Out on a Limb

by Joan Hess

  Inez did her best to stick out her chin, but the effect was marginal. “She could have tried to blackmail him because he had a collection of porn movies hidden in his office. Some of them, the ones with minors, aren’t protected by the First Amendment. We studied that in my government class last week.”

  “The cops didn’t notice a stack of videos? Give me a break!”

  “The cops are going to stop to watch movies? You give me a break!”

  I cut them off before they went off on a tangent, which they often did without any discernible provocation. “What’s really important is to figure out where Daphne is right now. She’s only two years older than you, and although she’s had some experiences I hope you’ll never have, she’s naive. Where could she be?”

  “In a shed in the alley behind Thurber Street,” said Caron without hesitation. “She stayed there before.”

  Inez fluttered her hand as though she were seated in the front row of her government class, where I was sure she always sat. “In the garage behind her mother’s house. You didn’t search there, Ms. Malloy. She knows her mother never drives the car. She could have been hiding in the backseat when you climbed over the fence. Now she’s in the house.”

  “Those are both feasible theories,” I said. “Why don’t you two take the car and check both of them out?”

  “Then you’re sure she doesn’t have a gun?” said Caron.

  I sank into the upholstery. “I’m not sure of anything except where our next meal is coming from, and that’s from a box of macaroni and cheese. I’d go with you, but I think I’d better be here in case Daphne shows up looking for Skyler. She’s never seen either of you. Knock on Sheila’s door and pretend you’re taking orders for Girl Scout cookies, recruiting for a sect, or rallying support for a demonstration tomorrow on Thurber Street to save the noble oaks of Oakland Heights.”

  Inez looked less than confident. “My parents are going to be so mad if I get shot. They have tickets for a performance at the college tomorrow afternoon, something about three oboes, a piccolo, and a mime. I’m supposed to go.”

  Caron stood up. “Wouldn’t you rather be killed in the line of duty?”

  “I guess so,” she said.

  I described Daphne as best I could, then said, “If you find her, persuade her to come back here. I can’t promise her that I won’t call the police, but I will listen to her story and do everything I can to help her.”

  “What if she demands to know where Skyler is?” asked Caron. “Do we lie about that and tell her he’s here?”

  “No, don’t lie,” I said. “You can, however, fudge. Tell her that if she cooperates, she’ll have the opportunity to see Skyler.”

  “Will she?”

  I looked up at Caron. “Yes, she will. You seem to have a low opinion of me these days.”

  Inez mumbled something and fled to the bathroom, leaving Caron in the middle of the room. She sat down on the sofa and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, Mother. I have a low opinion of myself these days.”

  “Even after you took out Rhonda Maguire with such an admirable coup de grace? You must have been chortling all afternoon.”

  “I would have been if I hadn’t heard about Daphne. All I could think about was Skyler and what was going to happen to him.” She glanced up with a rueful look. “A first for me, worrying about somebody else. I worry about you and Peter, but mostly because I don’t know what it’ll mean for me. Same thing with how the Book Depot is doing, profit-wise, so I can shop at the mall and go out for pizza with everybody. If I’ll know what to major in when I go to college. If Louis Wilderberry will ever notice me, which isn’t going to happen before the advent of the next millennium.”

  “If your father loved you?” I said carefully.

  “Well, that, too. Did he ever wish he could have put me in a basket and left me on the steps of a church? Did he even want me to be born?”

  “Of course, he did,” I said as I hugged her. “He was just ill-equipped to deal with fatherhood. Academia can be a narcotic as powerful as heroin. Your father wasn’t at the top of the hierarchy by any means, but there were plenty of warm bodies below him. When he walked into a lecture room, conversation stopped. All of his opinions were jotted down in notebooks in case they might require regurgitation on a test. Coeds in short skirts showed up during office hours to beg for a few minutes of his precious time.” I paused for a moment. “He lost his perspective. That doesn’t mean he didn’t love you, just that his priorities got screwed up.”

  “Did you know about his affairs?”

