Green poop. Brownie thought about it. That was an interesting side effect of the Motley Blue he’d put into the lemonade.
“I don’t think so,” Laz said. “Listen, I called Miz Demetrice. She’ll hook us up, and we’ll give him back.”
“I think mebe we should go drop him off now,” Tom said.
Brownie frowned. It was possible he had gone overboard. He wasn’t ready to return to Snoddy Mansion. Step Three had not yet been achieved. After all, it’s not just step three, it’s Step Three. No, STEP THREE. No, ***STEP THREE***!!!!
“Lemme go to the bathroom,” Laz said. “All this nonsense has made me loose as a goose who done et a package of Ex-lax.”
Brownie heard footsteps and a door slamming. Tom wandered into the kitchen, and Brownie heard Tayla ask, “You want some tuna, Tom?”
“Tuna?” Tom repeated in what Brownie perceived as a stupid manner.
“A gal cain’t go wrong with tuna,” Tayla said cheerfully.
“Ain’t tuna seafood?” Tom asked.
Suddenly Laz shrieked, and Tom and Tayla became silent.
“My tushie exploded!” Laz yelled. “I sat down on the toilet and everything popped! I got blood on me! I got…”
Taco Bell Fire Sauce, Brownie thought. You put about ten of them under the toilet seat and hope the next person sits down instead of raising the lid. I guess it might seem like something exploded.
“I got…” Laz repeated. “Um.”
More footsteps pounded down the hall. “What in hellfire and brimstone is wrong with you?” Tayla demanded as she stood outside of the bathroom.
“Nothing, Ma,” Laz said weakly. “Just Tom playing a little trick on me. Ain’t funny, Tom.”
“I dint…” Tom said and trailed off feebly. “Yeah, sorry, Laz. It won’t happen again.”
“And for the love of tap-dancing Jesus Christ,” Tayla said, “why did you two go and duct tape all of your furniture to the ceiling? Is that my good duct tape? I was saving that to make a duct tape tote bag! Dang it!”
* * *
“MA!” Bubba called when he got back to the Snoddy Mansion.
Everything echoed emptily. It was probably because it was empty.
Precious scrambled in the front door behind Bubba, followed by Bogie. She nipped at the younger dog and shot toward the kitchen where the food and water were located. Bogie correctly ascertained he was being outclassed and gave chase.
After Bubba intuited that he was basically alone, he went to get himself an RC Cola and a moon pie. A man couldn’t go wrong with RC Cola and moon pies. Well, a man could go wrong with an RC Cola and moon pies but only if a man drank and ate too many RC Colas and moon pies respectively. Bubba had a personal best of three colas and nine pies. But he’d paid dearly for it the following day.
He sat at the table in the kitchen and tried not to think about whether or not Brownie had access to RC Colas and moon pies. After a few drinks and two and a half bites, Bubba didn’t want anymore.
Miz Adelia came in the back door with two bags of groceries and cast Bubba a look.
“He’p you?” he asked.
“I got it, boy,” she said. “Did the phone ring? Your ma went to the bank before it closed, and I was supposed to answer the phone, but I forgot some of the groceries in the car, and it ain’t done to let perishables sit in a hot car.”
Bubba shook his head. “Why did Ma go to the bank?”
“She went to get the ransom money,” Miz Adelia said. She put the bags on the counter and began to put things away.
“The kidnappers called?”
“They did, and she talked them down to $5000,” Miz Adelia said. “Apparently there’s a sale on Brownies.” Then she couldn’t help herself. She giggled unenthusiastically.
“Do you remember Ma buying some shoes?”
Miz Adelia paused with a carton of milk in one hand. “Shoes? She got some peep toes last month. Brother Jacob properly chastised your ma in front of the congregation last Sunday when she wore them. Said pink toenails weren’t appropriate for services. Although he dint say it to Miz Demetrice until after the collection plate passed by.” She shook her head sadly.
“Athletic shoes,” Bubba said. He pushed the cola and pie away from him. The pie looked like it was a smile that had been bitten into two pieces. As if on cue, Precious nudged his knee from beneath the table, somehow discerning with a sixth doggy sense that food was being wretchedly neglected. He wondered if moon pies were bad for dogs.
