Maggody And The Moonbeams

by Joan Hess

  "I ain't prowlin'. Lester pays me ten dollars a week to make sure the local boys don't come scroungin' for parts for their trucks. Preacher Skinbalder pays me the same to walk around the church and watch for broken windows. Not more than a month ago, the little assholes made off with three televisions and a VCR. Miz Rutledge says she's gonna hire me if her watermelons start disappearing like they did the last two summers." He poked the barrel through a gap in the fence. "How do I know you ain't lookin' for an exhaust pipe."

  "I don't smoke," I said curtly. "Do you have a key to the gate?"

  "Ain't locked." He dragged it open and motioned at me to come out. "If you're a cop, where's your badge?"

  "At home in a drawer. You saw me earlier at the PD, for pity's sake."

  He lowered the shotgun. "Mebbe I did, but that don't mean you shouldn't pay a fine for trespassin', same as ever'body else. I'll let you go this time for five dollars, but it'll be ten if I catch you again."

  "Quite a little racket you have going," I said. "I hope you're not behind the thefts. You wouldn't have three televisions and a VCR in your barn, would you? Was that why you were so upset when you caught Duluth in there?"

  "If you know what's good for you, you'll be about your business."

  I make it a policy never to argue with those packing shotguns, rifles, handguns, crossbows, or even spatulas. I got into the station wagon and drove out of the lot before he decided for reasons of his own to blast out the rear windshield. Estelle would not take it well, and Harve most likely wouldn't pay for it.

  The café was brightly lit, but the parking lot was again uncrowded. Hoping that Chief Panknine had a charge account, I went in and sat down on a stool. The threesome in the corner might have been the ones I'd seen the day before, or Sunday pinch-hitters. Two teenaged boys eyed me, scattered change on the tabletop, and left. I did not warn them that Crank Nickle, aka 005, was on patrol.

  Rachael came out of the kitchen. "I heard it was Ruth who was killed," she said in a low voice. "We were damn scared when Anthony came out to tell us what happened. It could have been any of us."

  "Any of you?" I said curiously. "The popular theory is that Ruth's ex-husband killed her. Why would he have hurt someone else?"

  She turned around to pour a cup of coffee, then set it down in front of me. "I didn't mean him. It's just that we're women and children living in isolated cabins in the woods. The lodge was safer because we could lock the doors at night, but the cabins are wide open. Three days ago I took the afternoon off and went for a picnic with my kids down by the lake. It was getting dark before I could convince them to get out of the water and put on their shoes. I still get nervous sometimes."

  "Shouldn't you find moonlight comforting?"

  "I don't think moonlight's going to help much if some psycho comes charging out of the bushes with a baseball bat. We're used to drunks driving by, hollering and tossing beer cans all over the road."

  "When you and your children were at the lake, did you notice anybody else?"

  She thought for a moment. "A couple of geezers in a boat. They didn't look like they were having much luck. Then again, how would I recognize luck? I keep hoping someone's going to leave me a lottery ticket for a tip, and all of a sudden I'll have fifty million dollars in the bank. At the moment, I have twelve dollars in my pocket, and Judith will take most of it for bread and milk."

  "So Judith's in charge," I said as I took a sip of coffee. "I thought Deborah was."

  Rachael began to fiddle with the metal napkin holder. "We're not supposed to talk about her. I can't tell you how to get in touch with her because I don't know. There's no point in asking me any more questions. Ruth's dead and there's not a thing I can tell you!" She clamped down her lip until she regained her composure, then said, "You want to take a burger to the prisoner?"

  "You may have twelve dollars," I said in an effort to regain whatever smidgen of trust I'd begun to establish, "but I don't even have twelve cents. Maybe Corporal Robarts has access to a petty cash box."

  "Forget about it. The cook's gone on home, so I'll have to fix it. Wait here."

