by Joan Hess
"A men's room?" I said weakly.
"A very crowded men's room."
"And one of them…?"
"Oh yes," he said, "and with an extraordinary range. I offered to cover dry-cleaning expenses, but most of them were speechless with outrage or embarrassment. Does she do this kind of thing often?"
"Not that I recall," I said. "Did she explain?"
Mackenzie's lips twitched a bit. "No, Miss Hanks, she did not, nor did she offer to apologize to the man she'd harassed. He's a state senator, and not happy that he might have alienated a dozen constituents."
"A vote by any other name," I murmured as I leaned against a table and tried very hard not to picture the scene. A giggle erupted. I turned around and stared out the window at the parking lot. "Estelle," I began, then did what I could to convert another giggle into a snort, "would never-"
"Never?" said Mackenzie.
"I'm sure she's really sorry," I said, now clamping down on my lip and making noises that were more suitable to a winded horse, "if what she did resulted in him pissing off constituents."
At which point I lost it. I needed to. I'd driven most of the night, then been obliged to deal with all kinds of officious nonsense, weird behavior-okay, very weird behavior-and a steady stream of people knocking on the door. My nose exploded with suppressed amusement. I waved him off and staggered down the hall, clutching my stomach.
"Miss Hanks," Mackenzie said, "my job's on the line. I'm paid to maintain a surreal microcosm. There is no dawn or dusk, no grocery money gone in the roll of dice or the flip of a card, no drunk hauled up to his hotel room to sleep it off until he wakes up and realizes that he's blown his life's savings. We cannot permit disruptive behavior. Can you control Miss Oppers?"
"I'll try to convince her not to piss off anybody else," I said, then doubled over and came near cracking my head against a wall.
"Will you please be serious?" he said.
I gnawed on my knuckles for a moment and willed myself to get over it. "If this senator still wants an apology, I can speak to Estelle about it."
"The last thing the senator desires is to relive the experience. All I need is your promise that absolutely nothing else will happen until you and Miss Oppers leave."
"Absolutely," I said, drawing a cross on my chest. "This senator-what does he look like?"
"He looks like the epitome of indignation," Mackenzie said coldly. "Do not approach him under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?"
"Is he bald?"
"I am not going to discuss this any further. Keep her under control. This is not a video-game arcade where a limited amount of adolescent mischief is tolerated." He turned his back on me and jabbed at the elevator button.
I went to the room and let myself in. Estelle was perched on the edge of the bed, her purse in her lap and her ankles crossed. Her jaw was thrust out so far that I doubted she could see the carpet.
"Waiting for a parade?" I asked as I sat down.
"I called the hospital. Ruby Bee's still asleep. They expect Dr. Deweese in another hour or so. I was thinking it might be nice to take some flowers to brighten up her room."
"I'm not sure there's a florist shop around here."
"Well, then," she said, "maybe I'll buy her a couple of magazines in the gift shop. She used to like those true-confession stories where the gal does something real stupid but ends up living happily ever after anyways. I never much cared for them myself."
"I guess you're more interested in politics-or at least in politicians. That would explain why you were so thrilled when you spotted the senator that you lost your mind."
"What are you getting at?"
"Why else would you pursue him into the men's room?" I said. "I hope everybody washed his hands afterward."
She had the decency to look abashed. "Are they gonna let us stay here for the time being? The room's already paid for through tonight and I've unpacked my things. It'd be a shame to have to move to a different hotel."
"We're okay unless you decide to break into the safe or run naked through the casino. At this point, I wouldn't be especially surprised."
"I do not appreciate your attitude, missy. If you can't mind your mouth, I'll just go sit in the car and do my best not to die of hypothermia. There's extra blankets in the closet. They may not help much when it gets real cold tonight. I hate to imagine what condition I'll be in when you find me in the morning."
"Very stiff, I should think," I said. "So you thought you saw the bald man going into the lobby, right?"