“You mean like the one the dog chewed all to hell,” Miz Adelia said and put the milk in the refrigerator.
“That’s right.”
“I seem to recollect Miz Demetrice buying some shoes for a charity event,” Miz Adelia said. “That was the week that my mother was having the last of her chemotherapy, so I don’t recall the details.”
“What did she do with the shoes?”
Miz Adelia paused with her hand on a can of green beans. “I’m thinking about it. I ain’t bin sleeping very good of late, and your mother has so many things that she does.” She waved the green beans around as if it would prompt her memory. “They dint go to the orphanage.” Bubba’s eyes followed the green beans. The can was nearly hypnotic. “They dint go to the soldiers’ home.” The can went left. So did Bubba’s eyes. “They dint go to the mental institute.”
“They came from the thrift shop that the mental institute runs,” Bubba said.
The can went to Miz Adelia’s lips, and she almost chewed on the aluminum edge in thought. “Did you ever consider that for such a small town we have a lot of ‘homes’ and such?”
“No.”
Miz Adelia slammed the can onto the counter. “I remember now. Miz Demetrice has taken an interest in the penal system.” Her brown eyes came to rest on Bubba. “On account that her only son seems to wander in and out of the local jail as if it had revolving doors upon it.”
“Ain’t my fault,” Bubba said automatically. “I dint kill no one.” He would have shuffled his feet on the floor if he had been standing.
“Anyway,” Miz Adelia said, “she noticed that some of them fellas got nothing when they leave, whether they is guilty or not. So she got together some clothing, gift cards, and such to give the ones who are needy.”
“Shoes, too,” Bubba said.
“Shoes, too,” Miz Adelia said. She put the green beans into the pantry. “You know, these Green Giant Kitchen Sliced Green Beans were only 98¢!!!. Brownie loves green beans.” She wiped the back of her hand against her eyes.
“No, he doesn’t. He hides them in his napkin and throws them away later,” Bubba said. If Miz Adelia started crying about Brownie, Bubba might have to do something about it. Something unmanly. He loved Miz Adelia, but he couldn’t stand it when a woman started to cry. “I suppose Tee Gearheart passes out Ma’s little gift packages.” Tee Gearheart was the very large, very humble jailor in charge of the Pegram County Jail.
“I reckon.”
However, as hard as Bubba tried, he could not track Tee down that evening. He even drove over and discovered that Tee and his wife had left town for a few days, and no one had the telephone number or the name of who it was they had taken their young son to visit.
Bubba was momentarily stumped.
* * *
Brownie observed Laz and Tom as they tried to be unobtrusive about their search for possible pranks-to-be. While Tayla watched Two and a Half Men and used her swollen fingers to latch hook a rug in which a puppy was dressed as Elvis, the two men tried to cut Brownie off at the knees.
I ain’t that easy, Brownie thought. Laz commandeered all of the duct tape that was left. (There wasn’t much.) Tom confiscated the Taco Bell Fire Sauce packets. Laz checked the ice cube trays in the freezer while Tom poured the blue lemonade down the kitchen drain. Brownie heard Tom mutter, “I don’t believe there’s any blueberries in this lemonade at all.”
Laz checked all of the Oreo cookies by sticking his finger in the cream of every solitary cook
ie. “I ain’t eating those now,” Tom said. Laz sighed and threw the packages away. He glared at Brownie, and Brownie smiled broadly at him.
“Say,” Tayla said, “do we have any more of that bouillabaisse left? The one Uncle Roy Burt brought?”
“Shore, Ma,” Laz said and took a plastic container out of the freezer. “You want me to microwave it?”
“Please do,” Tayla said. She glanced at Brownie, although it was difficult to say where her eyes were directed on account of the puffiness. “I done et a sammy earlier, and my stomach is turning over now. I’m not exactly hungry, but I’d like to get some of that stew in there to settle it down.”
Isn’t bouillabaisse made from fish? Brownie wondered. Miz Adelia had made bouillabaisse the first night he’d come to Texas, and it had been rather fishy.
Laz and Tom finally gave up and came into the living area to partake of the comedic genius that was Charlie Sheen. “Hey, where’s my chair?” Laz asked, looking around.
