Misery Loves Maggody

by Joan Hess

  "Oh," said the woman in the hall, peering at me through wire-rimmed glasses. "My name is Taylor. Is Estelle here?"

  "Estelle is taking a bath," I said as I waved her in. If the Shriners and the ladies from Tuscaloosa showed up in the immediate future, I was more than willing to arrange liaisons in the casino. Maybe I could lure Japonica over to meet Mackenzie Cutting, and set up an intimate dinner for Rex and Ms. Billington. Cherri Lucinda might take a fancy to Chief Sanderson. Or I could mix and match with giddy abandon. All things were possible.

  Taylor eyed me uncertainly as she came a few feet into the room. "Do you know how long she'll be? I really need to speak to her."

  I pounded on the bathroom door. "Hey, Estelle, you've got company. Someone named Taylor. Shall I order tea and cream cakes?"

  After a significant moment of silence, Estelle said, "Tell her what happened. I'll be out in a few minutes."

  "Something happened?" Taylor said, giving me a smile that was as lackluster as her beige skirt and sweater.

  "Nothing much," I said. "Estelle was busted for burglary, but it happens all the time."

  "It's my fault. Well, it's more Todd's fault. He's my fiancé. It's just that when he disappeared, I couldn't stop myself from thinking the worst." Tears erupted, fogging up the lenses of her glasses and making me feel like a bully with all the compassion of Attila the Hun.

  "Why don't you tell me what you're talking about?" I suggested gently.

  "Okay, after we got the key yesterday afternoon, Todd and I went to our room, which is down the hall. He took a shower and shaved, and said he was feeling better. We decided to hold off on dinner for a while and go to the casino to have a look. We were walking past the bar when a bunch of his buddies from high school yelled at him. I would have preferred to keep on going, but Todd insisted that we join them for a drink. I thought it was a dreadful idea."

  I may have been expected to agree with her, but I hadn't yet zeroed in on the transgression. "Buddies, huh? I guess you were uncomfortable."

  "I felt like the barmaid, although they paid more attention to her than they did to me. All of them were smoking cigars-even the girls-and it was obvious they'd been in the bar all afternoon. I seriously considered going back to the room.

  "And then?"

  "One drink, two drinks, another round, another round. Pretty soon Todd was telling everybody how I'd arranged for us to get married at the Elvis Chapel in Tupelo. He made it sound so tacky that I wanted to die right there. His friends were hooting and carrying on like junior high kids at a mall. I was totally humiliated. Can you imagine how I felt surrounded by all those-those overbred pedigreed puppies who've never had to do more than whimper to their parents to get next month's rent? The only time one of those girls has been cold and hungry is when she's gotten herself locked out of the sorority house!"

  I still wasn't making the leap between Taylor 's unhappy experience in the bar and Estelle's more profound problem on the sixth floor. "Did you finally go to dinner?"

  "The booze was coming too fast for that. I tried to convince Todd that he ought to eat something, but he ignored me and kept cracking up over all these inside jokes that made no sense whatsoever. I was like an orphan who'd wandered into a family reunion, so I told Todd I was going upstairs to order from room service. He said he'd join me in a few minutes." She took a shuddery breath. "I was waiting for the elevator when he and this slutty girl named Leanne or Luellen staggered up, hanging all over each other. According to Todd, she wanted him to fix a zipper. I had to think the zipper she had in mind was on her jeans, not her designer luggage. They got off on the sixth floor."

  "And that's the last you saw of him?"

  "It's been over twelve hours," she said, clutching a wadded tissue to her nose. "He's either floating in the river or shacked up with this old girlfriend. I hate to say it, but I'm having serious reservations about him. You'd think he'd want to be with me on what's meant to be our honeymoon. I mean, what he's doing is so unbelievably inconsiderate of my feelings."

  I finally got it. "And this morning when you woke up and he was still gone, you came here to pour out your problems to Estelle, right? You knew that if Todd was in the hotel, he was likely to be on the sixth floor. Estelle"-I raised my voice, even though I knew she had her ear pressed to the door-"being the idiot that she is, offered to don a disguise and see if she could hunt him down."