"As sure as I live and breathe. I would have caught up with him by the desk if I hadn't tripped over a suitcase and darn near broke my neck. As I was scrambling to my feet, I saw him go through a doorway. I went charging after him. I guess you know the rest."
"Indeed I do," I said.
"It's kind of odd, though," she said as chewed on her lip, "because I was real sure it was him. He might have been doing his business in one of the stalls. Why don't I go sit in the lobby and watch for him while you do the same in the casino? I'll describe him for you. If you spot someone who fits what I've said, you can come get me."
"Absolutely not. I don't want you to go so far as the balcony without me. In fact, it might be better if you went on home tomorrow in the van. I'll stay until Ruby Bee is released, then bring her back with me."
"I am not about to abandon her in her time of need! After all the things she's done for me, I have no intention of going back to Maggody so I can give Elsie McMay a perm and trim Darla Jean McIlhaney's bangs like nothing went on. Ruby Bee was by my side when I received that unfortunate inheritance from my uncle, just like I was there when she found that letter."
"What letter?" I asked, leaning forward.
Estelle took a minute to answer, and I could see she was searching for words. "From your daddy, Arly. It was a hard time for her. Let's you and me go to the hospital and find out how she's doing. She probably doesn't want flowers or a bunch of silly magazines."
I couldn't think of anything to say. We drove to the hospital, went inside, and nodded at the pink-clad woman still defending the castle keep.
Ruby Bee was awake. Her eyes were dull and her flesh seemed swollen, as if the constant drip from the IV was overinflating her with liquids. "What are you doing here?" she asked me.
"Same thing I was doing this morning," I said. "Making sure they keep you happy."
"This morning?"
I licked my lips. "Yes, this morning. Estelle and I came by to make sure you're not giving the nurses a hard time."
"Can I leave now?" she said, sitting up and picking at the adhesive strip that held the needle in place. "I want to go home, Arly. You fetch my clothes and my handbag. They ain't nice here. I'll get dressed and we can leave."
I took her hand and pulled it away before she could dislodge the needle. "You can't leave just yet."
Estelle touched my back. "I'll find a nurse."
Ruby Bee's face wrinkled with confusion. "Didn't you come to take me home, Arly? That's all I want. They keep coming in to poke and prod me like I was nothing but a piece of meat. Is Estelle mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"
A nurse came into the room and shooed me out. I could hear her murmuring as I sank against a wall in the corridor and ground my palms into my face. It took me a moment to realize Estelle was rubbing my neck.
"I'm all right," I said. "Let's find out if Dr. Deweese is here."
We went to the cafeteria and found him eating a sandwich. "Miss Hanks," he said as we came into the room, "I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about your mother. The X rays were inconclusive. The ultrasound is down, which is not unusual, and we're waiting for a technician from Memphis. If he can get it fixed, we'll do a scan this evening. She needs to stay here for a few more days, in any case."
Estelle nudged me aside. "She's all bewildered and upset. What if she yanks out that needle and goes roaming down the hall and out the back door? I don't reckon this hospital is more than half a mile from the Mi
ssissippi River. She never could swim."
"I'll order a sedative," he said. "We won't know anything for at least three hours. Why don't you go get some rest and come back this evening?"
I was too frustrated to do anything more than shrug. Estelle and I went back to the parking lot and got into the car. Rather than heading for the hotel, I suggested we drive around the area and look at the other casinos. We did so in gloomy silence, not bothering to comment on the gaudy exteriors and billboards advertising cheap buffets and forthcoming country music shows. We caught occasional glimpses of the muddy river; if Huck and Jim were on their way to New Orleans, they'd already passed by.
It was beginning to get dark as we arrived back at The Luck of the Draw. I stayed close to Estelle as we went into the lobby, praying she didn't see a bald head in the crowd and launch into action.
"Would you take a look at that?" she said, halting in midstep.
I poised my hand within reach of her elbow. "Do you see him?"
