What would have been nearly a forty-five-minute hike for a guy like me was a five-minute drive in the Jeep, and we were parked in front of Miss Nina’s again. Neither one of us got out of the car, though. I could tell he had something more to say.
“I actually did want your help when I picked you up here earlier, Mr. Tucker. You do have a reputation of being able to find things and people, and I want to find Ginny in the worst way — just like you do, apparently.”
I smiled. “So anyway, I’d be happy to continue to lend a hand — with the official sanction of the law around here.”
He looked forward, hands still on the steering wheel. “Good.”
That was that. We both climbed out of the vehicle.
And what do you know, but through the big plate-glass window, who did I see dining at a corner table? None other than Fedora and the Moose.
I started to say something to Cedar, but he had his eye on Dally and David at another table. They were talking to Miss Nina and an unknown fourth — but he, the fourth, he looked a little familiar. Cedar went straight for that group.
“Mr. Hainey.”
The fourth guy. He stood. Much shaking of hands.
Mr. Hainey was very sympathetic. “David here tells me you’ve got a missing-child situation.” Then he flashed a big smile.
Cedar was very deferential. “Yes, sir, we do. But I think it’s coming to a conclusion.”
Hainey let his eye wander past the policeman and fall on me. “And this must be the famous Mr. Tucker.”
I smiled. I swear I can be charming under the right circumstances. “They usually put the word notorious in front of my name.”
We shook too.
He sat, went on. “Ms. Oglethorpe tells me you’re helping out with this thing.”
I shrugged. “Best I can.”
He was happy. “Good. Good. You’re the man for the job.” Nice smile to Dally. “Terrible business.”
She smiled back. Eyes still on Hainey, she spoke to me. “Flap, Mr. Hainey here is a field executive for BarnDoor.”
I was cagey. “The home-improvement thing?”
He nodded enthusiastically.
I nodded right back. “The whole country’s doing it.”
So Hainey was with the evil empire of designer home improvement. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Then I remembered where I’d seen him. He was the jolly guy that was leaving Miss Nina’s earlier saying goodbye to all and sundry, when I’d just awakened. I was more interested in talking with Dally about the latest developments.
“Officer Duffie believes he knows that happened to Ginny after all.”
But before I could go on, Officer Duffie stopped me. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Tucker, I’d prefer to keep all the information about the case confidential.” Flashed a kind of official smile at Mr. Hainey. “You understand.”
“Of course, of course.” He was a reasonable man. Dally skipped it, went right for the next item. “Brother David’s invited us to his church.”
I tried to figure out what she really wanted to do. Ordinarily Dally’s church is the quiet of the sunset and the first few notes of a good tune. But she did seem kind of interested. And a guy like me loves to do a little metaphysical field research.
So I just asked her. “And are we going?”
“Sure we are.”
I was unclear. “There’s a service today?”
David smiled like the sun. “Service every day.”
I smiled back. “Okay, then.”
David stood. “Shall we?”
That took me a little off balance. “Now?”
He shot me a swell head of steam. “Now is all there is.”
I had to smile again. “Well, you certainly got me there.” I patted Cedar’s arm. “By the way, the two guys I mentioned last night? The ones on the logging road? They’re having breakfast at that table over there.” I tilted my head in the direction of Moose and Fedora.
He didn’t look, gave one nod. “Saw them when I came in. Thought that might be them.” Then he looked at me. “They’re kind of noticeable.”
I stuck out my lower lip a little. “Like me.”
“Right. I’m not going to wait for you. I’m going on up to … the place we discussed a moment ago.”
“Without talking to those guys?” I indicated the rough set.
He looked down. “I’ll have a word.”
I lowered my voice. “Look. I actually hope I’m wrong — but you’re not going to find Ginny up there, or Wicher either.”
He made his voice softer too. “We’ll see.”
I looked around. “Could we make it back here and meet for lunch? Catch up?”
Big sigh. “All right. Eleven-thirty.”
I nodded. “Beat the noon crowd.”
Dally, David, and I started out. I caught Moose’s eye.
He was very happy to see me. “Hey! It’s the guy from last night.”
Fedora turned around. “Well, if it ain’t our fateful Indian guide, Tonto.”
I tipped my own brim to him. “I think the word you’re trying to say is faithful, and I see you found out where to get a good breakfast.”
He disagreed. “Hell. They ain’t got even a dab of corned beef hash.” He looked at Moose. “How do you call it breakfast without corned beef hash?”
Moose didn’t know. “Gosh. That’s a good one.” He thought about it.
We split. I was kind of wishing I could be a fly on the wall when Cedar met up with those two. Would have made for an amusing clash of cultures.
17. Wildflowers
David had his old pickup truck out front of Miss Nina’s. We climbed in, Dally in the middle. The front seat was bigger than a sofa. We actually had space in between each other.
Once we were rolling, I couldn’t hold it any longer. “Officer Duffie thinks Wicher kidnapped Ginny.”
Dally cracked up. “I was wondering how long you’d last in the confidential-case department.”
I let her laugh. “Well, you’ve got to admit …”
She wouldn’t hear of it. “I’ve got to admit nothing, pal. We both had an idea that Wicher was whacked.”
