Up the Devil's Belly

by Rhett DeVane

  Two indistinct figures stood at the end of his bed. The one with the tall yellow-tinted beehive hairdo laced with daisy blossoms smirked at him and shook her head.

  “Tsk Tsk…You’ve been a very bad boy, Hanky,” the familiar voice said.

  He shifted his gaze slightly to study the second figure. The elderly black woman seemed less sure of her surroundings. She glanced around the room as if she didn’t know exactly why she was there. He recognized the aged features – Grandma Maizie. What was she doing here?

  A third figure, a young woman, stepped out from behind the other two. Her eyes were compassionate, yet so full of sadness. Hank struggled to recall. The face was so familiar. “Mama?” He reached his right arm toward the figure.

  “Mr. Henderson? Are you all right?” Jennifer Smythe asked as she fitted the blood pressure cuff on the upper part of his arm.

  To the left of the three women, a fourth ominous shape took form. The hardened, stern face of Hank’s father came into full focus.

  “Stay away from me!” he yelled. “Don’t touch me!” Hank pawed the air and grabbed the nurse’s arm.

  “Let me go get the doctor, Mr. Henderson. Please let go of my arm!”

  Hank gripped Jennifer Smythe’s arm tightly as the ethereal figures circled the bed like vultures closing in for a fresh road-kill meal.

  His blurred gaze rested on the small daisy-shaped clasp that held the stethoscope to the front of the nurse’s uniform. Hank grabbed for the daisy, then circled his hands around Jennifer Smythe’s neck and squeezed. As the nurse struggled to defend herself, she managed to snatch the emergency call pull. Within seconds, the hall door flew open and several staff members rushed into the room.

  With the help of two aides, a second nurse, and the police officer stationed outside the door, Hank Henderson was subdued, sedated, and placed in restraints.

  “You don’t get to choose your family. God sets that up for you. But, you do get to choose your friends, and they become your family. I like some of my friends better’n the folks I hooked up with because of blood and marriage ties. It’s a sad feller, indeed, what doesn’t have a friend.”

  Piddie Longman

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The Hill: Hattie

  She’s a brick shy of a full load. He’s coming in on one engine. She’s lost her marbles. His elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. She doesn’t have both oars in the water. He’s as crazy as a bedbug. Her lights are on, but nobody’s home. The shelf life on his medication’s run out. She’s not playing with a full deck. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.

  I had often wondered if folks from a town without a mental institution on the main drag had grown up with as many euphemisms for mental illness. The citizens of Chattahoochee were accustomed to seeing the effects of brain dysfunction, from the mild cases of delusion and paranoia in the hospital residents who freely wandered into the Washington Street shops, to the faceless screams of the firmly controlled patients ensconced behind the gray-screened windows.

  Hank Henderson’s sudden descent into his demon-filled reality shocked everyone. People huddled over cups of coffee at the Homeplace, chatted at the hardware store counter, and ruminated at length in the hair salon at the Triple C. How could someone they thought they knew so well and saw every day – a man who handled Aunt Edna’s will, for heaven’s sake – be stark raving mad? As the sordid details of Hank’s undercover business endeavors came to light, the combination of shock and the shame of harboring such a person in the midst of Chattahoochee respected society kept all of us searching for answers.

  The bedside radio alarm clock read 1:30 AM in glowing green numerals. The inside of my eyelids felt like sandpaper disks burnishing my tired eyes. My body ached with exhaustion, but someone forgot to tell my brain. It was going full tilt.

  “Come over here.” Holston turned on to his back and patted his chest. I rolled over and molded to his body, cocooned and warm in the circle of his arms. He lightly kissed my forehead. “Can’t sleep?”

  “Nope.”

  “Neither can I.”

  I snuggled into his smooth chest. “I can’t stop thinking about this whole thing with Hank Henderson. Could we have stopped it, somehow?”

  Holston sighed deeply. “I don’t know.”

  “I mean, we had suspicions, but that’s all they were. I guess everyone was just too intimidated by him to make accusations without solid proof.”

  “Especially in this day and age. A slander suit would’ve popped up immediately, particularly with him being an attorney.”

  “It makes me worry, Holston. It’s not enough that we have the whole terrorist issue, now we have to watch each other, too. What if it was Sarah who fell under someone’s evil eye? Would we know? Could we keep her safe? If sick people masquerade as law-abiding citizens, how can we tell who to watch out for?”

