by Joan Hess
I fell back on the bed as a knot of anxiety three times bigger than a basketball began to unravel. "She's okay? Her fever's down?"
"Coming down. Her head'll clear up now that she's off the pain medication. She told me to tell you to leave her be so she can get a decent night's sleep. She'll expect you at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, and she wants biscuits and gravy for breakfast."
I forced myself to sit up. "Thanks, Carlette. I'll tell Dr. Deweese how supportive you've been. I hope you get a raise or something."
Carlette laughed. "About all I can expect is to be named employee of the week. That's means I get to decide what kind of pizza we'll order on Friday. Other than that, I'll be making minimum wage till I retire in forty years."
"I need another favor," I said. "I left Ruby Bee's bag in the closet in her room. Could you find a safe place to keep it until tomorrow, preferably a locked cabinet or store room?"
"Somebody hot to steal her nightgown?"
"Just do this, please, and don't mention it to anyone else. I'll explain in the morning."
"Whatever," she said.
When I went out to the hall, I found Estelle waiting for me. I told her the news about Ruby Bee, and both of us were damp when we finished hugging. "That means we can leave tomorrow," I added. "I can hardly wait to see this place in the rearview mirror."
"Mackenzie said that the body on the balcony is the bald man. What in tarnation was he doing in there? Was he looking for Jim Bob?"
"I don't know why he went in there. His colleague had already searched the room earlier today. Maybe the two of them had a falling out late this afternoon. The man with the brown hair thought the room would be a safe place to leave the body for the rest of the day."
Estelle gnawed on her lip. "Nope, on account of I saw the bald man with Cherri Lucinda right when I hit the jackpot. I left the casino not more than five minutes later, and that's when that nasty man poked me with a gun and made me get into the elevator with him."
"Is there anything else you forgot to mention?"
"Don't get your nose out of joint. I did think to ask Cherri Lucinda about the bald man. She said he was nothing more than a customer who'd shown up at the club where she works."
"Yo?" called Baggins as he came down the hall. "I have been looking all over the casino, but not one tour member is down there. The show starts in ten minutes, and your tickets are paid for." He nodded at me. "You can have your mama's. C'Mon Tours wants everybody to be happy."
"Oh, Baggins, we are all happy," I said. "Cherri Lucinda and Rex are in this room. I can't promise they're in the mood for Elvisaromatica, but you can ask."
" Taylor 's in there, too," contributed Estelle. "Of course the only thing that's gonna perk her up is Todd walking through the door."
"Where is he?" asked Baggins.
"Why don't you ask her?" I said as I steered him into the room.
The room was growing crowded. Taylor and Mrs. Jim Bob were off in the corner conversing; from their expressions, I had a feeling the perfidy of the male species was the subject. Cherri Lucinda and Rex had appropriated the two chairs. Mackenzie was seated on a bed, watching the others as if he anticipated a pack attack. Baggins opened his mouth, then closed it and moved to a neutral corner.
Nobody seemed to have much to say. I was about to suggest we turn on CNN when Japonica and Chief Sanderson came into the room.
"Medical examiner and paramedics are next door," Sanderson said gruffly. "This is a right dangerous place to stay. I'm thinking I'll get my mother-in-law a room when she comes this summer. Anybody have anything to say?"
"I do, Floyd," I said. "You had no way of knowing that all this goes back to what took place at a nightclub in Farberville earlier in the week. The name of the club is the Dew Drop Inn."
"You're making this up!" squeaked Cherri Lucinda. "The only thing that ever happens is when some drunk throws a frat boy through a window, and that's not more than two or three times a month."
"It was a tad more serious. A drug deal went haywire, and in the confusion someone absconded with fifty thousand dollars and a kilo of cocaine. Stormy, to be precise. She thought the Elvis Pilgrimage would be a safe way to get out of the state, but two of the unhappy dealers came after her. Several of the tour members spotted them, and Baggins here was gracious enough to spell out the itinerary for them."
"I did no such thing," Baggins said indignantly.
Estelle jabbed a finger in his direction. "I saw you talking to them, Hector Baggins. Don't go pretending they wanted your grandma's recipe for turnip greens. You were so scared you almost pissed your pants."
"Did not!" he snapped.
"Did, too!" she shot back.
I intervened before they degeneratated into spitting and hairpulling. "Yes, you did. All they wanted was Stormy's bag, but she was hanging onto it like a cockleburr. They had no luck Thursday night in Memphis, and they had no luck Friday night because C'Mon Tours never showed up at the motel in Tupelo. The two men arrived here today. One of them forced his way into this room and searched the bags. Someone tipped them off that Stormy had graciously offered to bring Estelle's and Ruby Bee's bags to their room, so eventually the same man created an opportunity to search their bags, too. It did not end well for him."