  I wasn't tempted to join those in the corner booth for a debate about dawgs and hawgs. I wandered over to the jukebox and ran my finger down the glass, noticing the selections were disturbingly similar to those found on the jukebox at Ruby Bee's Bar & Grill. A cardboard sign thumbtacked to the wall directed me to the restrooms in a short corridor next to the end of the counter. I took advantage of the opportunity to use the facilities, wash my hands, and inspect my face in a mottled mirror. I was operating on very little sleep, I reminded myself as I splashed water on my puffy eyes, and I wasn't going to make amends in a chair at the PD.

  I was back on a stool when Rachael emerged from the kitchen. She put down a brown bag and said, "Anything else?"

  Before I could answer, the pay phone rang. "Hold on," she said, then went around the corner and picked up the receiver. After a terse conversation, she came back. "Merle, that was your daughter. She said if you don't get home in fifteen minutes, she's gonna bury your Penthouse magazines in the compost pile. She might just do it this time."

  Merle shuffled to his feet, nodded at us, and hurried outside. After a minute, his compatriots followed.

  Rachael sighed. "I'm ready to lock up. Francine's used to cleaning up that particular booth when she comes in every morning. She's welcome to the fifteen-cent tip they leave."

  "I'll drive you to the campsite," I said.

  "You don't have to do that. I can walk, you know. I do it all the time, even when it's cold and wet."

  "But you don't have any reason to this evening. We'll have to swing by the PD to drop off the burger on the way." When she hesitated, I said, "I promise I won't ask you anything more about Deborah, okay?"

  "Yeah, okay." She took my coffee cup into the kitchen, turned off all the lights, and waited until I was outside to lock the door. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I guess I'm jumpy because of Ruth. I hope that ex-husband of hers spends the rest of his life in prison."

  I parked at the PD and asked her to wait. Bonita was nodding off, her face looking more and more as though she'd been hit by a freight train. Duluth, she told me, had been bellowing about how his civil rights were being violated, then calmed down. I gave her the bag and reminded her that Les had the key to the handcuffs and I had the key to the cell, so there wasn't a damn thing she could do even if a delegation from Amnesty International came through the door.

  "I'm going to run Rachael out to their cabins and make sure Anthony is there. As soon as I get back, you're headed for the torturous confines of Woantell Motel. You can write your own letter to Amnesty International in the morning."

  Rachael had pulled off her sandals and was massaging her feet as I got back into the car. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now," she said with a self-deprecatory laugh. "I was a third-grade teacher for fourteen years, so I spent a lot of the day standing in front of a blackboard."

  "And now you're a waitress."

  "I considered joining the army, but I don't look good in khaki."

  I did not mention that her present appearance wasn't all that alluring. "I promised that we wouldn't talk about Deborah, but I'm a little bit puzzled about some of Ruth's actions. Are you going to fling yourself out of the car if I ask you?"

  "There's not much I can tell you. Ruth was a bitch. Maybe it wasn't her fault, but it wasn't ours, either, and we're the ones who had to put up with her. That's why I didn't say anything when…"

  "When she made a couple of telephone calls from the café?"

  "Making calls was against the rules. We knew it before we ever arrived here. Sure, I've been tempted to call my mother and let her know we're safe."

  "Safe from what?"

  "The big bad world. We have adequate shelter and meals. The children are keeping up with their schoolwork. Before I started at the café, I sat down with Naomi and we individualized lesson plans for every child. I thought you wanted to know about Ruth."

/>   "So she broke the rule?"

  "Tuesday or Wednesday, I think. She came by late in the afternoon, asked for iced tea, then ducked around the corner. Guess she thought I wouldn't notice-or if I did, I wouldn't say anything to Judith."

  I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. "Who'd she call?"

  "Her mother, for one. About all she said was that she was all right and would be leaving shortly. Then she called somebody else and asked him to bring her some cash. It couldn't have been her ex-husband, could it? He'd be the last person she'd call."

  "You didn't hear any details?"

  "No, Merle put a quarter in the jukebox, then Anthony came out of the men's room and said the toilet was backed up again, and Francine started screaming because she saw a mouse run behind the refrigerator. One of these days she's going to set out the garbage and have a heart attack when she sees rats the size of raccoons."

  "Did you know that Ester made long-distance calls while she was working for Willetta Robarts?"

