The Madness of Mercury (29 page)

Outside, the sun had sunk below the horizon. The wind had come up and the temperature was dropping to a frosty level. I got back in my car, turned the key in the ignition, and cranked up the heater. I pulled out to the main street. The few retail shops had all closed. I passed by the Sheriff’s Station, dark now except for an overhead light above the front door. Further down the street, flashing multi-colored Christmas lights outlined the blacked-out windows of the local bar. I heard a blast of country music emanating from within as I cruised by.

The biggest light source in town was the Frosty Freeze, empty except for one teenage clerk wiping off the counter. He looked out the window as my car drove by, as if yearning for something to happen. What did kids do at night in a town like this? For that matter, what did the big people do? I drove out the main road and again headed back toward the Prophet’s Paradise, a misnomer if ever there was one.

The road was pitch dark. I parked my car on the shoulder and walked back to the locked gates. I peered through the chain-link fence, hoping to see or hear something. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I saw light coming from one of the rustic cabins. The gate was unmanned as before. I debated climbing over the eight-foot fence to gain entry. I could probably do it, but the thought of getting cut up on the barbed wire gave me second thoughts. I couldn’t imagine Eunice surviving in a place like this unless the interior of the compound was a lot more comfortable. Most of all, I couldn’t ignore the pattern forming in her chart. I had to find her.

An owl screeched in the tree above. I shivered. I was sure Eunice was here, but I had no way to get to her. As I stood there in the dark, frustrated, going over my nonexistent options, I heard the dogs barking. They sounded like big, nasty dogs that I didn’t want to mess with. Once again, I beat a hasty retreat to the warmth of my car.

What could I do? I could admit defeat and drive back to the city. It would only take a couple of hours. Maybe I could even sleep in my own bed. What a thought! Or I could check into the Bide-a-Wee Motel and try again in the morning. Talking to the Walkers tomorrow sounded like a plan, and maybe I could light a fire under Sheriff Leo and ride along with him. In any case, I wasn’t at all willing to give up. The Bide-a-Wee it was.

I followed the road along the route the nurse had taken. In the dark, I hoped I could find the turnoff to town. I missed it on the first pass and didn’t realize until I passed an abandoned farmhouse that I hadn’t seen earlier. I pulled a U-turn and retraced my route, driving slowly until I spotted the turn. When I arrived on Powell Street, I pulled into the courtyard of the Bide-a-Wee. A green neon vacancy sign hung in the window of the office. I pushed through the glass door and, over the sound of a television blasting from somewhere inside, I heard a buzzer.

I dumped my purse on the counter and waited. A small fake evergreen decorated with tiny lights and mini cookies stood on a table in the corner. I moved in to get a closer look, wondering how long the cookies had hung there. I was tempted to pick one off the tree but worried what the etiquette might be. Did one wait for Christmas to eat the goodies? Or were they packed away to be rehung the following year? I hoped not. While I wrestled with this dilemma, the volume of the television ceased. The door opened. A diminutive woman with glasses on the end of her nose approached the counter. Her head was a mass of tight curls in a color somewhere between her original blond and silver. She smiled when she saw me and raised her glasses to get a better look. She wore a fuzzy yellow cardigan covered with embroidered bees. My heart lurched, remembering Eunice’s collection of jeweled bee pins.

“Hello, dear. I’m glad I wasn’t hearing things when the buzzer went. My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

I smiled and didn’t comment. Given the volume of the television, it was no wonder. “I’d like a room for the night, please.”

“Just one night?” The overhead neon lights cast a purplish tinge over her hair.

“Yes. I think so.”
I hope so.

“Well … ” She pulled a large register out from under the counter. “I can give you room 202. It has a full-sized bed. Would that be all right?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Thanks.”

“Just sign the register and fill out this form.” She slid a piece of paper toward me. “That’ll be $39.50. Oh, and the pool isn’t open this time of year. It’s not heated, so we have to drain it in the winter.”

I hid my disappointment that I wouldn’t be frolicking in an unheated pool in December. I filled out the form and pushed my credit card across the counter, opening my wallet so she could check my ID. She readjusted her glasses and peered at my driver’s license.

“You’re from the city?”

“Yes.”

“What brings you up this way, dear?”

“Just looking for someone.”

“Hmm.” She regarded me more thoughtfully. “Someone in town? Maybe I could help you. I’ve lived here my whole life and know everyone.”

“Well … ” I debated how open I could be with her. “I’m looking for an elderly lady who might have gone to the Prophet’s Paradise. She disappeared from her home last night.”

“Are you a detective?” she whispered.

“Oh, no. Just a friend of the family, but no one could leave to come up here right away.”

“That’s terrible. That family must be so worried.”

“They are, believe me.” I thought about Dorothy and felt a pang of guilt that I hadn’t called her all day.

“I go to a regular church. And I’m not much of a joiner, so I don’t really understand what all the hoopla is with these people. But they seem all right when they come into town. Don’t bother anyone, at least.”

“I understand from the sheriff that some people from the town work out there.”

“Yes, a few. You’ve met our sheriff?”

“Yes, ma’am.” A few more days and I’d be talking like a local.

“Come on down to the office tomorrow morning around ten. You can meet Duane. He’s my handyman. Does odd fix-it jobs here at the motel. He works out there occasionally. Maybe he could give you some information. I’m Gladys, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Gladys.” I reached across the counter and we shook hands. “I’d appreciate any help I can get.”