  “I was suspicious,” I said. “I didn’t know what to do about it, though, and I wasn’t making enough money from my assistantship to pay the rent. Getting a full-time job would have meant getting a full-time baby-sitter. I just looked the other way when he claimed he had to stay late for a meeting or attend a poetry reading at a cafe.”

  “Weren’t you terribly angry?” she whispered.

  “Yes, at times. Picking you up at the day-care center, bathing you, shoveling strained peas down your throat, reading and singing to you—all that was more meaningful to me.”

  “You can’t sing.”

  “I can, too,” I protested. “Want to hear the Motown version of‘Rockabye Blues’?”

  “In E-flat? I don’t think so.” She stood up again. “Inez and I will go poke around for Daphne. She may just be panhandling on Thurber Street.”

  “Watch for rubber sandals.”

  “You’d better watch out for Peter, Mother.”

  “Let’s hope that will be limited to the six o’clock news,” I said. After she and Inez left, I went into the kitchen to pour myself some scotch, then realized the empty bottle was in the garbage. Just as well, I thought, as I settled for orange juice and a plate of crackers and cheese.

  An hour later, Luanne called to say that she and Skyler had enjoyed their outing at the merchandising mecca of Farberville. I gave her an update, then asked if she would keep Skyler until Daphne was taken back into custody by the police or swooped up by Caron and Inez. Arnie might have offered odds, but it seemed like a tossup to me. In either case, it wouldn’t be circumspect for me to have Skyler in the apartment.

  “Sure,” she said. “We’ll slap together baloney sandwiches and watch old movies.”

  “Don’t let him watch anything too violent.”

  “Strictly Doris Day and Rock Hudson,” she assured me before promising to call in the morning.

  I was too distracted to do more than nibble a cracker as I paced within the limited confines of the apartment. Daphne most certainly had not had a gun in her possession when she fled from the courthouse—but she’d had one when she drove away from Oakland Heights. She could have tossed it out the car window, as Peter had suggested, or she could have stashed it somewhere, as he’d also suggested.

  When my legs began to protest, I sat down and dialed Sheila Armstrong’s number.

  “Hello?” she answered, her voice slurred.

  “This is Claire. Have you heard from Daphne today?”

  “I’ve already told you a dozen times today that I haven’t. Why do you insist on badgering me like this?”

  I wasn’t sure who she thought I was. “I’d really like to talk to her.”

  “I’m not granting interviews unless I get paid. Put your best offer on the table, whoever you are.”

  “And then you’ll tell me where she is?”

  “I gotta go. There are some girls at the door, probably selling magazines. Like I need magazines, ferchrissake!” she snapped, then hung up.

  I resumed pacing, and had done several hundred laps around the sofa when the telephone rang. Praying that Caron and Inez had not been arrested, I answered with a subdued, “Hello?”

  “Claire? Is this you?” said a breathless voice.

  “Yes, it is. Who’s this?”

  “Adrienne, silly. I wasn’t sure about your last name, so I’ve been trying all kinds of possibilities. There are a shocking number of vulgar peop
le in this town. I was even accused of being a telemarketer, if you can imagine. Do I sound like someone selling long-distance plans? I was so absolutely offended.”

  “Why are you calling me?” I asked, perplexed.

  “I’m not exactly calling you. I was wondering if Chantilly might be there.”

  I was glad I hadn’t had so much as a drop of scotch. “Why would Chantilly be here, Adrienne?”

  “I was just hoping,” she said as she began to sniffle. “She borrowed my car more than three hours ago to pick up a few items at the drugstore. She hasn’t come back, and I’m beginning to worry. You did hear about Daphne, didn’t you?”

  “I heard about her, but what does that have to do with Chantilly?”

  “Don’t sound angry with me, Claire. All these relatives of Anthony’s have been coming by all afternoon. If I’d known about his family, I would have thought twice about marrying him. They all look so, I don’t know, diseased. They kept insisting on squeezing my hand and kissing me until I thought I was going to throw up. Then this hideous man who’s supposedly an uncle cornered me in the dining room and had the audacity to put his hand on my …” She gulped several times. “Anyway, it was all I could do not to slap his greasy face. I’ve only been widowed for three days, and I deserve respect. You must have gone through this kind of thing.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “So why do you think Chantilly might be here?”