  “I’m sure every parent in this town’s asking themselves the same questions right now.” He stroked my hair. “Sarah has two loving parents, and, I daresay…she’s safer over here than lost amidst the discarded children at the orphanage.”

  “I suppose. Another thing that’s getting to me — I just hate the idea that Maizie died suspecting that she’d failed to keep her grandchildren from harm’s way.”

  “I can’t help believe but there’s a deeper understanding on the other side,” Holston answered in a soft voice.

  I listened intently. Holston seldom spoke of his spiritual beliefs.

  “I’m sure she knows she tried to do her best by them. Without her, they would have been fending for themselves on the street in some drug-infested neighborhood, or selling to support their mother’s habit.”

  I was silent for a moment. The sound of Holston’s steady heartbeat provided a catharsis for worry. “Don’t you wonder why Hank did all the terrible things he did?”

  “Rough childhood, maybe…underlying mental instability. Who knows?”

  “I’m glad Sarah and I are teamed up with you. God, Holston. Let us keep our daughter safe.”

  “Since the terrorist attacks, I’ve begun to think our sense of safety is an illusion.” He was quiet for a moment. “We’ll do the best we can, Hattie.”

  Triple C Day Spa and Salon

  Elvina rolled up her morning copy of the Tallahassee Democrat and chunked it into the magazine rack. “Well, Chattahoochee’s back on the map, again. It’s not enough for us to be infamous for beatin’ up an innocent gay man, now we’ve harbored an international pornography king-pin in our town. I su-wanee!”

  Mandy swept the tendrils of hair around the base of the stylist chair into a small mound and collected them in a dustpan. The gray and blond pile of curls reminded her of an aging Pekinese. “One thing in our favor this go ’round — the press is so busy with all the terrorist news that we probably won’t be overrun with reporters like we were after Jake’s attack.”

  “Yeah, well…I still get so fired up when I think on it, I can hardly see straight!”

  Elvina stood to return to the front desk. “Do you know when Wanda’ll be back in?”

  “Dunno for sure. I betcha she’ll be out the rest of the week, what with Miz Maizie’s funeral and all.”

  “Is Tameka still stayin’ with her?”

  “Far as I know. Maizie has a son, James, who’s drivin’ down with his family. I’m not sure if Wanda’s going to put in to have them all stay with her. She has a pretty good amount of room at her house, and it might be easier on Tameka to stay there ’till after the services.”

  “Is James goin’ to take the kids back with him, you suppose?”

  Mandy chased a herd of miniature dust bunnies across the counter. “I think it’ll be best for them, don’t you? I mean, maybe it’ll be easier for both of them to put it all behind them if they’re living up there in Birmingham.”

  “That’s assumin’ the police can find Moses,” Elvina said. She blew out an exhalation of air. “Lordy, what a tangled mess.”

  Melody swished into
the room. “Anybody called for me yet this mornin’?”

  “Just one. I set Maybelle Peters up for a manicure at ten. She said to tell you to be on time. She’s got to leave for an appointment in Tallahassee right after.”

  Melody shucked her oversized canvas purse and shoved it underneath the manicure table. “Jeeze, that woman! I was ten minutes late starting on her one time, and you’d’a thought it was an hour! You better believe I’ll be ready for her from now on — just so I don’t have to hear it. What else has been goin’ on this mornin’?”

  Mandy shrugged. “Not much. I’ve done a couple of cut and styles. Wanda’s still out, and Steph’s not due in till around eleven.”

  “Coffee’s on in the kitchen, if you want to juice yourself up before Maybelle gets here,” Elvina said.

  “Got any Jack Daniels I can spike it with?” Melody laughed. “That’d help me get through the appointment, for sure. I know she’ll want to talk about all this business with Hank.” She sighed. “It just makes me sick inside when I have to hear it.”

  Elvina leaned over. “You know anything new?”

  “Only that they caught up with Alfonso Williams. He was hidin’ out over in Marianna with some cousins of his. I guess he’d decided to try and leave the state. His motorcycle broke down close to a truck stop near Chipley, and a local sheriff saw it and ran the tag, and they caught up with him. I heard he’s singin’ like a bird now about all he knows of Hank’s business and…”

  “Don’t stop now, sugar. Do tell! You know you can trust us to keep a secret.” Elvina winked at Mandy from the eye Melody couldn’t see from her vantage point.