She indicated the doorway behind her. “I just want to catch my show, dear, but you come on down tomorrow morning. And there’s coffee and donuts here till nine thirty, if you’d like some.”

“Thanks. That would be nice.”

“Good night.” She smiled and scurried away to the room in the rear. I picked up my key and heard the volume of the television return to stun level as I pushed through the glass doors. A chill blast of wind whipped through the entryway as I hurried back to my car. I pulled the car inside the goldfish bowl courtyard and parked on the opposite side from Room 202, better to keep an eye on it if I heard any strange noises in the night. I turned off the engine and dialed Dorothy’s number. She answered on the second ring.

“I was hoping that was you! Have you found anything out yet?”

“Not much. I’ve located the compound and made friends with the sheriff, but I haven’t been able to get onto the grounds. I’m staying at the Bide-a-Wee Motel tonight. So don’t worry that I’m not back in the city yet.”

“Julia, I don’t know how I can ever repay you. And again, I’m sorry I snapped at you last night. My nerves are just frazzled.”

“No worries. And you don’t owe me! I’ll call you at some point tomorrow when I know more.” I clicked off.

Next I dialed Don and got his voicemail. I left a message that I was well and the name of the motel where I was spending the night. I tried Gale’s number. She didn’t answer. I left another message that I was out of town and not to worry. I’d call her in a day or so to explain.

I shoved the room key into the pocket of my jeans, popped open the trunk, and pulled out a down jacket and a scarf I keep in there for emergencies. Swapping it out with my lightweight jacket, I closed the trunk and walked out of the courtyard down Powell Street, heading for Cowboy’s End.

T
HIRTY-
E
IGHT

A
S DARK AS THE
street was, it still took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the interior of the bar. Rows of bottles that needed dusting were lined up in front of a long mirror. A brightly lit moving diorama advertising beer hung on the opposite wall from the bar. And at the end of the room, a jukebox had pride of place. Two men in jeans and denim jackets lounged at a table in the corner, several empty beer bottles in front of them. One sat with his booted foot resting on a nearby rickety chair. A couple danced listlessly in the center of the floor, clutching each other to the strains of a twanging rendition of unrequited love. Peanut shells and sawdust littered the floor along the length of the bar. I groped for a stool as my eyes adjusted. One woman sat alone at the bar with an untouched beer in front of her, cracking peanut shells in her teeth. It was my nurse. I decided to take another chance.

I sat on the stool next to her. “Hi.”

She turned slightly unfocused eyes in my direction. “Oh. It’s you.”

I raised a finger to the bartender who ambled over. “What kind of wine do you have?”

He snorted. “Merlot and Chardonnay.”

The nurse giggled.

“Merlot, please.”

The nurse turned to me. “What’s your name?” The phrase seemed flat, more like a statement than a question.

“Julia. What’s yours?”

“Edie.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to bother you earlier. I just didn’t know who to talk to.”

The bartender returned with a glass that looked like an empty peanut butter jar filled with a dark red substance. I took a sip. It wasn’t bad, or maybe I was just desperate.

“Better if you don’t talk to anybody here.” Edie cracked a peanut shell in her fingers and popped the fruit into her mouth, washing it down with a swig of beer. “In fact, you’re only the third person who’s talked to me in the seven months I’ve been in this stinking town.”

“Where are you from?”

“L.A.”

“What brought you up here?”

“Oh … I don’t know … I went through a break-up and I guess I had some crazy idea I needed to be close to nature. Some place simpler. So … ” Another peanut shell cracked. “I answered an ad for a local doctor who needed someone who could double as a nurse and office manager.”

“How did you end up out at the compound?”

“I visit there two afternoons a week for an hour or so, whatever they need, or if they call for me. You know, if someone gets sick. Check some of the people, blood pressure, vitals, that kind of thing. I still work for the doc.” She spoke carefully, slurring a word here and there. She’d managed to down a few beers since I had seen her at the diner.

I glanced around the bar. “So is this what they call nightlife here?”

Edie grimaced. “Yeah. Can you believe it? They’re all chicken farmers or some such thing. To bed at sundown and up at dawn. I guess I thought I’d find some real men up here. But they’re either drunk or taken.” She shook her head. “What was I thinking?”

“Far cry from L.A.”

“You can’t even imagine. Look, I’m sorry if I was rude to you. It’s just … I didn’t want to talk about that place.” She leaned closer. I could smell the beer on her breath. “They scare me.”

“Have they threatened you?”

“No. Not directly. It’s just … I’ve mentioned it to the doctor I work for. He’s a decent guy, but … he doesn’t want to do anything.”

“What do you mean?” A small knot gathered in my stomach. Was she about to confirm my worst fears for Eunice?

“It’s like this.” She swiveled on her stool and looked straight at me, lowering her voice. “I’m only allowed to see the people they choose. I can’t just check anyone I want. They put me in a little room and bring people in. They’re mostly elderly, but not all of them. A lot of them seem to be in decent shape when they first come, but after a while … ”

“What?”

She hesitated and looked over her shoulder, then turned back to me. “I think they’re being drugged. And some … are maybe overworked. They have a farm out there. But I can’t prove anything. I’m not allowed to draw blood or do anything like that. Today … well, I made a stink. There’s a man out there. He needs further care—he needs hospitalization. I told them that, but they didn’t want to hear it.”