There was a brown cube of material sitting on the coffee table that was about six inches by six inches by six inches. Brownie casually tapped it with his finger. Laz’s eyes came to rest on it and went very wide. The kidnapper’s mouth opened and then shut.
Com-pac-tor.
* * *
Laz and Tom waited until Tayla took another one of the pills and went to sleep. Then Laz tossed Brownie over his shoulder and carried him out while Tom scrambled behind them.
Brownie started to say, “Hey—” when Laz cut him off. “You’re going home, boy,” Laz growled. “No arguing about it. We’ll just drop you off down the road from the Snoddy Mansion, and you can walk the rest of the way.”
They carted him down to the van, and when Laz started the vehicle, it made a horrible whistling moan as it roared to life. Laz turned it off immediately. Then he started it again.
“Jesus,” Tom said. “It sounds like it’s wailing. Hawww. It’s like something is out to get us. Hawww. I think it’s the fickle hand of fate or death or God or something. Hawww. Punishing us because of the boy. Hawww. Hawww. Hawww! Where’s my inhaler? Hawww. I swear I won’t kidnap-hawww-no more little boys, no matter-hawww-how much money’s to be had.”
Brownie pulled the inhaler from his pocket and handed it to Tom.
Laz turned and looked at Brownie. Brownie shrugged. Laz got out of the van and went around the back. A moment later the whistling abruptly stopped. Laz climbed back in and threw the clump of duct tape onto the floor in between the two front seats. The whistle that had been held in place by the duct tape on the exhaust pipe broke free and skittered away into the back.
Tom used his inhaler. Afterwards, he said, “It was a whistle? Duct taped to…the exhaust pipe?” He turned to look at Brownie. Brownie grinned.
“We’re taking him back now!” Laz thundered. “Shishkabob McCandless never said nothing about kidnappings being like this!”
“What about the money?” Tom demanded.
“Miz Demetrice can owe us!” Laz snarled.
Chapter 11
Friday, November 15th
Brownie Attempts to Conclude His Evil Plan
The sun was shining. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the sky. Laz and Tom had inadvertently given Brownie just the opportunity he needed to finish his pièce de résistance. He was tired because he had walked three miles in the dark to get back to the junkyard, and he had worked well into the night, but it was totally worth the effort.
After all, a boy didn’t get kidnapped every day. (At least most boys didn’t. Brownie did like to think he wasn’t most boys.)
Brownie poured coffee into two mugs and very nicely set them at the table all the while whistling “You Are My Sunshine.”
Tayla sat in one chair and sipped the herbal tea he’d made for her. “Your mama don’t know what she’s missing,” she said appreciatively. It was somewhat difficult to understand because Tayla was more swollen up today than she had been the day before. Every once in a while she would itch absently at her chenille robe. Then she would go at it a little harder, like a hound dog with a particularly voracious tick.
“Eggs, pancakes, or both?” Brownie asked politely.
“I got up in the middle of the night and finished off that bouillabaisse,” Tayla said. “Them pills the doctor prescribed help, but I don’t feel so hot this morning.”
Brownie leaned forward and examined the raised, angry patches on Tayla’s cheeks. The hives were worse, too. One on her face resembled an image of Mary Magdalene. Brownie thought it best if he didn’t bring up that particular fact. “Mebe you shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “All that fish in the stew, you know.”
“But it tastes so danged good. Uncle Roy Burt makes tremendous bouillabaisse. He catches everything himself. He owns a fishing boat and lives down to Port Arthur. You should try his crab boil.”
Brownie scratched the side of his face sympathetically. He sat down at the table and began drinking the milk he had poured for himself. He heard a door open and Laz say, “Get up, Tom. Days a-breakin’, times a-wastin’.”
Tom said through his door, “I dreamed about that kid last night. Hawww. I woke up in a cold sweat. Have you looked outside for the po-lice? Hawww. Hawww. Hawww. Where’s my inhaler?”
“Why in tarnation would the po-lice be around here?” Tayla demanded loudly.
“Um, no reason, Mama,” Laz said.
