Misery Loves Maggody

by Joan Hess

  He wiggled the stick until he found reverse and pressed down on the accelerator. The vehicle shot backward in a spray of gravel and gray smoke. He jerked his foot off the pedal and sat until his heart quit thudding, eyeing the dashboard with a newly discovered respect.

  Time was wasting. Dahlia was most likely headed toward Farberville, with only a few minutes head start. He would follow her at a distance, even though there was no way she'd recognize him in this. Just to be extra safe, he took a scarf off the seat and tied it around his head, then found a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment and put them on. After he'd checked his reflection in the mirror, he reopened the glove compartment, took out a tube of lipstick, and applied a thick red band over his lips. Now not even his ma would recognize him, he thought as he crammed the stick into first gear and eased down timidly on the pedal.

  The car bucked across the parking lot but finally seemed to accept a stranger at the reins. Fully intending to bring bear meat home for supper, Kevin stuck out his chin and took off at a full gallop for Farberville.

  Estelle was in no mood for breakfast, which was dandy, since I was in no mood for her company. I left her pacing around the hotel room and went down to the restaurant, determined to eat breakfast and read a newspaper in relative solitude.

  I'd just ordered when a man approached the table. "May I join you?" he said as he pulled out a chair.

  Recognizing him as the boorish blackjack player who'd attempted to banish me to the slot machines, I frowned and said, "I prefer to eat alone."

  He sat down and filled his coffee cup from the pot on the table. "I hope I didn't offend you last night, or more accurately, this morning. I'm afraid I take my gambling too seriously, especially when I'm losing. The evening started so well, as it usually does. I am keenly aware of the percentages and play accordingly, but Lady Luck turned on me like an ungrateful mistress. It didn't matter what I did." He took the water glass in front of me and drank deeply. "There are moments when I feel like Prometheus, doomed by the gods to have my entrails ripped out at the gaming tables. In the wee hours, dealers take on an uncanny resemblance to predatory birds with razor-sharp talons."

  "Perhaps you should take up needlepoint," I said without sympathy.

  "Rex Malanac," he said, extending his hand. "You are, I believe, the daughter of Ruby Bee Hanks? I hope she's recovering."

  I briefly touched his hand. "They're doing some tests at the hospital. She should be able to go home in a few days. Are you on the Elvis Tour?"

  "Yes, but I must say it's been a disappointment. In Memphis, the driver did his best to convince us that we were staying in a motel where Elvis once slept, but of course everyone knows that he and his parents lived in public housing in the north part of Memphis. There is no documentation or reason to believe he ever stayed in any motels. One would almost suspect this was an economizing tactic on the part of C'Mon Tours."

  "Estelle mentioned gunfire," I said.

  "All of us were in abject terror that we would be killed by stray bullets. Only our little lovebirds had the courage to go out into the night, but they arranged to have taxis pick them up and deliver them to their motel-room door. Had your mother and her friend asked, I gladly would have taken up a post in their room in order to protect them. They're quite the innocents abroad, are they not?"

  "Oh, absolutely," I said, stirring several spoonfuls of sugar into my coffee. "You heard about Stormy?"

  "A terrible thing." He picked up the menu and beckoned to a waitress. "Be a dear and bring me scrambled eggs, two very crisp strips of bacon, and dry whole-wheat toast."

  My appetite diminished, I ordered a bagel, then said, "What exactly did you hear, Mr. Malanac?"

  "Please call me Rex. Otherwise, I'm apt to forget you're not a student and start lecturing you on the emergence of militaristic symbolism in the literature of prewar Germany. I'm sure you wouldn't care for that."

  "What about Stormy?"

  "All I know is that she fell to her death several hours ago. A rather uncouth police officer ordered me to remain in the hotel until I've given a statement. It will be a very short one, I'm afraid. I stayed in the casino until four, then went to my room and fell asleep immediately. I might still be in that condition had the police officer not banged on my door. I find it difficult to think kindly of him."

  "Did you see Cherri Lucinda playing craps?"

