"

Taylor elbowed him hard enough to elicit a grunt. "Why don't you go back to sleep, Todd? You'll feel better when we get to Memphis, and we can have a blast on Beale Street tonight."

"We might as well, 'cause all hell's gonna break loose when we call my mother and tell her we're on a really glamorous honeymoon in friggin' Tupelo. Who wouldn't rather be there than in Hawaii? I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Well, then," Estelle said, abandoning any perkiness, "I guess that's it. I think we should all agree to have a fine time."

Cherri Lucinda flicked Baggins's shoulder with one of her talons. "What about you, Mr. Escort? You a big Elvis fan?"

"He's more likely to be a convicted felon," drawled Rex.

The van went into a gut-wrenching swerve before it squealed to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. The driver of the pickup behind them yelled an obscenity as he went past, and his gesture was far from salutary.

Baggins cut off the engine and swiveled around in his seat. "I ain't taking that kind of shit from anybody, sir. I may not have a college degree, but I've been driving for a good forty years. If you got a problem with me, let's step outside and settle it right now."

Cherri Lucinda held up her hands. "Hey, I was just making conversation. There's no reason for everybody to get all hot and bothered, especially with so many miles in front of us. Mr. Malanac, you owe this man an apology. He's a working stiff like the rest of us."

"That's right," said Estelle. She was hoping Ruby Bee and the others would jump in, but everybody was pretending to be more interested in the chicken trucks grinding past. It was right cowardly of them, Estelle thought, and of Ruby Bee in particular. College students and entertainers might not know how to face down bullies, but barkeepers sure did.

She was about to say as much when she noticed Ruby Bee was giving Cherri Lucinda a downright bumfuzzled look, and to make things even more peculiar, Cherri Lucinda was looking toward the back of the van with the exact same expression.

"I apologize," Rex said grandly. "Please drive on."

Once they were back on their way to the interstate, Estelle nudged Ruby Bee and in a low voice, said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I wish you'd stop pestering me, Estelle. There's not a single thing wrong -- okay? If you ask one more time, I swear I'll get off this van at the first stop and hitchhike home."

"Who's gonna stop for a middle-aged woman carrying a green-and-orange duffel bag? You'd look like a fugitive from a health club."

Estelle thought she was being funny, but it was clear from Ruby Bee's snort that she didn't have the same opinion. There wasn't much to do but sit back and keep her fingers crossed that they'd survive for the next four days without bloodshed.

"Hey, Arly," Kevin said as he came into the PD, "have you seen Dahlia?"