“He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Laz snarled. “He’s like a little malevolent boomerang!” Laz put the mugs into the tray between the truck’s two captain seats and started it up.
Brownie watched as they drove off.
It was really weirdly opportune. (He had learned that word while reading Working Mom’s Latch Hook Magazine.) It was like God wanted Brownie to complete Step Three and achieve his fate. Brownie had a few things to finish up, and he had to feed Oscar a few more weenies. Then, he would be all ready for Laz and Tom.
He saw the brake lights come on as Laz stopped the truck at the gate, and Tom got out to open it. The message written in the dirt on the tailgate was still loud and clear in large block letters. It read “Proud carrier of genital warts!”
* * *
Bubba was nearly certain that it would have been easier to promise his first-born child to Mephistopheles than it was to find Tee Gearheart when he really, really, really needed to find Tee Gearheart. First, he talked to Mary Lou Treadwell, who was the receptionist/emergency line operator of the Pegram County Sheriff’s Department. Well, she was actually one of three, but she liked to think she was “the.” She had dyed-red hair, double-D breasts courtesy of a plastic surgeon and her husband, and a raging case of gossipus elphantitus. If anyone would know where Tee and his wife, Poppiann, had taken their only child, it should have been Mary Lou Treadwell.
“Ain’t telling you nothing, Bubba,” Mary Lou told him when he appeared in the sheriff’s department.
“It’s real important-like,” Bubba said. “You know Brownie’s been kidnapped.”
“I know about Brownie. The Benevolent Society of Church Matrons has been thanking God for the kidnapping and praying that he stays far, far away.” Mary Lou closed her mouth determinedly. “So have the ladies down at the old folks’ home. But that’s for a whole different reason.”
“And Tee might know something to help me,” Bubba cajoled. “You know it wasn’t my idea to have you locked up when we went to rescue the beauti-uh, uh, Willodean Gray.”
“Ain’t mad about that,” Mary Lou said.
“Did Miz Demetrice do something to you?”
“No, your mama did not.”
“Then what is it?”
“I want to be a bridesmaid,” Mary Lou declared. “I heard tell you’re goin’ to have a wedding with Willodean and 62 bridesmaids and groomsmen.”
“I ain’t asked Willodean to marry me yet,” Bubba gritted. Much less decided on how many bridesmaids and groomsmen we’re going to have. Damn Lloyd Goshorn for his tale-carrying big mouth.
“Yet,” Mary Lou said breathlessly as if she had just gotten the five numbers of Mega Millions and was waiting for the sixth to drop. “Just wait until I tell—”
Bubba gulped, and it felt as though he might have swallowed part of his tongue. “Don’t go milking your neighbor’s cows, Miz Mary Lou.”
“Oh my gosh! OH MY GOSH!” Mary Lou yelled. “Bubba’s goin’ to ask Willodean to—”
“I NEED TEE GEARHEART!” Bubba yelled back because he couldn’t think of anything else to stop Mary Lou.
Mary Lou looked at Bubba suspiciously. “Why, he cain’t be a bridesmaid. Maybe a groomsman, but you’ll have to ask my husband to be my groomsman on account that Mr. Treadwell is a touch jealous about such things. Once he punched a fella’s face because the man looked at my butt. Ifin I walked down the aisle with a stranger, there would be hell to pay. OH MY GOSH!” Then she suddenly made a shrieking whooping sound as if that sixth ball had dropped and it was the right ball.
Bubba looked up and prayed. Please God, strike Mary Lou dumb for the next five minutes. Please? I swear I will be good, and I will not think lurid thoughts about Willodean for, ah, at least three days. Okay, mebe twenty-four hours.
* * *
Miz Demetrice counted the $5000 again. She had a plain brown paper bag from the grocery store, 150 twenty dollar bills, 195 ten dollar bills, and 5 rolls of quarters. The bank clerk had looked at her curiously the day before but hadn’t commented overly. Now all she had to wait for was the kidnapper to call again with the details. Of course, it would help if Bubba figured out who it was before she had to go meet up with the man.
Miz Demetrice shoveled the loot back into the paper bag and looked out the back window. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She really wanted some of Miz Adelia’s special tea, but the housekeeper had hidden it after the FBI entered the house. Since Miz Adelia was gone visiting her mother, there was no telling where it was to be located, thus, lemon chamomile would have to do for the moment.
The dogs started barking, and Miz Demetrice saw a disheveled figure limping past the back window. It was Miss Hornbuckle of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She was wearing a hospital gown on the top and sweats on the bottom which had been hastily cut to make room for the very large cast she had on her right leg. The dogs tried to bite the cast and were thusly dissuaded. Hornbuckle also carried both a shovel and a metal detector which she swung half-heartedly at the dogs.
Miz Demetrice sighed. It was true that Precious wouldn’t kill any trespassers, but damage could occur. Special Agent Hornbuckle did have a weapon, however. Bubba would probably be very upset if his dog got shot while trying to gnaw on a federal agent, even if the federal agent was trespassing in a highly illegal manner. It was clear that Precious wasn’t certain that the special agent was a welcome visitor or not and wasn’t trying very hard to chew on her federalness. Bogie followed suit. Still…
The Snoddy matriarch was about to go outside and call off both dogs when she saw Hornbuckle throw them each a raw steak and make her hobbling escape. Where had the steaks been kept?
The phone rang, and Miz Demetrice set her shoulders squarely. Oh Lord, what now? She arose and made for the nearest telephone.
“Snoddy Mansion,” Miz Demetrice said into the receiver as she put it to the side of her head.
