Merry Wives of Maggody (27 page)

It proved to be an excellent choice.

• • •

Estelle had her elbows on the bar, her cupped hands holding her chin. She idly watched Ruby Bee, who was washing glasses in the sink and setting them on a towel to dry. The lunch crowd had gone except for the fellow in the back. She wondered if there was any reason to go find out about him, then decided that it wasn’t worth her while. She stirred her coffee. “You’re gonna have to tell her, Rubella Belinda Hanks,” she said for the umpteenth time.

“Mind your own business.” Ruby Bee set down the last glass and let the water drain out of the sink. “She’s better off not knowing.”

“She has a right to know,” Estelle persevered. “What if she decides to get a copy of her birth certificate? All you have to do is fill out a request form and send a check to Little Rock.” She waggled her finger at Ruby Bee. “Don’t pretend it couldn’t happen. She might want a passport so she can take a vacation in Mexico or Hawaii. Mark my words, sooner or later she’ll find out the truth.”

Ruby Bee began to wipe the surface of the bar as she mulled it over. “Now’s not the time,” she said at last. “She’s up to her neck with this murder investigation.”

“That’s exactly why it
is
the time.”

“I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

“At the beginning, that’s how,” Estelle said mercilessly. “You were nineteen, and it was your first time away from home…”

• • •

I was lost in a dream about hail-sized golf balls when the phone rang. I rubbed my eyes as I picked up the receiver. “PD,” I said, glancing at the ceiling in case I needed to take shelter under my desk. I knew the drill, having practiced once a month throughout elementary school. It was always disappointing when nothing happened.

“Chief Hanks?” said Amanda. “Am I disturbing you?”

“What’s the matter? Has Dennis come back?”

“No, and I’m worried. He’s been gone for more than four hours. I went to the bar, but nobody’s seen him.” Her voice thickened.

“What if he went up that mountain and broke his leg or sprained his ankle?”

Déjà vu all over again. First Natalie, and now Dennis. Clearly golfers had more difficulty than ducks when it came to keeping in a row. Then again, I’d never dealt with drunken ducks.

I looked out the window. The sky was once again steel gray, and the light had an eerie green tinge. A second storm was moving in. If there was more rain, the golf tournament would be delayed yet another day, and I’d be doomed to listening to lies and evasions until my brain trickled out my ears. “It’s too early to get alarmed, Amanda. Dennis may have been taken in by a church lady and is currently being subjected to tea and cookies. Sit tight and I’ll make some calls.”

“How can I when Dennis might be lost? He’s all I have. I don’t have any family, and I don’t have any close friends. Well, there is Jame, but I can’t get hold of him.”

“Jame?” I echoed.

“My hairstylist. He’s on a cruise with his partner. He’s very good, by the way. Remind me to give you his number. He could do miracles with your hair.”

“My hair doesn’t want to walk on water,” I said. “Give me fifteen minutes to see if I can locate Dennis. I’ll either call you back or come over there.”

I called all the wives and dowagers, with the exception of Mrs. Jim Bob, who was liable to be comatose. None of them claimed to have seen Dennis, although there was a remote possibility that one of them had locked him in her basement. (Grendal Buchanon had kept her sister in the root cellar for six months before anyone noticed, and another three months before the family called the sheriff’s department.)

I walked across the road to Roy’s antiques shop. In the back room, the tontine was having an official meeting that involved cards, poker and potato chips, beer, and overflowing ashtrays.

Larry Joe was asleep on a sofa, and Big Dick was snoring in a recliner.

“Has anyone seen Dennis Gilbert?” I asked from the doorway, unwilling to fight through the pungent haze.

My presence was not met with cordial smiles. Roy slapped down his cards and said, “In Proodle’s room, a while back. Not since then.”

Jim Bob raked in a mound of chips. “Does it look like we’re running a fuckin’ babysitting ser vice?”

“Has anyone seen him since Proodle’s party?” I demanded more loudly.

“He took off like a bat outta hell,” Tam said as he popped open a beer. “You aimin’ to deal anytime soon, Jeremiah? The cards are starting to grow moss.”

I went into the room and snatched the deck out of Jeremiah’s hand. “I want everybody’s attention. Did Dennis say anything before he left?”