Cherri Lucinda waved her hand. "Okay, so what you're saying might explain why Stormy came along with us. But you're also saying this bald man and the other one weren't even here when Stormy was pushed off the balcony at dawn this morning. Did Jim Bob do it after all?"
"He most certainly did not?" snapped Mrs. Jim Bob. She narrowed her eyes. "Why does that concern you, missy? Have I seen you somewhere before?"
Japonica moved into the space between them. "Go ahead, Arly. This is better than a miniseries."
I shrugged. "No, Jim Bob didn't do it. The person who did it was desperate for money, and he had a good idea what he might find in Stormy's bag, assuming he could get it. Desperate for money because he's a compulsive gambler. How much did you lose last night, Rex?"
"A significant sum," he said crossly.
"I thought he was an Elvis scholar," said Taylor. "Besides, he's a college professor. He's most assuredly not the sort to be a compulsive gambler. They shoot craps in filthy basements and hang out at racetracks."
"Not always. Rex is so dedicated to gambling that he donned a disguise and infiltrated the tour simply to get into the casino. How long ago were you banned from every casino along this strip?"
"Who says I was?"
"I do," said Mackenzie. "The hairpiece had me fooled, but now that I have a good look at-"
"So what? You asses refused me credit just when I felt my luck change. I had to recoup my losses. I play a very sophisticated system that is inherently foolproof, but it takes time for the odds to shift in my favor."
Chief Sanderson glared at him until he looked away. "So he's a frustrated gambler. How does that get him in here-and out?"
I leaned against the edge of the dresser. "He ran out of cash long about dawn. He'd often met his bookie at the Dew Drop Inn, so he recognized Stormy just as Cherri Lucinda recognized him that first day in the van."
"No, I didn't," said Cherri Lucinda. "The hairpiece had me fooled, too."
Estelle waggled a finger at her. "I saw you staring at him before we were halfway to the interstate."
"Well, I wasn't, so there's no point in arguing about it anymore."
"I think you should go on," Taylor added.
I agreed. "He learned about the missing money from the local news. Her behavior on the tour gave him a good idea where the money might be. He found a uniform in a linen closet, picked up a tray from room service set on the carpet by someone's door, and persuaded her to let him inside. She went ballistic and he ended up shoving her over the railing. Before he could leave, he heard Jim Bob and Cherri Lucinda come into the adjoining room. He stayed on the balcony for a few minutes. The scream from below must have been terrifying, but possibly not as much so as finding a dozen ladies in t
he hallway. Luckily, they were too distracted to notice him as he emerged, and assumed he had come from the service elevator to pick up a tray. Most of us would have leaped to that conclusion."
"It was an accident," Rex said. "She threatened to scream, so I did my best to keep my hand clamped on her mouth. She was a very strong young woman. I believe she intended to push me off the balcony, which means I acted in self-defense. It was very unfortunate. Had she simply given me the money-money that wasn't hers, in any case-none of this would have happened. I tried to tell her that we both would have been millionaires within a matter of hours. I have a foolproof system, you know, and my luck would have changed."
Nobody seemed impressed with his logic. After a moment of silence, I said, "And now we're back to the bald man, garroted in the next room, and his colleague, shot earlier in this very room. Who tipped them off about the room numbers? Who was in the hotel when Stormy took three identical bags upstairs? Who could have supplied one of them with a hotel uniform?"
Mackenzie chuckled. "You just explained how Malanac found a uniform in a storage closet. For all I know, you have a uniform in your overnight bag."
"I don't have a list of room numbers," I said, "and maroon is not my color. Have you had transactions with these men in the past? Casinos have been known to launder drug money."
"Not here," he said in a surly voice.
"They piqued your interest with their questions about Stormy, didn't they? They expected your cooperation, but you decided you might just keep all the goodies for yourself. When the man with brown hair got too close, you barged into the room and shot him, claiming you were protecting your revered guests. Where did you come from, Mackenzie? Could it have been the next room? Did you find the bald man in the casino and tell him that you knew where the bag was?"
He eyed the distance to the door, but Chief Sanderson was blocking the potential path. "I'm not saying another word until I have a lawyer."
Japonica seemed to have forgiven me for past transgressions. "So where's the bag?"
"At the hospital," I said. "Mistakenly assuming it was Ruby Bee's, I took it to her earlier today. A few minutes ago I called Carlette and asked her to put it in a safe place overnight."