  "I do not allow my attention to wander when I'm at the blackjack table," he said primly. "I did see her enter the casino clinging to the arm of an unfamiliar man, and while on the way to the men's room, I noticed Stormy playing the quarter slots as if determined to win a kidney transplant for a kid sister or brother. Neither of them was of consequence to me, to be brutally honest. I came on the pilgrimage to do further investigation into Elvisian folklore, and divert myself with an evening at a casino. Calculating odds at blackjack makes a pleasant change from grading ill-written essays on Albert Camus and Günter Grass."

  "Miss Hanks," said the same silky voice I'd heard in the casino, "you look as though you've had the opportunity to catch a few hours of sleep."

  I looked up at the ostentatiously gracious young man in the lustrous gray suit. In that it was wise to avoid insulting likely members of a crime family, I said, "Yes, thank you."

  "I was worried about you. If you will honor us with your presence tonight, I'd be delighted to offer you a drink."

  "Drinks are free," I said, glancing at Rex, who was attacking his bacon and eggs with the dedication of a famished refugee. If he'd bent over any further, his nose would have made contact with the grease puddling the hash-brown potatoes. "Why don't you offer me a nice big stack of chips? You know you'll have them back at the end of the evening, but you'll have kept me amused and eternally grateful to the benevolence of The Luck of the Draw."

  "I understand you're associated with the tour group that lost a member in a tragic fashion," he said. "All of us on the staff would like to share our condolences."

  "So are you giving me chips to ease the pain?" I asked. "Red ones will do, but I'd prefer green."

  "We'll have to see. You have the look of someone who might get lucky and make a run on the bank."

  "I'll bet you say that to all the girls," I replied with a saccharine smile.

  He looked down at Rex, who was still wolfing down his scrambled eggs as if they would scamper away if he didn't contain them with a fork, then nodded at me and wound his way through the tables to the exit.

  I waited until Rex emerged from his close encounter with carbohydrates. "When you saw Stormy playing the slot machine, was she alone?"

  "Was she with someone, you mean?"

  "That would be the question," I said, bemused.

  "I don't recall anyone in close proximity. However, I only caught a glimpse of her. If she had a companion, he might have stepped away for a moment. Watching someone play the slots is slightly more boring than actually playing them. I prefer games of a more cerebral nature, in which a knowledge of the percentages is a factor."

  "You must play a lot," I said. "Do you usually win?"

  "Naturally." He put his napkin on his plate, finished his coffee, and rose. "I've enjoyed meeting you, Arly. Please tell you mother I wish her a speedy recovery."

  I chewed on a bagel as I watched him leave the restaurant, wondering why he'd insisted on joining me. His expressions of concern for Ruby Bee were no more heartfelt than his superficial distress at Stormy's death. He hadn't attempted to elicit information, nor had he offered anything beyond a loose description of his activities during the last six hours. He'd played blackjack until four, and then gone to bed. I'd caught no glint in his eyes that suggested he was flirting with me, which was understandable, considering the grayish circles under my eyes and strands of hair jammed behind my ears.

  When the waitress arrived with the bill, I realized Rex had stiffed me for the grand sum of two dollars and forty-nine cents.

  The day was certainly taking shape.

  9

&n
bsp; I hesitated in the restaurant doorway as a group of gray-haired women came out of the casino, each clasping a paper cup to hold her slot-machine winnings (or future losings). I had an urge to ask them if they were from Tuscaloosa, but instead waited until they'd marched by like a platoon of ducks and then trailed after them to the lobby.

  I found a pay phone, punched in my card number, and called Harve's office. When LaBelle answered, I asked to speak to him.

  "He's busy," she said. "So am I, what with all this ridiculous paperwork. Call back at the beginning of the week."

  "Is he there, LaBelle? This is important."

  "To the best of my knowledge, he's not in the building. Even though he's obligated to keep me informed of his whereabouts, these last few days he's been sneaking in and out the back door. I have better things to do than go knock on his door every time the phone rings. I most certainly am not about to do it now."