  Taylor shifted uncomfortably. "We thought maybe she could find out which room he was in. I don't know what I was going to do when she did. Drag him out of there, I guess, and insist we get married as soon as possible. Once that happens, he'll settle down and behave like a corporate lawyer instead of a frat boy."

  "Maybe he passed out," I suggested. "The girl figured it would be easier to leave him until he woke up this morning. He may be on his way to your room."

  "I could tell from the way he was looking at her that he wasn't that drunk."

  Estelle came out of the bathroom. "You said he hadn't had anything to eat all day," she said to Taylor. "Arly's most likely right."

  "You didn't see him?"

  "I made it into more than half the rooms," Estelle said, "and there wasn't hide nor hair of him."

  Taylor dried her glasses on the tissue and settled them back in place. "Is there a way to make the hotel give us the names of all the single women with rooms on the sixth floor?"

  I winced at the image of Estelle trying to wheedle that tidbit of information out of a desk clerk. "Listen," I said, trying to be assertive, if not dictatorial, "it's quite possible Todd went back down to the casino after he zipped her zipper. He might be playing blackjack as we speak. Why don't you go have a look before you get Estelle into more trouble?"

  "It could have happened that way," Taylor said without conviction. "But I watched them on the elevator, and there was something going on. Todd's not exactly a choirboy when it comes to sex. He bragged to me how he slept with every single cheerleader during his senior year in high school. Is that repulsive or what?"

  "Are you sure he's the man of your dreams?" I asked.

  "No, but he most definitely is the father of my baby. His mother seems to have found a way to repress his father's libidinous impulses, or at least insist on a modicum of discretion. I'll just have to hope I can do the same with Todd."

  It was not a marriage made in heaven, I thought as I went over to the sliding glass door and tried in vain to see the roof of the hospital. "Did you hear what happened to Stormy?"

  "Wasn't that ghastly? She wasn't a very nice person, but I did my best to make allowances due to her inferior socioeconomic background and limited intellect. I'd be surprised if she even graduated from high school."

  Estelle stiffened. "I can't see that matters, Taylor. It's not like she was on welfare. We can't all be doctors and lawyers-or executives, for that matter. We need mechanics and clerks and waitresses just as much as we need folks with flashy degrees. If you ask me, they're a darn sight more useful. When's the last time an accountant stopped and offered to look under your hood?"

  "It's just that Todd's gone," Taylor said, beginning to cry once again.

  I stayed where I was, but Estelle relented and sat down beside her to hold her hand and murmur inanities. I was less than impressed with her display of grief.

  "Then you were alone all night?" I said.

  "I just told you," she whined so piteously that Estelle glared at me. "I was so upset that I literally cried myself to sleep. What am I supposed to do now?"

  "Go back to your room and wait for him to drag in," I said. "Either accept his apology or kick him out. It's your future on the line."

  Taylor pushed her bangs out of her eyes so that she, too, could glare at me. "That's not a very nice thing to say. Here I am asking for a little compassion and all you can do is say mean things. You don't realize what it's like to be in my situation. It's not easy, you know. Todd's parents are like majorly important in Little Rock society. His mother is the committee chairwoman for the entire debutante
thing, and she-"

  "You're right," I interrupted. "All I can do is say mean things, and I'm thinking of a whole lot more of them. Why don't you go to your room and call someone who cares?"

  "Arly?" Estelle gasped.

  I crossed my arms. "My mother's in the hospital in critical condition. Jim Bob's in a jail cell down the road, likely to be charged with murder. You aren't allowed to leave this room unless you're on a leash. I simply don't have time for errant fraternity boys on drunken binges and social climbers who've misplaced their ladders."

  Taylor stood up. "Well then, maybe I should leave."

  "I never accused you of stupidity," I said as I stepped aside to facilitate her path to the door.

  After she flounced out the door (and flounce, she did, as if she were a raven-haired vixen in a Civil War movie), I turned my attention to Estelle.

  "This is why you stole the housekeeping cart and passkey?" I said.

  "I don't need any lectures from the likes of you. I was merely doing a small favor for Taylor. It's obvious you've taken a dislike to her, but you ain't being fair. Here she is, all alone, pregnant, and going up against this snooty family. She's gonna come into a substantial inheritance before too long, but in the meantime she's doing the best she can to keep her pride intact. You had no business speaking to her like that."