"Not hardly. If I'm not imagining things, that's Mrs. Jim Bob at the desk, and Brother Verber right behind her. What in tarnation would they be doing here?"
"They must have heard about Jim Bob," I said.
"I'd almost forgotten about him being in jail. Do you think he called 'em to come bail him out?"
I shook my head. "And be forced to explain why he was here in the first place? I should think he'd prefer to chop cotton for the next twenty years. Let's go up to the room before they spot us."
We'd almost made it to the hallway when Mrs. Jim Bob said, "Arly? Is that Estelle with you? I thought she was on some Elvis Presley tour."
"Shit," I said under my breath, then pasted on a smile. "This is the final destination."
"It shore is good to see some familiar faces?" boomed Brother Verber, grinning so broadly that several people near him shrank back.
Mrs. Jim Bob beckoned at me. "I want you to come over here and talk some sense into this young fellow. I have never in all my born days encountered such impudence. I have explained the situation to him at least a dozen times, but I might as well have been trying to communicate with Marjorie." She stared at the desk clerk. "Marjorie's a sow, for your information."
"What's the problem?" I asked as I joined her.
"He says we can't stay here."
"There aren't any rooms," the desk clerk said, looking as if he were prepared to duck behind the desk if she threw a punch.
Brother Verber rocked forward and pointed his finger at the hapless clerk. "No room at the inn," he said, "is what they told Mary and Joseph. Do you think that innkeeper was welcomed into heaven when his day came? Do you think ol' Saint Peter slapped him on the back and told him to come on in and make hisself at home 'cause there was plenty of room?"
The clerk gulped. "It's Saturday night. All the hotels from here to Memphis are always full. If you want to come back on Tuesday, we can fix you up."
"Do something, Arly," growled Mrs. Jim Bob.
"You planning to give birth?" I asked her. "I can probably get you a bed in the maternity ward at the hospital."
"You listen here, young lady," she began, quivering with rage, "if you don't curb your tongue-"
Estelle butted in. "Jim Bob's room is liable to be empty for some time to come. You all could stay there."
"Have you forgotten I am a respectable married woman? Some folks"-she turned a beady-eyed glare on those waiting in line-"may choose to share a bed with a someone other than their spouse, but I will never stoop to that kind of immoral behavior. I am a devout Christian, and when I got married, I vowed to love, honor, and obey. I disrecollect the preacher saying that infidelity was acceptable."
"It was just a suggestion," said Estelle as she stalked away.
I didn't know what Mrs. Jim Bob had learned about Jim Bob's current woes, but it didn't seem wise to suggest that she share a room with Cherri Lucinda.
"Okay," I said without enthusiasm, "here's what we can do."
12
Kevin had long since driven all the way around Farberville and was heading west in the direction of the Oklahoma border. He hadn't seen Dahlia's car anywhere along the way-not parked in front of a store or next to the side of the highway, which is where he figured it'd be if she had a flat tire. He'd done his best to teach her how to change a tire, but she'd always just given him a puckery look until he fixed it himself and they could be on their way.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. The state police car was still behind him, and now there was another following it. Since he was being real careful to stay well under the speed limit, he wasn't worried about them. It was getting on toward Saturday evening, after all, and they were most likely going home to have supper with their families and watch television. If only he could be doing the same, he thought wistfully. Instead, he had no choice but to go search for his wife so he could bring her back to her sweet little babies.
It was hard not to imagine the worst. What if she'd been run off the road by a motorcycle gang and was plastered against the steering wheel, unconscious and in danger of icing over like a white wedding cake? She'd been frettin' about money ever since she came home from the hospital. What if she'd been so desperate that she'd been hired by a drug dealer to take his filthy wares to Oklahoma? She could be in a jail in Muskogee or Sallisaw, hanging down her head in shame. Or what if she'd met some fellow with plenty of money and was lying in his arms in a motel room? What if the room had velvety red wallpaper, a mirror on the ceiling, and a king-size water bed? That would explain why she kept slapping away her lawfully wedded husband whenever he wiggled up next to her under the covers and let his fingers ramble over her wondrous ripples of flesh. Was she doing it 'cause she loved this fellow-or was he giving her money?