  Short of a six-hour drive and a fistfight in the front office, there was no way to win this minor skirmish. "Let me leave a message for him, LaBelle," I said. "I'm in a little town north of Tunica, Mississippi, and I may be here for a few more days."

  "Why would that be?"

  "Ruby Bee's in the hospital, having some tests. If that weren't enough, Jim Bob Buchanon's implicated in a homicide and I need to sort it out. It took place at The Luck of the Draw hotel, which is where I'm staying. This is strictly for Harve's information. Please don't spread it around."

  "I beg your pardon," LaBelle said huffily. "I am not a person to go jabbering whenever I hear something. I'm right sorry to hear about Ruby Bee. Give her my best."

  She slammed down the receiver. I moved on to a white house phone and called Estelle. She sounded peculiar when she answered, as if she'd been plotting to rob the casino in order to pay a Memphis hospital bill.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "Why shouldn't I be? Just because Ruby Bee's on her deathbed and Jim Bob's in jail and Stormy's flatter than a Salisbury steak and-"

  "Ruby Bee's not on her deathbed," I cut in. "The rest of it may be true, but there's not a damn thing you can do about it. You're not helping the situation, Estelle."

  "And you are?"

  "What am I supposed to be doing?"

  "For starters, you can make sure Jim Bob's not being thumped with rubber hoses to make him confess. Scoot yourself over there and see if you can do something for him. He's from Maggody, after all, and no matter what problems you've had with him, you owe it to the community to look after its citizens."

  "What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

  Estelle harrumphed loudly enough to make herself heard in the hallway. "What do you think I'm gonna do, missy-go out on the balcony and yodel like a person of the Swiss persuasion? I thought I'd order another pot of coffee from room service and stay by the phone in case Ruby Bee takes a turn for the worse. I can use a little privacy after all that's gone on. I might just give myself a manicure while I watch a movie on cable. Is that all right with you?"

  At that moment, if she'd said she had the ski mask in place and was loading an automatic weapon, I would have acquiesced. I told her I'd be back in an hour or so, then asked a bellman how to find the local jail and went out to the parking lot. I did pause for a moment to listen for mournful yodeling before I got in my car and drove out to the main highway.

  The PD was in what amounted to an alley behind an abandoned grain silo. I parked and went inside. A young black woman with braided hair and a neatly pressed uniform gave me a toothy smile.

  "Help you?" she said in a voice that implied she'd really like to be able to do so, no matter how much of a personal sacrifice might be required on her part.

  "I'm here to see Jim Bob Buchanon."

  Her smile dried up. "You his lawyer?"

  "Not exactly," I said. "I just want to make sure he's all right."

  "A relative, then?"

  I peered at her name tag, which identified her as J. Jones. "I'm a friend from his hometown, Deputy Jones. May I see him?"

  "I'd rather see a cross burning in my yard, but it's your decision," she said as she stood up. We went into a short corridor lined with three barred cells. "You got a visitor, honey," she called. "She's a lady, so don't let me hear anymore of that nasty language. You understand?"

  Jim Bob was stretched out on a bare metal cot, his hands entwined behind his neck. His shoes were on the floor of the cell; the hole in his sock brought to mind my (and everybody else's) mother's admonishment to always wear clean underwear in case of an accident.

  Or, in this case, an incarceration.

  "Why, Japonica," he said, "I can't believe you'd say such a thing. I've been a perfect gentleman ever since you dragged me out of the hotel room and gave me a free ride to your elegant downtown establishment. I was just lying here thinkin' how I might spend my vacation in this very cell come summertime."

  "Come summertime you may still be here," I said.

  He jerked upright. "Aw, Jesus, like I need this on top of everything else? What the fuck are you doin' here?"

  "It's okay," I said to Japonica before she could offer further commentary on his obvious lack of social graces. "I'm sorry to say I'm used to him."

  "Well, I'm not," she said as she stalked toward the front room. "Call if you want me to come back with a nightstick and teach him some manners."

  When the door closed behind her, I said, "You've gotten yourself into a helluva mess, Mayor Buchanon. Chief Sanderson mentioned the possibility of first- or second-degree murder. I don't know if they have the death penalty in Mississippi, but I do know they have endless acres of cotton to be chopped under the noonday sun."