David was very calm. “Sydney’s just a lonely old man. He’s not even completely in this reality. He’s got one foot in another world.”
Dally beat me to the obvious question. “Huh?”
He went right on driving. “That’s why he talks to his dead wife. I believe he actually sees her. I believe she’s actually there. Waiting just outside the normal plane.”
My turn. “Waiting?”
He spoke softly. “For him to join her. Then they’ll move on. They were very close. When he passes on, it’ll be a happy day in many respects.”
Dally was impatient with the whole premise. “Okay. Whatever. Back to Ginny.”
I picked up. “Right. Ginny’s out there on her own. And she wants to be. She’s not lost at all. Get this: The McDonners own that property up where the tree house is.”
She turned my way. “Get out.”
“Plays up there all the time. Knows it well.”
“Jesus.”
David made with the stern face. “I hope that’s the beginning of a prayer, Ms. Oglethorpe, and not merely an exclamation.”
She turned back to him. “Just an expression. I’m very comfortable with the major figure of my culture’s primary religion. We’re on a first-name basis. He calls me Dally, I call him —”
I rammed in. “The point is, Ginny’s not lost.”
That stopped everything. Even the truck slowed down a little.
I went on. “She just doesn’t want to come home, it would appear.”
Dally looked out the window. “Wow.” Back at me. “How come?”
“Could have something to do with why the McDonners own the property. They’re related to the family that used to own it. The Little Girl of Lost Pines? Her mother was a Day.”
David, bless his soul, could tell it was significant, but he didn’t get it. “Why does tha
t mean something?”
I answered. “Lot of people think that little Christy, the ghost of —”
He moved me on. “I’m familiar with that story.”
“Right. Lot of people believe that her father was abusive. Maybe it runs in the family. I’ve read that it does.”
“Isn’t it about time to” — Dally nudged me — “you know … do the thing?”
I was embarrassed. “Yeah. I guess.”
David wanted to know. “What thing?”
Dally spoke for me, even though I was kind of wishing she wouldn’t. She knew I didn’t really like sharing the idea with all that many people. I couldn’t figure why she was so willing to spill to David.
“See, he goes into something of a trance. He kind of learned it when he was a kid. In the dream or trance or whatever it is, he sees everything. Then the thing that’s missing, it’s like the only missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. All he has to do is pop that piece in, and the whole mess is clear.”
David was cautious. “Remarkable. How often does it work?”
She folded her arms. “Every time.”
He looked at her sideways.
She was very specific with each word. “Every single time.”
I had to demur. “It’s just intuition. Nothin’ mysterious about it at all, really.”
He looked over at me. “I don’t know. Seems pretty impressive.” He smiled. “Sounds like prayer.”
I looked out the window. “Yeah. Well.” I wanted very much to change the subject. “So where we going?”
He was agreeable. “My church.” We’d turned off the main road and were going up some pretty steep dirt job. “It’s on the property you were just talking about. The old Rayburn property.”
Dally and I both sat forward. I got it out first. “What? Your church is on this same piece of land?” He was serene. “That’s right. The property is the whole mountain. It means nothing. Just a coincidence.”
Dally sat back. “Bad choice of words.”
He looked at her. “What?”
She looked straight ahead. “You have no idea how Mr. Tucker feels about coincidence.”
*
David’s church was a little like a one-room schoolhouse from what they used to call the days of yore — except it was whitewashed to beat the band. Spotless. Inside too. The joint was meticulous. The pews were rough pine boards, but they looked like they’d just been put in that morning. The altar was a pine table with what seemed to be a carved wood cross on it. There were several crates under the table.
There were no light fixtures. Didn’t seem to be any electricity. The windows were plain. No stained glass. There was no pulpit. There weren’t even any hymn books. The place seemed like it had just been built — wasn’t even finished yet.
Dally asked. “How long you been here?”
He looked around the place with enormous affection. “Coming up on the twenty-year mark.”
I looked around. “In this place? It looks new.”
He nodded, matter-of-fact. “We like to keep it nice.”
Dally glanced out the door. “Slow crowd. You’re not puttin’ on a show just for us, are you?”
He paid her no mind. “They’ll all be here by and by.”
I had my eye on the crates under the table. “What’s in there?” I was afraid I knew the answer.
He looked at them. “Rattlers mostly. Some copperheads. Had water moccasins, but they don’t keep as long.”
Dally stared. “Snakes?”
“Uh-huh.”
“In those crates?”
“Right.”
“Jesus.”
He was firm. “Don’t start with that.”
She took a step away from the altar. “Sorry.”
He nodded. And with no more fuss than a step toward the wooden cross and a turn away from us, he talked to someone other than us. “‘Thus have they loved to wander …’ Jeremiah fourteen-ten.” And then he started singing.
“I am a poor wayfaring stranger
While journeying through this world of woe.
Yet there's no sickness toil nor danger
In that bright land to which I go.
I'm going there to see my Father
I'm going there, no more to roam,
I'm only going over yonder.
I'm only going over home."