  She looked down at the floorboard. "A while back, whenever, Anthony came by the café and offered me a ride home. He told me Ester'd called a number in Florida several times, and he wanted to know if she'd said anything to me about having friends down there. I said that Ester and I never talked about anything personal, but he might do better if he asked Ruth. I also pointed out that all he had to do was call his long-distance carrier and dispute the bill."

  "Refuse to pay it, you mean?"

  "No," she said as if speaking to a third-grader destined for social promotion, "simply demand to know who was called. My ex-husband used to do that with every long-distance call I made. It took him years to learn that my brother lives in Boise and my roommate from college in Memphis. He even had trouble with the weekly calls to his own mother. He may be able to raise bail, but he's never going to raise his IQ."

  "Do you think she might have gone to Florida?"

  "As far as I'm concerned, she went to hell in a handbasket."

  We drove in silence the rest of the way. I parked behind Corporal Robarts's car and was climbing out of the station wagon when Naomi and Judith dashed up.

  "Thank gawd you're here," said Naomi, gulping for breath. "Anthony's been trying to call you!"

  "This is serious," added Judith.

  Rachael stared at them. "Did someone else get killed?"

  Naomi collapsed in the mud and began to sob. Judith put a steadying hand on her shoulder and said, "No one's been killed. It's just that, well, that Naomi's children have disappeared."

  16

  Corporal Robarts appeared from between the cabins. He wasn't panting, but his shirt was sticking to his body and his deodorant was less than effective at fifteen feet. At three feet, I wanted to cover my nose and mouth, but, as Ruby Bee was fond of reminding me, I wasn't raised in a barn. I didn't know anybody who had been, for that matter.

  "Glad you're finally here, Chief Hanks," he said between gasps. "I called the PD and Bonita said you were on your way. I just came back from the lodge. Les is gonna check along the road that leads to the lake, and some teacher fellow agreed to search the cabins where your group's been staying. You think I ought to call Sheriff Dorfer? I got my cellphone right here. We might could call the state police as well."

  "Let's calm down. Naomi, pull yourself together and tell me how old your children are and how long they've been gone."

  She dried her face on her sleeve, leaving a smear the color of dried blood. "Adam's eight and Lizzie is five, and I don't know for sure how long. After Mrs. Coldwater left, I dismissed all of them until suppertime. Judith's girls agreed to watch the little ones in the schoolhouse."

  "What about Damon?" demanded Rachael. "Is he at the schoolhouse, too?"

  "He's in the children's cabin, reading, as are the rest of them. My children are the only ones we can't find."

  I looked at Judith. "You implied that the children were permitted to play in the woods."

  "Usually they are, but after what happened yesterday, they were all told to stay within sight."

  "We left about two hours ago," I said. "No one's seen them since then? Are you sure they're not sitting in the kitchen of the lodge, having pizza and cherry cobbler?"

  Corporal Robarts jerked around. "You don't think I made sure of that? I looked in every room and closet, under beds, and in the shed out in the garden. I went down to the basement, even though the steps were covered with an inch of dust and spiderwebs were getting in my hair. I'm not stupid, you know."

  Naomi collapsed into Judith's arms. "How are we gonna find them? It's so dark, and there are paths all over the place. What if they went down to the lake and-"

  Judith gave her a shake. "They're safe," she said firmly. "You stay here while the rest of us fan out. Your children are old enough to realize they might be taken away by Mrs. Coldwater. The obvious explanation is that they ran away and are hiding in one of the uninhabited cabins." She shot me a dirty look. "I told you that they were fragile. If you weren't so enamored of your role as an egotistical, authoritarian-"

  "Stop it!" wailed Naomi. "Just find my kids. They're liable to be terrified. I used to make them sleep in my bed. I walked them to school and waited in the playground until they were let out. One time I agreed to have them sleep over at my sister Letitia's house, but I knew they'd start crying so I went and picked them up. I thought I'd protected them by bringing them here, but now-"

  The wails were getting progressively louder and downright eerie; if Brother Verber could have heard them, he would have been scurrying down the road toward the gate, a handkerchief in one hand and a bottle of sacramental wine in the other. "Take her inside before she frightens all the children," I said to Judith. "Rachael, get Sarah and stay with the other children. Corporal Robarts and I will find these other cabins. If the children aren't there, I'll call in backup."