Kevin's eyes clouded with tears. It was his fault, not hers. If he was bringing home more money every week, she wouldn't have been obliged to sell her body to a stranger, even if he drove a fancy car and bought her boxes of chocolates and great big bottles of perfume that smelled like diamonds.
He blinked as he watched a car with the sheriff's logo cut across the grassy median and fall into line behind the other two. Maybe there was some sort of policeman's ball up the road a piece, and they were all gettin' ready to dance the night away. He slowed down to encourage them to get on to their party, but none of them pulled into the passing lane. In fact, they were acting like he was leading them right to the door of the Elks Lodge or wherever they were going.
Kevin had never before considered himself a natural-born leader. This was kind of nice, though. Here he was, gathering up all the law-enforcement agents in Stump County so he could guide them to where they wanted to go. He rolled down the window and waved at them so's to assure them that they were in good hands; in response, they turned on their blue lights, adding a downright festive air to the occasion.
It was only fitting that he was in a Bronco, and a white one at that, since he pictured himself in a big white cowboy hat with a little feather tucked in the band. Feeling like the trail master at the head of along line of covered wagons, each filled with stouthearted settlers, rosy-cheeked children, and all their worldly possessions, he took them onward into Indian territory.
I was keenly aware I was playing Russian roulette. After some dickering and many homilies from Mrs. Jim Bob emphasizing her moral superiority, she agreed to take my bed in the room originally assigned to Estelle and Ruby Bee. I moved my things into the next room, planning to sleep in what had been Stormy's bed. Brother Verber took Jim Bob's room. Cherri Lucinda, conveniently absent, had not been consulted, but I was pretty sure she'd rather have me than her boyfriend's acid-tongued wife or Maggody's spiritual guru (to use the term loosely).
I'd put my toothbrush in the bathroom and was hoping to sneak away to the hospital, when Mrs. Jim Bob barged through the adjoining door with Brother Verber in tow.
"Explain what's going on," she said. "Jim Bob is in jail for killing some woman? Why isn't he in Hot Springs? Have you spoken to him? I want answe
rs, Arly Hanks-and none of your smart talk."
I looked longingly at the door to the hallway, but forced myself to stay put. "I don't know for sure why Jim Bob is here. He must have changed his mind when he reached the interstate, and decided to come to Mississippi instead. Two of the women on the Elvis tour were staying in this room. He invited one of them to… go down to the casino. I was there myself last night. Lots of good, clean fun."
"There's nothing good or clean about wagering," she said, her lips pinched.
Brother Verber loomed over my shoulder. "Sister Barbara knows of what she speaks. 'The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life.' That's from a letter the Apostle Paul wrote to the Romans."
"I said wagering," said Mrs. Jim Bob. "You don't get wages when you wager."
"You don't? It'd seem like you would."
"Well, you don't." She looked at me. "I don't believe I've heard the whole story as of yet."
"Perhaps Jim Bob should tell you himself. I'm planning to go to the hospital in a few minutes. I can drop you off at the jail and pick you up later."
"I can see from the way you're squirming that you're avoiding the truth," she said. "I have to know what he did."
Brother Verber grabbed her hand. "I'm here for you, Sister Barbara, no matter how painful this turns out to be. I'll be at your side, praying for you night and day until your ordeal is ended."
"I'm not sure it's started," she said as she disengaged his hand, then retreated across the room. To my regret, she did not continue out the door. "Did he come here on account of this woman that died?"
"No," I said, relieved to be able to answer truthfully. "As far as I know, he'd never met her until late yesterday afternoon. The problem is that he had the adjoining room. Witnesses say he was the only man who could have been on the balcony"-I pointed at the one in question-"when Stormy was pushed. He claims he wasn't."