  I flopped down on the bed. "I met her type in Manhattan. Did you notice that she never even pretended to be worried about this fiancé who's disappeared? The only reason she wants to find him is so that she can get the gold band on her finger. After that, she'll slap him on the buttocks and send him right back out to fool around with all of his ex-girlfriends."

  On that note, I rolled over and gave her an unimpeded view of my backside. She prowled around the room for a long while, then went out onto the balcony, pointedly leaving the door open to allow the cold air to emphasize her disapproval.

  I fell asleep just to spite her.

  Kevin kept craning his neck every which way, trying to make sure Dahlia hadn't parked in front of any of the businesses along the highway. She sure wouldn't have stopped at a taxidermy shop or a salvage yard, or at a pawnshop with a big sign promising genuine diamond rings at rock-bottom prices. He slowed down as he went past a couple of fast-food places, but she hadn't parked out front.

  He braked as he came up on a station wagon crammed full of kids in muddy uniforms. Kevvie Junior, and maybe even Rose Marie, might want to play sports when they got older, he thought mistily, picturing himself on the sideline in a uniform that proclaimed him as head coach.

  "Winning's not the most important thing," he'd tell the team during a timeout. "Doin' your level best is what matters most. Course, that don't mean you shouldn't go out there and kick some ass. That's why we're here-right? We didn't come to have a picnic lunch in the middle of the field. Now who wants to kick some ass?"

  Suddenly he realized he was approaching the turnoff to the bypass that avoided the sluggish traffic in Farberville. Which way had Dahlia gone? He slowed down even more as he thought it over. If she'd gone on into downtown Farberville, he'd most likely never find her. On the other hand, if she'd taken the bypass, he most likely would spot her and be able to follow her to wherever she was going.

  Kevin glanced in the rearview mirror to see how his lipstick was holding up. To his surprise, a state police car was all but riding on the bumper. Comforted by the knowledge that he was obeying the law, he put on the blinker, tapped on the brake pedal, and turned onto the bypass like a law-abiding citizen that was gonna kick some ass soon as he found it.

  "Shall I order us bread and water for lunch?" Estelle said, poking me in the back. "I reckon that's what prisoners eat when they're under house arrest."

  "Sounds yummy," I said. "What time is it?"

  "Visiting hours at the hospital begin before too long. What kind of bread do you want?"

  " Rye, with pastrami and Swiss. Mustard on the side." I sat up and rubbed the back of my neck. In college, we'd thought nothing about driving seven hours to Dallas for a concert or fourteen hours to New Orleans for oysters and Bloody Marys. Staying up night and day for the best part of a week during final exams was unremarkable. Maybe Ruby Bee was right when she pointed out (quite often) that I wasn't getting any younger. Few of us are.

  Estelle ordered sandwiches and coffee from room service, then said, "I suppose I ought to let Baggins know what's going on. Ruby Bee and I sure won't be in the van tomorrow. Cherri Lucinda may have to stay on account of this mess with Jim Bob. If Todd doesn't turn up, I don't know what Taylor 's gonna do. Rex may have the back of the van to himself."

  "I met him in the restaurant," I said. "He told me about the motel in Memphis. I hope you and Ruby Bee had enough sense to stay in your room."

  "We were the only ones. Luckily for us, Cherri Lucinda and Stormy found a store where they bought us sandwiches for supper. One of them mentioned that Taylor and Todd had gone out. When I was peeking out the window at the bald man, I saw Baggins come into the parking lot from the direction of the street. Not long after that, Rex showed up at our door, wanting change to use the pay phone by the office. It's a marvel none of them got shot."

  "What's all this about a bald man?" I said.

  Estelle's cheeks turned several shades pinker than her blusher, which was no easy feat. "Most likely nothing. He was in a black car out by the pool. Yesterday morning I thought I saw him at Graceland in the group behind ours. Maybe I was mistaken. There's got to be more than one bald man in Memphis, just like there is on television. For instance, there's Telly Savalas, Yul Brynner, Mr. Clean-"

  "He never spoke to you or attempted to approach you?"

  "I never gave him the chance. He looked way too old to be Stormy's boyfriend. If he is, though, he could have been following her instead of me. Baggins might have told him and the other man about the changes in our schedule. He could have been lurking around the hotel when we arrived, then waited until Stormy was alone in the room. She let him in, thinking he wanted to apologize, but he ended up pushing her off the balcony."