"Carlette? You told her where to find a bag with coke and fifty thousand dollars? She just got out of prison three months ago for a drug conviction. She's probably three quarters of the way to Alabama by now." She brushed past her boss. "I'll go call the state police. Sweet Jesus, of all the people to tell…"
"Sorry," I called.
I'd never have nifty braids.
"Okay," boomed Brother Verber, "let's conga!"
The line formed behind him, with much snickering and good-natured pinching. Those sitting sedately at the bar stared as the line began to snake through the packed casino. The lyrics didn't make much sense, but it was impossible to ignore the ebullience of the performers.
"'Violence and wickedness and extramarital affairs; with sluts that ain't your wife; yadeedahdeeyahdeedah and zionism; this is the sinful life? This is the sinful life?'"
Several men in gray suits grabbed their cell phones and commenced barking urgent demands. Unfortunately, the head of security was not in his office.
"B-twelve," Dahlia muttered over and over, as if this were a magic spell. "B-twelve."
Martha Hitebred sat down next to her, settled her purse on the floor, and began to get ready for the evening's entertainment. "Goodness gracious, Dahlia, you've got half the table covered."
"B-twelve."
"How much is the jackpot?"
Dahlia glowered at her. "Three thousand. Hush and let me concentrate. These cards are all that's left in the bank account."
The man calling the balls rattled off something that was not B12. Dahlia pictured sweet Kevvie Junior and Rose Marie's little faces. She had to win for them so they'd have shoes in the winter and bicycles for Christmas (when the time came, anyway).
"B-twelve."
Her jaw dropped as she realized she herself had not said the magic words. She stared in disbelief at the board above the caller's head. B-12 gleamed like the star of Bethlehem.
"Bingo" Dahlia screamed. "Bingo!"
"So," Ruby Bee said as she poured several teaspoons of sugar into a mug of coffee, "did you just run off and leave everybody in the lurch?"
"Hardly in the lurch," I said. "Japonica acknowledged that some weird local guy was responsible for the convenience-store robbery. The clerk recognized him despite the ski cap. When Jim Bob drags his sorry butt back, all the charges will be dropped and he'll be free to leave town. If he figures out that Mrs. Jim Bob is waiting, he may take his own sweet time. I would."
"Brother Verber ain't going to be in the mood to drive back anytime soon," Estelle said as she nibbled on a limp strip of bacon. "Mrs. Jim Bob went down the hall and banged on his door at seven this morning. When she came back, she said he was pea green and stank like a distillery. I don't think there were any converts in the casino last night." She put down the bacon. "I feel kinda bad about leaving Taylor. I talked to her in the lobby while I was waiting for you. She still hasn't laid eyes on Todd."
Ruby Bee sniffed. "I wouldn't feel so sorry for her, Estelle. She tried to sound like she was high and mighty, but Cherri Lucinda told me that Taylor used to hang out at the Dew Drop Inn, trying to wheedle bikers into buying her beers. I wouldn't be surprised if this family farm consists of a couple of acres and a trailer."
"So that's who Cherri Lucinda was gaping at in the van," said Estelle. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Hovering near death must have put it right out of my mind. I could almost hear the angels singing."
I put my arm around her and gave her a quick hug. "Don't ever scare me like that again," I said.
Estelle leaned across the table and caught Ruby Bee's hand. "Me neither. I was so worried I could scarcely eat a bite the entire time you were in the hospital. If something had happened to you, I don't believe I could have made myself go back to Maggody. It just wouldn't ever have been the same."
That was true, I thought as I gestured at the waitress to bring the check. "This one's on me," I said. "The fog should be clearing up soon, so we might as well get on the road."
Ruby Bee looked out the window. "I ain't so sure we shouldn't have another cup of coffee, Arly. We don't want to end up spinning our wheels in a muddy field. Another fifteen minutes…"
"What's wrong?" I said so shrilly that the other customers all turned to gape at me. "Is the pain back?"
She licked her lips, then turned to frown at me. "No, it's just that I thought for a second that I saw somebody out there. I couldn't make him out real well on account of the fog, but he looked… well, he looked sorta familiar. It couldn't have been… who I thought. I guess all that pain medicine has left me addled. The next thing I know, I'll be seeing Raz Buchanon and his sow drive up and park next to that Cadillac."
"Let's hit the road for Maggody," I said brightly. "I could use some tranquillity and a grilled cheese sandwich."
"I swear, Arly Hanks," my mother said, "all you ever think about is food. What you need is to meet a nice young fellow and settle down."
I figured I'd hear about it all the way home.
Joan Hess
Joan Hess is the author of both the Claire Malloy and the Maggody mystery series. She is a winner of the American Mystery Award, a member of Sisters in Crime, and a former president of the American Crime Writers League. She lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas.
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