  “Because I can’t think of anywhere else she might be. She met a few of my Mends at the fitness center, but I don’t think she’d remember them. You were such a big help this morning.”

  “She might be on her way to Atlanta.”

  “She wouldn’t do that to me. Well, she would, but not without telling me. We’re very close. Just before she left, I told her how much I appreciated her staying until after the funeral. Both of us almost cried.”

  I could not envision ekher of them risking mascara madness. “What does this have to do with Daphne? She hasn’t shown up at your house, has she?”

  “Of course not. She knows perfectly well that the first thing I’d do is call the police. I’m convinced she came here to steal money. When she went into the office, dear, sweet Anthony was there, immersed as usual in paperwork. He came around his desk to reason with her, and she shot him. I’m not saying that she intended to do it The gun might have gone off by accident. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Anthony’s at the mortuary. He wanted to have more children, you know, especially a son to carry on the business. There’s a room upstairs that would have been perfect for a nursery, once we’d ripped down those posters. Only last week I called the decorator to bring out some wallpaper and fabric samples. I told her I wanted a nontraditional effect, earth tones but with a bit of whimsy.”

  “I’d be surprised if Chantilly remembers my last name, and I still don’t see why Daphne’s causing you concern.”

  “Some policemen came by to warn me that Daphne had escaped and might have a gun. They still don’t know where she is. In the meantime, I’m out here all by myself. I can’t believe Chantilly is doing this to me. She knows perfectly well that I’m on edge. There’s no one within shouting distance except for that peculiar person in the tree, and I can’t see her coming to my rescue if Daphne shows up, waving a gun and making accusations. Maybe I should call the police to report Chantilly as a missing person.”

  “Three hours isn’t the same as three days. She left voluntarily, and she may be doing nothing more than shopping at the mall for a scarf to wear tomorrow. The police won’t even take your report for forty-eight hours.”

  “Forty-eight hours?” Adrienne said, hitting a note that eluded many sopranos. “That means she won’t be here for the funeral! I cannot face all these people without support. You are coming, aren’t you, Claire? I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no. Yes, I do—I’ll call the whole thing off and check into a hotel under a false name. Then Sunday I’ll book a flight to Palm Springs and spend two weeks at a spa.”

  I felt as if I were trying to reason with the pigeons that pooped on the portico in front of the bookstore. “You have lots of Mends, Adrienne. Cling to Mary Margaret and let h«r fend off the lecherous uncle.”

  “Mary Margaret would just die if I asked her to do that. She had hysterics when we saw a groundhog on the sixteenth fairway last month. By the time she told the story in the bar, she was sure it was a bear cub and she’d heard the mother bear in the woods. Last week her husband had to come home from the office because she found a spider in the bidet. You have to do this for me, Claire, or wait in front of the church and tell everybody to go home.”

  “I was planning to come at ten o’clock to oversee the preparations. I won’t go to the funeral, but I suppose I can stay for the luncheon.”

  “Thank you so much! You’re the best friend I have. When things have settled down, you must let me take you to lunch to show my gratitude.”

  “We’ll see about that later,” I said, imagining myself eating a salad of field greens and arugula. Our conversation was likely to be limited to the weather, as long as we focused on its impact on her hair.

  “I don’t guess you could come out now and stay with me until Chantilly gets back? I realize the house is within the city limits, but it feels like it’s in some remote forest. Daphne could be hiding out there, watching the house and waiting for a chance to sneak inside. I’m already a nervous wreck, and it’s not even dark yet. We can heat up some of those casseroles people have been bringing and have a picnic in the living room. There’s all kinds of wine in the cellar. Oh, do come, Claire! It’ll be fun.”