“Don’t reckon he could have if he tried,” said Ruddy. “He was damn close to mewling like a baby. His eyes was full of tears. I figured he went outside to puke, which was fine with me. Whenever my dog pukes in the house, Cora makes me get on my hands and knees and clean it up.”

“Anyone else notice him when he left?”

Earl looked up at me. “He was real upset. He was mumbling to himself, mouthing the word ‘Tommy’ over and over again.”

Roy took out his pipe and a tobacco pouch. “I was surprised he could stand up, much less make it out the door. He damn near knocked over one of those college boys fawning all over Amanda. Didn’t act like he’d even seen him.”

“Drunk as a skunk,” said Jim Bob, remembering that he was supposed to be helping me solve the case.

I put down the deck and went outside. Lightning flickered beyond the crest of Cotter’s Ridge. Surely Dennis wasn’t so intoxicated that he was unaware of the approaching storm. I continued to Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill. A trio of good ol’ boys nodded politely at me as I walked by the booth. I pretended not to notice the bottle in a brown bag. Estelle gave me an unusually hard look as I sat down next to her.

“Has Dennis Gilbert been in here this afternoon?” I asked.

Ruby Bee came out of the kitchen, then froze. “What do you want?”

“I’m hunting for Dennis Gilbert,” I said, momentarily unnerved by her show of hostility. “His wife’s worried.”

Estelle put her hand on my shoulder as if I were the one behaving like a startled cat. “Amanda came in a few minutes ago and asked the same thing.” Her grip tightened until I could feel her fingernails dig into my flesh. “You should go talk to her right away.”

Wondering if Dennis was a prisoner in the kitchen, I glanced at Ruby Bee, who was more deeply rooted than a stump and about as friendly. “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you later.” I gave her a chance to respond, then went out back and walked slowly along the gravel lot toward the door of number six. It was not unthinkable that Ruby Bee and Estelle were responsible for my latest missing person; on one occasion they had participated in a conspiracy to hold a bureaucrat hostage. Anything was possible.

I noticed the tape on the door of Tommy’s room had again come loose and was puddled like a bright yellow rattlesnake. As I gathered it up, I saw a smear on the step. A dark brown smear, as in dried blood.

I opened the door cautiously, listening for a gasp or a telltale creak. I took a step inside, then shrank back as I saw Dennis Gilbert’s body on the bed. Blood had soaked the pillow and splattered on the bedspread, the carpet, and the wall next to the bed.

The back of his head looked as gruesome as Tommy’s had.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, closed my eyes, and concentrated on breathing slowly until I could trust myself. I inched around the bed to get a better look at Dennis’s slack face and filmy eyes. There was no point in checking for a pulse, but I forced myself to lift his wrist. His skin was still warm, his hand flaccid.

I made sure no one was hiding in the bathroom or the closet, then called Harve. I told him what I’d discovered and then, after he finished sputtering, said, “I don’t care if the score’s tied. You’re the Stump County sheriff, not the referee. Call McBeen on your way out the door.”

“Umpire,” he growled.

“Is that German?”

“Baseball has umpires. Football has referees.”

“That is so good to know, Harve. I’ve been sending my résumé to the wrong people all these years. I’ll expect you and McBeen in half an hour, at the Flamingo Motel behind Ruby Bee’s.”

I went outside and leaned against Tommy’s car. Amanda came to the door of her room and said, “Chief Hanks? Have you found out something about Dennis? Is he having tea and cookies somewhere? If he is, he’s in big trouble when he gets back. I’ve been crawling the walls. I could just kill him!”

I wanted to tell her she was a tad too late for that. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” I said gently as I herded her back into the room. I tried to glide over the gory details, but she seemed able to visualize the scene on her own. Her face turned chalky white as she sank to the bed and began to whimper like a wounded animal.

I fluttered over her for a minute, then gave up and called the barroom. Ruby Bee’s chilliness melted when I told her where I was and why. In the background, I heard Estelle volunteer to administer first aid. I suggested that a bottle of sherry might serve better than a tourniquet.

As soon as I saw Estelle march out the back door, I returned to Tommy’s room. I was not surprised to see a bloodied golf club in one corner. The carpet was scuffed from all the guests on Friday night. I doubted footprints could even be differentiated. Dennis’s face looked serene, as though he’d dozed off. There were no defensive marks on his arms or knuckles. I wondered if he, like Tommy, had been too drunk to fight back.