And without a single drop or warning, there were people coming in the doorway. They were singing, too, taking the harmony parts. It’s impossible to describe how that music sounded. It was ancient, like a minor Gregorian chant, only rougher and more emotional. No individual voice was that great, but together it sounded like — God’s bellows. The Breath of Jehovah.
“I know dark clouds will gather o'er me
I know my way is rough and steep
Yet beaut'ous fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep.
I'm going there to see my Father
I'm going there, no more to roam,
I'm only going over yonder.
I'm only going over home."
And in that short span of time the joint was nearly filled. I had no idea where all the people had come from. They were all ages and sizes. Nobody was dressed up. It was like they’d just put down their chores for a minute and showed up here.
David turned around, very twinkle-in-the-eye like. Shot a glance to a somewhat stunned Ms. Oglethorpe. “Wherever two or three are gathered together.”
And the whole place erupted. “Praise His Name.”
He nodded. “Be seated.”
Everybody sat. Dally and I shoved into the group on the front row. Didn’t want to miss what the master of ceremonies had already referred to as the Big Show.
He cast his eye about. His voice was low and soothing. “Today we are concerned with little Ginny McDonner …”
Voices here and there indicated assent.
“… her road is long, her journey is rough …”
More amen-ing.
“… ‘away on a mountain, wild and bare …’ in the words of the hymn.”
His voice rose.
“Every thought in this hall must be on that little girl. Every breath in must be taken to remove the dark clouds from around her, every breath out must be made to blast her onward toward home. All else forgotten. All else forgotten.”
Here and there, parishioners were rocking back and forth. Some were mumbling low. One older woman was crying. The sky started to get dark outside, and it made the place very moody. David talked on.
“Whenever any one of us is lost, lost in the land of Canaan, wild and bare, away on a mountain, delivering wildflowers to the graves of the young women, all the wildflowers fair, rearing their lovely heads, lavender and crimson, low and sweet the scent of the lilacs blooming. Faster speeding faster breaking faster Breath of God that breaks the storm clouds like the parting of the seas. Red seas parted, black clouds part, the sun breaks through!”
Okay, believe it or not, there was a little ray of light in one of the side windows. Nothing dramatic, but some of the cloud cover was dissipating. David was hyperventilating, breathing strangely, eyes closed, and holding up his right hand high above his head.
“Light breaks through. Light breaks through! The wicked serpents slide back into the deeps and the glorious dove of the morning breaks into song into song into song. Falling, tumbling billows of light spill over the rim of heaven onto the place below and lo! Some great miracle is at hand. Some great darkness is bound to be obliterated bound to be blasted broken bal do haoth. Bal do haoth!”
With no warning, a younger man two down from Dally fell onto the floor rolling and shaking and speaking some language that sounded familiar but wasn’t. Another man farther back stood up, both arms straight up, and was shouting “Falling falling falling …”
Then the whole place erupted. People were shouting incoherently, some from their seats, most on their feet. Many were writhing on the floor.
A very old man, shoving
himself forward in a walker, made it to the crates under the altar table. He threw back the lid of the one closest to him and plunged his hand in. When he brought it back, it was filled with rattlesnakes, maybe five. He shook the hand furiously, and the snakes were twitching wildly. Then he hit himself in the face over and over again with the vipers.
Dally was pressed up against me hard enough to bust a blood vessel.
David was rocking back and forth, eyes closed tight, whispering “Following following following …” so that the word itself had little meaning, but the sound of the word was like a violent mantra.
The old man in the walker handed the snakes to a boy of twelve or so, and the boy touched the snakes to his arms, opened his shirt, touched the snakes to his chest.
Dally and I were inside the sound of the place: voices speaking meaningless phrases or inhuman languages, the rattling of feet and bodies on the wooden floor, the banging of crates and tables, the rattle of the snakes.
Something was happening to me that I couldn’t figure. I was starting to see little flashes of light, like I was blacking out. I was getting fuzzy, my sight was obscured. Before I knew it, I was staring at the golden curtain. It was the curtain I’d always seen just before I did my little trick, and there it was, big as life. The sound went muffled, and the curtain parted, and there was a little tableau vivant, just like Robert Wilson used to make. I was in the dream state, but it was nothing like it usually was. It was very calm, where usually it was chaotic. Maybe it was a reaction to the chaos that was all around me.
The scene was very clear. It was a cartoon, like a kid’s cartoon, beside a running stream. Rocky and Bullwinkle were walking on either side of Carol Anne, the little girl from the Poltergeist movies. They were moving away from the Wicked Witch from Oz, who was wearing a carpenter’s belt. Cartoon versions of Dally and me — as children — looking only a little like Boris and Natasha from the Bullwinkle show, were swimming in the water. We were all watched over by Miss Nina, the only nonfictional character around, rocking in her rocker at the water’s edge. And all around the witch dozens of ghostly figures like the lost souls in A Christmas Carol, were flying, swooping down on a pile of stones by the water, a pile of stones by a door in the ground. They were making loud spook noises. Those noises blended with the sounds in the church … and the vision dissipated like a mist. The golden curtain closed, and I was staring at the back of Dally’s head. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted ten seconds. The noise in the church was almost unbearable.
Easy as One Two Three (A Flap Tucker Mystery) Page 11