  "Don't give me that shit. I didn't do anything wrong beyond telling Mrs. Jim Bob that I'd be at the Municipal League meeting in Hot Springs. Nobody goes to prison for that. When I get out of here, I'm going sue their sorry butts for false imprisonment."

  "If you get out of here," I said, "you'd better stay on the far side of the river. You want to tell me what happened?"

  "No, I don't want to tell you what happened," he muttered. "Guess I ought to, though, so you can convince that swinish chief of police to let me out of this hellhole." He flopped back on the cot and resumed staring at the ceiling. "A couple of weeks ago Cherri Lucinda said that she was goin' on this Elvis Presley Pilgrimage. I thought I'd come over and give her a thrill. She wasn't supposed to show up until today, but I figured I could amuse myself in the casino for an extra night. You never know who all you might meet, particularly at the craps table. Most women are so stupid they don't have the foggiest idea how to play, but they like the excitement and the excuse to press their tits up against your back so hard you can feel their nipples."

  "Let's not go into that," I said. "So you didn't expect to see Cherri Lucinda yesterday afternoon?"

  "It's a good thing your job don't require much in the way of brains. I just told you that she wasn't supposed to get here until later today. I got to the hotel around five, checked in, and was taking my bag up to the room when I damn near tripped over Estelle in front of the elevators. Then Ruby Bee collapsed on the carpet and Cherri Lucinda came dashing out of the ladies room and Estelle started bleatin' like a sheep and everybody from the bellboys to a group of Japanese tourists went crazy. I returned to the desk, slipped the kid a ten-dollar bill to change my room, then stayed in the bar until the excitement died down. Cherri Lucinda damn near peed in her jeans when I knocked on the door between the two rooms an hour later."

  I waited in case he was going to ask about Ruby Bee, then sighed and said, "What about Stormy? Did you know she and Cherri Lucinda would be sharing a room?"

  He sat up and frowned at me. "Is that the woman I'm accused of pushing off the balcony? Hell, I didn't pay any attention when Cherri Lucinda said her name. I had more important things on my mind-and in my pocket, if you follow me. I invited Cherri Lucinda into my room so she could express her gratitude for my going to the bother of driving all this way to see her. After that, we had ourselv
es a fancy prime rib dinner in the restaurant, then went to the casino so she could watch me shoot craps."

  "She was at your side all night?"

  "Ever' now and then she'd start whining that she was bored, so I'd give her some money to go throw away on the slots. She ain't the brightest thing to come down the pike." He smirked in a most unbecoming way. "Her talents lie elsewhere. On account of being an exotic dancer, she can get herself into some mind-bogglin' positions."

  I leaned against the wall and regarded him with contempt. Back in Maggody, I was obliged to show a modicum of deference, but in this situation he was in a grimy little cell. It was an image I'd cherish for a long time to come, and my only regret was that I didn't have a camera. "At dawn you and she went up to your room, right? Did she go into her own room?"

  "No, she went straight to my bathroom and started the shower, then asked me if I'd mind getting her bag so she could slip on her nightie. I went next door, stuffed everything back in it, and set it inside the bathroom. After that, I turned on the TV, lit a cigar, and waited for her to come out in a sexy little something, all steamy and warm and smelling of perfume."

  "You didn't hear a scream?"

  "I might have heard something, but I was trying to get the NBA scores due to a small wager with a gentleman that lives in Starley City. The siren was a might harder to ignore. I pulled back the curtain to see what was going on, then went out on the balcony for a better look. Cherri Lucinda came out of the bathroom about then and joined me. We hadn't made heads or tails of it when that uppity colored girl banged on the door." He got up and came over to the bars separating us. Despite his display of bravado, his forehead was beaded with sweat and saliva dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. "You got to make them believe me, Arly. There wasn't nobody in the next room. The bathroom was dark and the only light came from a gap in the curtains. I just collected the bag for Cherri Lucinda. That's all I did."