  "Not dogs!" Naomi screeched as though she was being dive-bombed by bats instead of a scattering of moths. "If they hear dogs, I don't know what they'll do. I've always taught them that dogs are filthy and dangerous. When I caught Adam and Lizzie petting a puppy in the yard, I took a belt to them. The slobber was disgusting! Who knows what kind of diseases they were exposed to?"

  Judith looked past me at Rachael. "Her medication's in a plastic bag in the flour canister."

  "I'll get it and meet you in the cabin."

  Sarah, who'd been hovering in the shadows, stepped forward. "I'll be with the children."

  Corporal Robarts looked as if he thought he ought to whip out his weapon and shoot whatever slobbery, diseased puppy strayed into view to wag its satanic tail. "Maybe I should wait here."

  "Sorry," I said, "but you're more familiar with these woods than I am. Do you still have the flashlight?"

  "In the car."

  "Then go get it," I said with admirable patience, having spent the last several years dealing with Kevin Buchanon and his kinfolk. "We'll spend an hour searching for the children. If we don't find them, I'll have to call Harve."

  "It's awful dark."

  "That's pretty much the way it is after sundown."

  He licked his lips. "But what if we come across, you know, something-like, you know-"

  I helped him out. "Snakes? Bears? Polecats? A tribe of cannibals living in a cave?"

  "I was thinking more along the lines of the person who murdered Ruth," he said.

  "The flashlight," I repeated. While he was rooting through his trunk, I told Judith that it might be best for the children and adults to stay together until we returned. She nodded, then grasped Naomi and headed her toward the cabin.

  Corporal Robarts and I went around the garden and started down what had once been a road. Weeds sprouted in the middle like a bad Mohawk haircut.

  "What can you tell me about Naomi? " I asked.

  "I haven't had much to do with her. I brought them here and introduced the other Beamers. I don't recollect her being in town since then."

  "You said you brought them here. Does that mean you told her where t
o leave her car when she arrived in Dunkicker?"

  "That's not what I said. They showed up at the PD one afternoon and said Deborah had told them that I would drive them to Camp Pearly Gates. I didn't ask any questions."

  "Bonita found their cars earlier this afternoon. The sheriff's department put enough pressure on the DMV to open its files on a Sunday. Four cars, four names, and four home addresses. Sarah's the one who came from Muskogee. Norella, or Ruth, if you prefer, had a car registered in her own name. I'd bet that Naomi's from Springfield. You know who that leaves, Corporal Robarts?"

  "Hold on," he said. "There's a cabin behind those trees. We'd better stay quiet."

  We might not have gone undetected by cannibals, but we reached the cabin without much ado. He eased open the door and swung the beam of light around. "Kids?" he whispered. "You hiding in here?"

  I took the flashlight out of his hand and went around him. A minute later, I returned. "They're not here, and it doesn't look as if anyone else has been in here for the better part of a decade. Where's the next cabin?"

  "Over that way," he said, pointing. "The ones away from the lodge tend to be clustered in groups of two or three, sometimes four." He retrieved the flashlight. "You want me to show you?"

  I fell into step behind him, wishing he'd slow down so I could see the path. "I think the remaining car belonged to Ester."

  "Why do you think that?"

  I tripped over a stump and had to grab a vine to steady myself. Catching a whiff of him was more effective than sticking my nose over a bottle of smelling salts. "Well, Judith told me that she and Rachael didn't get here by car, that Deborah made arrangements. She wouldn't elaborate, but now they're panicky. Even if we find Naomi's children and return them safely, the others are going to talk to me. A missing child is every mother's worst fear. I hope Naomi's medication, whatever it is, is industrial strength and not some herbal concoction."

  "Two hours is a long time." He stopped and shined the light at yet another cabin. "You want me to look this time, or are you too high and mighty to trust a good of country boy like me?"