  “Well, I reckon it’ll all come out in the papers in a few days, anyways, but you didn’t hear it from me. J.T.’d be furious if he found out I let on like I knew the inside scoop.”

  “Datin’ a cop has its privileges, hon,” Wanda said. “He knows good and well you can’t keep it to yourself. For one thing…it’s news. For another, it’s not healthy to keep it bottled up inside. You’ll blow up!” Mandy cut her eyes toward Elvina, who nodded in agreement.

  Melody pulled a director’s chair over to the hair salon side of the room and continued in a low voice. “There’s more dirt fixin’ to come out on this case.” She glanced around to make sure the three of them were alone. “Seems Hank’s cousin, Lamar — he’s a deputy over in Midview — he’s been stealin’ stuff out of the evidence room, gettin’ it over to Hank, and then, Alfonso’s been selling it on the street.”

  “Whoop!” Elvina slapped her thigh. “This is a scandal with a capital S!”

  “And,” Melody continued, “the FBI’s in town. They’ve confiscated some videotapes from the back of Hank’s car, and also, his computer. There’s a boatload of contact information stored on it. This could be an international thing with those porno tapes.”

  “Lawd have mercy.” Elvina jabbed a bony finger in the air. “All, right here, smack dab under our noses!”

  “Another thing, they found all kinds of fake ID’s, a birth certificate, and credit cards in Hank’s luggage in the trunk of his car. He was gettin’ ready to skip town and take on a whole new identity. There’s off shore bank accounts and organized crime connections. It’s a royal-tee mess!”

  “I feel a book coming on for Holston to write,” Mandy said. “Does the press know all of this yet?”

  “They will, most likely soon. Alfonso’s turned state’s evidence, tryin’ to save his sorry hide. I’m sure the newspapers and TV will just jump all over this.”

  “I can’t help but to feel a little bad for Alfonso,” Mandy said.

  Elvina’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? He’s a delinquent! Has been for years!”

  “I’m sure he had more opportunities with Hank leading him. In a lot of ways, he’s as big a victim as all the kids Hank’s used for his video tapes.”

  “That kid’s been evil seed as long as I can remember.” Elvina pursed her lips. “Maybe he’ll be able to turn his life around. Who knows?”

  Mandy drummed her fingernails on the counter. “By the way, Melody dear, did you eat the leftover piece of Jon’s lasagna I was saving for myself?”

  “You know I didn’t,” Melody said. “I’m on a diet. Besides, I knew you wanted it, so I wouldn’t have touched it for the world.”

  “Unless you turned your back for a minute,” a deep voice broke in. J.T. Smathers, deputy, Chattahoochee Police Department, stood at the entrance to the hair salon.

  “J.T.!” Melody fingered her blonde curly hair nervously. “How long you been there?”

  “Just a second or two. I was wonderin’ if I might squeeze myself in for a quick trim, Miz Mandy.”

  “Sure thing, officer.” Mandy patted the seat of her stylist chair. “Sit yourself down.”

  His leather gun belt squeaked as he settled into her chair. “I do so much appreciate this. Melody keeps threatin’ to get the hedge trimmers out and take after me. I just haven’t had a chance to stop by and make an appointment. It’s been pretty busy, here lately.”

  “I can imagine.” Mandy ran her fingers through J.T.’s thinning hair. “Want the usual?”

  “Do the best you can. There’s less ever’ day for you to work with. I just can’t fathom what makes a hair decide to just up and fall out, when it was perfectly happy to be on my head the day before.”

  “What you doin’ this mornin’, honey?” Melody asked.

  J.T. sighed. “I’m on the way to stop by y’alls’ back yard neighbor’s house. Zelda Bunch swears someone’s stealin’ off her outside clothesline again. Actually, this time it’s blankets, plus a tarpaulin off her wood pile.”

  Mandy shook her head. “What a fruitcake. She probably saw some of the government-type men uptown, and it got her all riled up again. The FBI and CIA desperately need old lady blankets, you know.” Mandy chuckled. “I’ll just betcha one of them G-men is usin’ Zelda’s tarp to cover his car up at night!”