I could hear Estelle chattering in the next room, which meant Amanda would have heard raised voices or sounds of violence.

She couldn’t have slept through it, but she had taken a shower earlier. It was impossible to tell if anything had been taken. I continued into the bathroom. I flipped the mirror back and studied the contents of the medicine cabinet: a grungy tube of toothpaste, bottles of mouthwash and Pepto-Bismol, a box of condoms, a razor, and an aspirin tin. Tommy had been well prepared for hangovers and sex. Sex with whom? Tommy had won the bet with Dennis, but it was hard to believe that Amanda hadn’t made her objections known. The same Amanda who’d implied that Natalie and Tommy had something going on the side that did not include tees and golf balls. Neither Janna nor Kathleen Wasson was a likely candidate. It made more sense to assume that Tommy never left home without condoms.

As I closed the mirror, I spotted a white pill on the floor under the sink. Since the sheriff’s department lacked a skilled CSI team, I picked up the pill. It was shaped like a triangle with softened corners, and the numeral 8 was stamped on it. It was apt to be Dilaudid, I thought as I put it down next to the faucet. McBeen would either recognize it or have it analyzed. There was no bottle, however. I looked in the medicine cabinet again, just to be sure, and then searched the bathroom. I went back into the bedroom and carefully picked through the clothing on the floor, the contents of the wastebaskets, the closet, and finally the golf bag. Had someone been so desperate to get the pills that he’d killed Tommy merely to gain access to his motel room? Dennis had found the door unlocked before noon, and the room appeared to already have been searched. Why had the perp returned?

The distressing presence of the body sent me outside to wait for Harve and his vigilant deputies. Estelle was still in Amanda’s room. Since I couldn’t hear anything, it was likely that they were making inroads on the sherry, along with what ever emergency rations Amanda had stashed in her bag. I wasn’t about to poke my head in the door.

Kale Wasson came around the back corner of the building, carrying a misshapen pillowcase in his hand. His shoes and pants were covered with mud. He slouched toward the door of number four, presumably hoping I wouldn’t notice him. Alas, he’d forgotten to wear a cloak of invisibility.

“Kale!” I called, beckoning to him. “I want to talk to you.”

He stumbled as he veered in my direction, then caught himself before he fell. “Yeah, what?” he said in that churlish tone that teenagers perfect in middle school.

“What’s in the pillowcase?”

He glowered at me. “Aluminum cans. I’m into recycling.”

“Oh, really? Did you have any luck on the ridge? I love crumpled aluminum cans more than chocolate-covered cherries. Let me see.”

“So it’s pot.” He dropped the pillowcase. “Is that all, Miss Cop?”

“It’s Ms. Chief of Police to you, Kale. Do you want to do this here, or would you prefer for us to have this conversation in the motel room—with your mother present?”

“Like I care?”

I reminded myself there was no legal justification for spankings.

“I’m not going to charge you with possession, since I know for a fact that the marijuana in Raz’s pasture is about as potent as crabgrass. Lose the attitude or I’ll change my mind. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kale said, smirking.

“Your mother thinks you were asleep at ten o’clock last night, but I know better. It must have been almost two before you staggered in. Care to explain?”

“She’s crazy. Hell, she thinks the sun rises from my ass every morning. It doesn’t get dark ’til I take a crap.”

“Try again,” I said, “and this time show some respect for your mother. The big bad sheriff’s on his way here now. If I turn you over to him for questioning, you won’t be playing golf in the morning—or anytime soon. What’s it going to be?”

“I don’t know where she went last night. I got tired of sitting by myself, so I went over to the bar to see what was happening. I drank some beer. Later, Ridner came up with this idea about the stoplight. The mayor was in on it, so I didn’t see any harm. after it was over, I came back and went to bed.”

“Your mother went somewhere last night and didn’t get back until two? Didn’t you ask her where she went?”

“Why should I care? When she’s around, she won’t stop yammering about golf and tournaments and scholarships and all that shit. It gets real old.”

I turned around as Harve parked his car. His expression looked as if he’d run over dozens of skunks on the way from Farberville.

A couple of deputies got out of the backseat. Seconds later, McBeen drove up in his death wagonette. I turned back to Kale.

“We’re not finished. Wait for me in your room. If your mother yammers at you, all the better. I’ll expect full cooperation when I get there.”