  "That doesn't explain how he left the room without being seen by the eagle-eyed ladies from Tuscaloosa."

  "I guess it doesn't," Estelle conceded, "but I still say Jim Bob would never do a thing like that. What's gonna happen to him?"

  "I don't know. There'll be a bond hearing on Monday. The judge has the right to deny bond and keep Jim Bob in jail until the date of the arraignment, which could be anywhere from a month to ninety days."

  "Ninety days? You can't let him sit in a cell all that time, Arly. The supermarket will have to close, and that means a lot of folks'll be out of a job. You've got to do something. Why don't you question Baggins? He might know who this man is."

  "Because," I said with commendable forbearance, "it doesn't matter if he was Stormy's long-lost father, thought to have perished during a solo trek across the Gobi Desert. He couldn't have been in her room unless he mastered the art of transforming himself into an insect or a bird in order to fly away."

  "You still ought to ask," she said.

  I turned on the television. When lunch arrived, I continued to give my full attention to CNN while I ate. Estelle managed to grumble her way though her version of bread and water-in this case, a hamburger-then announced she was ready to go to the hospital if I could pry my eyes off the screen. I did.

  Deputy Jones was in the hall, writing in a notebook. "Oh, good," she said, "I was just getting to you. Can you give me a few minutes?"

  "We're on our way to the hospital," said Estelle. "Why don't you come back later?"

  "Now will be fine," I said, forcing Estelle back into the hotel room. I'd wasted enough of my own time chasing down elusive witnesses to know how it felt to keep knocking on doors for days on end.

  "I just need a few minutes," Japonica said as she sat down and opened the notebook. "You're Estelle Oppers, right? You and the lady in the hospital were part of the C'Mon tour?"

  "I reckon that's right," said Estelle. "L
ook, you're making a big mistake about Jim Bob. There's only one thing on his mind, and it ain't murder. You've got no call to lock him up like a common criminal. He owns a supermarket and he's been the mayor of Maggody so long that most folks can barely recollect when of Dinkus Buchanon ruled the town council. Dinkus is the one that insisted on the stoplight, even though there wasn't hardly any traffic."

  Japonica nodded thoughtfully. "Chief Sanderson and I will take that into consideration, ma'am. You and Ms. Hanks had no idea he was going to be here?"

  "Why would we?"

  "Just asking," Japonica said as she wrote in her notebook. "You saw him in the lobby last night. How did he seem?"

  Estelle stopped to think. "He was flabbergasted to see me, and not real pleased. That'd be because he knew I might say something to his wife and get him in trouble. It's kinda funny, isn't it? Here he drove all this way, thinking he'd be safe-and who's the first person he runs into? Someone from Maggody."

  I broke in before she could lapse into song about what a small world it was. "Did he say or do anything besides express shock at seeing you?"

  She shook her head. "No, that was about it. I didn't see him after that, what with going to the hospital with Ruby Bee and then coming back here to call you. It was all so frantic that I plumb forgot about him."

  "I saw him in the casino," I said to Japonica. "It was just for a second, and I didn't notice if he was with someone."

  "Okay, then," she said, closing her notebook. "I need to track down a couple more folks, then we're done. Give me your addresses and telephone numbers in case we have any more questions. Can't see why we would, though."

  I poked Estelle. "Tell her about the bald man."

  "There ain't nothing to tell."

  Japonica's heavy-lidded eyelids opened a tad wider. "Who's this mysterious bald man?"

  Estelle reluctantly repeated what she'd told me, minimalizing it to the point that it sounded thoroughly inane. "I was just imagining things," she concluded. "That's not to say I believe Jim Bob Buchanon is responsible for Stormy's death. She was nervous from the minute we left Farberville. It could be because she'd decided to kill herself when we got here. That's reason to be nervous, isn't it? The idea of throwing myself off a balcony makes me so trembly I could almost throw up. No wonder she smoked so much and was saying all those rude things about Elvis like he was nothing but a Las Vegas celebrity. He was known as the Hillbilly Cat before he got famous, you know. He was always faithful to his roots, which is more than I can say for some folks who move up North and think they're hoity-toity."