  J.T. grinned. “Yeah, she generally gets fired up a mite when things are unsettled. This terrorist stuff has given her a whole new set of things to get paranoid about.”

  Jake flitted through the salon carrying a fresh bouquet of daisies. “Hey, all! Mandy, Melody, Elvina, Officer J.T.!” He stopped mid-stride and struck a pose, his left hand propped coquettishly on his hip. “I do so love a man in a uniform.”

  J.T. raised one eyebrow. “Careful, Jake. I’ll rat you out to Shug.”

  “A girl can’t even harmlessly flirt in this town!” Jake snorted. “Y’all had any leads on Moses?”

  “Afraid not. We don’t think he had access to any money to speak of, so we’re pretty sure he’s hidin’ out around here somewhere, or he might’ve caught a ride out of town.”

  “Most of the local truckers I know wouldn’t pick up a boy young as Moses without askin’ some questions,” Mandy said, “unless he made it all the way out to the Interstate.”

  “J.T. says Zelda’s on the rampage again, Jake. The government’s stealin’ her stuff,” Elvina said.

  “Poor old woman. Maybe I’ll take her some fresh flowers, take her mind off everything. What have the aliens — or the FBI — taken from her this time?”

  “A tarp and two blankets,” J.T. answered.

  Jake left the room briefly to place the daisy arrangement in the formal waiting room, then returned to the salon. “We all know that’s just some kids buildin’ a fort somewhere in the woods. Same thing happens every year about this time. The kids like to act like they’re campin’ out and huntin’ deer like their daddies. Heck, I used to have forts all over the woods behind the house here…not that I ever acted like I wanted to shoot poor defenseless animals for fun.”

  “You were just hidin’ from your mama,” Elvina said.

  Jake nodded. “Well…yeah.”

  Elvina rolled her eyes. “Sugar, if my mama had’a been Betsy Lou Witherspoon, I’da built a castle with an alligator-filled moat in the woods.”

  “Careful, Elvina. You wouldn’t want Mama’s ghos
t to come back to haunt this place, now would you?”

  “Especially since Piddie’s already here. It could get crowded.” Mandy added. “Well, there you go, sir.” She dusted a large talc-filled brush across J.T.’s neck to remove stray hair.

  “Thanks, Mandy. What do I owe you?”

  Mandy patted him on the shoulders. “Call this one — on the house. It’s the least I can do for you calming Zelda down before she works herself into a high rollin’ boil.”

  J.T. stood and straightened his gun belt. “I’ll catch y’all later on. See you at the house after work, Mel?”

  Melody stretched on to her tiptoes to deliver a quick kiss to his cheek. “I should be home after five.”

  “I got up to get back to work a half-hour ago,” Elvina said. “Y’all are a bad influence on me.” She hurried off toward the front desk.

  “We surely twisted your arm, Elvina!” Mandy called out.

  Jake shook his head in irritation when he spotted the teetering stack of dirty coffee cups on the kitchen counter.

  “Gah! I’m glad Jon and I will have our own place in a few weeks!” He filled the sink with hot soapy water and dumped the crusty dishes in to soak.

  His leg ached with a pulse of its own. Maizie’s funeral was a day away, and the memorial arrangement orders were rolling in. He and Jolene barely had time to stop to call out for lunch and take a few bathroom breaks. The casket drape, Jake’s donation to the service, was nearly complete. Tomorrow morning, he’d add the yellow and white rosebuds before transporting the drape to the funeral home.

  Though she was nearing seventy and had turned the majority of business over to the Dragonfly Florist, Minnie Blue at Silver Moon Flowers had been able to handle a number of the floral orders. Maizie Clark had lived in Chattahoochee most of her life. Though she claimed little in the way of material possessions, she had a wealth of friends.

  Jake had seen both extremes in the years he’d worked with floral design. Some funerals were sparsely attended, the only flowers being on the casket drape. Others saw an outpouring of love and compassion so copious; the floral arrangements were barely contained in the allotted space near the casket. In the last few years, many families requested charitable donations in lieu of flowers. Still, the traditional salute to the family remained a popular way to show support and warm wishes for the bereaved. At last count, Maizie had received fifty arrangements, enough to fill the front of the small Morningside AME church and spill into the adjacent fellowship hall.