  I started to tell her it was impossible because I didn’t have a car, but I didn’t want to pretend that was my sole impediment and have her insist on picking me up in Anthony’s car. “I can’t do it tonight. Chantilly’s likely to show up any minute with bags from the mall. If you’re worried about Daphne, lock the doors.”

  “What if she still has a key?”

  “If you hear her come inside, lock yourself in your bedroom and call 911.”

  “We don’t have to eat the casseroles. There are at least half a dozen cakes and pies in the refrigerator, and Anthony stashed away all kinds of gourmet ice cream in the back of the freezer where he thought I wouldn’t find it. The doctor was constantly on his case about his cholesterol, and I did everything I could to control his diet. He always stayed up later than I did, and I’d hear him easing open the freezer door like a naughty littie boy. I didn’t want to be a nag, though, so I never said anything to him. He never criticized me about spending so much time at the fitness center, and he didn’t mind that we went out to dinner every night, since I can’t cook anything more complicated than toast. That was why our marriage was so happy.”

  “Good-bye, Adrienne. I’ll be at your house when you get back from the cemetery.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said sulkily. “I don’t know what time that will be. Reverend Simpleton has refused to fast-forward through even one tiny prayer or homily. Everybody better bring an umbrella.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” I said, and hung up.

  Caron and Inez came slinking back an hour later, annoyed at their lack of success. We were all thinking of Skyler as I fixed macaroni and cheese, adorned it with slightly brown lettuce, and suggested we watch the local news.

  “So we can hear what?” said Caron.

  “We don’t know what’s been happening,” I said. “Daphne might have been found and taken back into custody.”

  “Yeah, if they implanted a chip with a homing device. We looked everywhere, Mother. Inez even went inside the pool hall on Thurber Street. I would have gone with her, but I had to double-park outside in case we needed to retreat.”

  “I did not enjoy it,” said Inez. “It had a nasty smell, and all of the patrons had excessive body hair and tattoos. Several of them are probably featured on those‘most wanted’ shows. If they’re not, they should be.”

  Caron curled her lip at the macaroni and cheese. “What’s
your mother cooking?” she asked Inez.

  “This layered thing with lentils and leeks.”

  “Leeks or leaches?”

  “Leeks. They’re like—”

  “I know what leeks are,” Caron said scathingly. “Let’s go to the pizza place and see if Rhonda dares show her face. Do you have any money?”

  “I’ll give you some money,” I said, relieved that she was willing to be seen in public after a very difficult week. “If Rhonda’s there, you’d better not turn your back on her.”

  “She’s more likely to be rigging a bomb in Waylan’s pickup truck. He told a couple of guys on the football team that she’d been hitting on him and begged him to take her to the dance at the end of the semester. Come on, Inez. We’ll get a large pepperoni with leeks.”

  I handed over a reasonable amount of cash and turned on the news as they thudded down the back stairs. Jessica was in the studio, indicative that there were no latebreaking stories to be shared with her faithful viewers.

  “Good evening, and thanks for turning to KFAR, your hometown news station. As many of you know, there was chaos at the courthouse today, when Daphne Armstrong escaped from custody while awaiting arraignment.” She related the earlier events, then added, “The authorities have acknowledged that they are still searching for the fugitive, who is thought to have changed into inconspicuous clothing and may be armed. No one from the police department agreed to be interviewed on the air, and repeated calls from KFAR have not been returned. Our sources tell us that tomorrow the county prosecutor will hold a press conference shortly after Anthony Armstrong’s funeral. Daphne Armstrong’s mother is in seclusion at her home on Willow Street.”

  “What about the widow of Anthony Armstrong?” asked Jessica’s coanchor, pretending they weren’t reading off the same TelePrompTer. “Has she issued a statement?”

  Jessica’s eyes glinted for a nanosecond. “Adrienne Arm-strong has said through the family lawyer that she is deeply distressed by everything that has taken place in the last three days, and prays that Daphne will turn herself in before anyone else is harmed. Although she declined to speak to the media, she has been cooperating with the authorities.”