“You boys ain’t bin up to nogoodnik again?” Tayla asked loudly. “Do you know how shameful it is to go to church on Sunday when folks have relatives from Nacogdoches? When you wrecked them power lines, you nearly caused three people to have cardiac arrests, Lazarus Octavius Berryhill. There’s three folks in church who bring it up every single solitary time I see them.” She tried to mimic someone by raising her voice, but the inflammation was definitely having an impact. “‘How’s that boy of yours, Miz Berryhill? Hit anymore power lines? Cause anymore outages and heart attacks?’” Her voice went back to its normal bloated slur. “Your grandmother is probably rolling in her grave right now!”
“Grandma ain’t dead,” Laz called back.
“That’s because no one wants to pull the plug!” Tayla yelled back.
“We ain’t done nothing…much,” Laz yelled back.
“What did you do?” Tayla demanded. She waved a hand in front of her face as if she was suddenly very warm.
Brownie blinked. Tayla’s lips looked like she had visited the kind of doctor that injects fat into them. And they were growing more and more. That couldn’t be good. Plus she looked a little green. He thought about it. She hadn’t eaten anything that he had made special additions to. Brownie didn’t really want to poison anyone by mistake. It was funny to do it to Laz and Tom. It was even funnier to watch Laz and Tom search for what Brownie might have done so that Tayla wouldn’t have it done to her and at the same time make sure Tayla didn’t know they were in the middle of a very large crime. But he didn’t really want to trick Tayla. She reminded him of Miz Demetrice. Once, Brownie had marked up Miz Demetrice’s face with Sharpies, and she had gotten her own back. He wouldn’t do that again. It would be bad for his health.
Laz walked out into the living room and immediately froze when he saw Brownie. It was not dissimilar to the moment when a tourist at Yellowstone walks into a meadow and encounters a grizzly bear. One’s natural inclination is to run like hell, but in this case, there was simply no other place to go. One should just lie on the ground and play dead and pray the bear had just eaten some other poor bastard. Brownie waved cheerfully.
“Oh, CHRIST!” Laz bellowed.
“Don’t you blaspheme in my house!” Tayla roared.
“Sorry, Ma,” Laz said.
Tom bumped into Laz’s back and peeked around the other man’s form. “Oh great horny toads of western Africa!” he screamed. “Hawww! Hawww! Hawww! I need my inhaler! He’s a demon imp! He’s come from hell to thwart us! He’s the devil’s minion! Hawww! Hawww! Hawww! Where’s my inhaler?”
Tayla had
her mouth open to yell again, but she stopped to listen to Tom’s words. “What in the blazes are you goin’ on about?”
Brownie held up the inhaler. Tom rushed over and grabbed it. He used it quickly and took in a deep breath. “I gotta go to church and confess,” he muttered.
“You ain’t Catholic,” Tayla said, “and what would you be confessing to?”
“Um,” Tom said, “I um, used the milk past the expiration date? I cheated on a test in the 9th grade and copied off Wilkie Barrens-hawww. I, uh, once took a nudie magazine from the Stop-and-Shop on Main Street. Hawww.”
“You know, I don’t feel very good,” Tayla announced. Brownie thought her eyes were beginning to cross but he really couldn’t tell.
“Your lips look a little…puffy, Ma,” Laz said, stepping closer.
Tayla abruptly fell over onto the floor. Laz and Tom stood still.
Brownie rolled his eyes and got up to help Tayla. “She’s still breathing,” he said, with his fingers at her throat. “She ate some more fish,” he added. “You’ll need to take her to Doc Goodjoint.”
Brownie looked up at Laz and Tom. “Now!” he added with emphasis. “She’s having an allergic reaction.”
Laz weakly shook his head. “We dropped you off last night,” he said, bending down to grasp one of his mother’s arms. “Tom, get her other arm.”
Brownie shrugged.
Laz got his mother around the waist and lifted her up. Tayla came to and said, “I shouldn’t have eaten the bouillabaisse.”
“I know, Ma. Doc Goodjoint will take care of it.”
“Hawww. Tuna fish neither,” Tom added. He wrapped Tayla’s other arm around his shoulders.
Brownie helpfully handed Laz the keys to the truck. Laz tucked them into a pocket and turned away, guiding his mother out the door. Brownie followed them out to the truck and waited while they loaded Tayla into the bench seat in the back of the extended cab of the pickup truck. Then he handed them the two mugs of coffee while Laz shot him a quick, suspicious look.
Tom asked, “But what if the kid escapes?”
Ransom of Brownie Page 11