“Ma’am,” the quavering voice came. Miz Demetrice leaned to the side in order to see if Hornbuckle was getting away quickly enough. It turned out that the special agent could move more swiftly than she would have imagined. That cast must weigh twenty pounds. I could have killed Elgin with a cast that time he broke my arm. Something to remember.
“The kidnapper, I presume,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” the kidnapper said. There was a distinct warble in his voice. “Um, boy’s okay, but I got to let him go now.”
“Well, that is the point of kidnapping him, is it not?” Miz Demetrice asked politely.
“Yes, shore it is,” the kidnapper said nervously. “I don’t reckon we care much about the money no more. I think we’ve seen the errors of our ways, and we swear we won’t do this no more, ever again.”
“Okay,” Miz Demetrice said agreeably. So there’s more than one kidnapper, she thought. There would have to be to keep ahead of Brownie. An errant thought occurred to her. Whatever could the boy have done to leave a grown criminal in such a state?
“I just want to make certain you’re home when we drop off the boy and that, that, that, uh, you, um, keep him with you,” the kidnapper finished in a rush. “Keep him right there on the Snoddy Estate so that he cain’t go nowhere. I mean, chain him down ifin you have to.”
“Of course, we would do that,” Miz Demetrice said. Not the chaining part, but it’s certainly a notion to consider for later.
“I mean, he’s a smart little booger and all,” the kidnapper added. Miz Demetrice could tell the man was on the edge of hysteria. She had, after all, caused such a feeling in a few other individuals. His tone fairly resonated with fear, and he spoke rapidly, not thinking about the information he was imparting. “I don’t ever think I would have done some of the stuff he does. But Ma-ah, uh, is going to be out of the hospital tomorrow, and she’s goin’ to start asking questions because she’ll be feeling better so we don’t dare linger. I’m right sorry we ever tried this business. Shishkabob McCandless never said nothing about all these unhappy co
nsequences. Never did. I reckon that’s why Shishkabob is still in the joint. Do you understand, ma’am?”
“You’re terribly sorry, won’t do it again, and have learned the error of your ways,” Miz Demetrice summed it up.
“That’s right, ma’am,” he replied promptly. “I hear tell you’re a clever woman, and I reckon you understand how a pair of fellas could make a mistake. An awful mistake. I swear we won’t even jaywalk again.”
“Oh, I understand,” Miz Demetrice affirmed.
“Good,” the kidnapper all but sighed into the phone.
“But I don’t think you’ve paid enough for your transgressions,” Miz Demetrice pronounced. The words were imparted to produce a feeling that was not dissimilar to the feeling a hapless chicken has when the axe is descending upon his neck.
There was abject silence on the other end. It was utter misery at its very sorriest.
Finally, the kidnapper said, “The kid wrote…things on my tailgate. I got people stopping me in the street asking me what the hell I’m about and looking at me like I got a terminal disease. And I ain’t. That stuff doesn’t go away. Women will be muttering about that for years. God forbid Ma-uh, um, should find out about that. He gave us coffee cups this morning and when I figured out there weren’t nothing wrong with the coffee, I drank it, and he had written something on the bottom of the cup. It said ‘I’m a douche!’ and he wrote ‘I eat boogers’ on the bottom of T-uh- T’s cup. We done carried those into the hospital and drank them in the waiting room with all them people staring at us funny-like. And I thought I had ruptured something yesterday when I went to the little boy’s room. Ruptured! I heard popping and there was blood, at least I thought it was blood. But it turned out it was Taco Bell Fire Sauce packets under the toilet seat.”
Taco Bell Fire Sauce packets under the toilet seat, Miz Demetrice thought. Something to think about in the future. Do I need to check the bottom of all my coffee mugs? Probably.
“We’ve paid, ma’am,” the kidnapped said pleadingly. “We have paid. Please take him back. For the love of God, you have to take him back.”
“No.”
Wasn’t this what Bubba had meant? Miz Demetrice thought about it. Probably not. The kidnapper(s) were trying to return Brownie practically gift wrapped, and I’m playing around. His mother is in the hospital trying not to have the new baby prematurely, and his father is about to have a stroke. But…
“No?” the kidnapper repeated in a state of obvious shock.
The truth was that it sounded like Brownie was having a good time, which meant he wasn’t being mistreated. Virtna was in the hospital under a doctor’s care, and since Fudge was with Virtna, he was also in the hospital, and near where a doctor could care for him.
“No,” Miz Demetrice said. “I think you need to pay us to take him back.”
Chapter 12
Friday, November 15th
Brownie Concludes
Bubba pulled up a chair and waited for Mary Lou Treadwell as she attempted to locate Tee Gearheart. She stopped to answer various calls while she did so, and it was grating on Bubba’s nerves.
“Yes, I know, Miz Lyles,” Mary Lou said patiently to the phone. Bubba didn’t feel patient. She went on, “You do live right next to the clinic, and them folks aren’t there because they’re feeling good. I’m shore they make a lot of noise over the course of a day. A man in a suit rubbing his what on a what?”
Bubba wished for Willodean Gray, but she was out on a call. Sheriff John was also following up a lead on Brownie’s kidnapping. He would have gone over to Big Joe’s, but Big Joe was still sore about the time Bubba had punched him in the jaw.
“I’ll send a deputy over,” Mary Lou said. “We cain’t have a man rubbing his hoo-ha on a whatchamacallit.”
Mary Lou finished up with that call and said, “Let’s see. We tried Tee’s mother, cousin, brother, and his third grade teacher. I tried Poppiann’s sister and her best friend. We ain’t having a lot of luck with people being home or answering their phones. It is Friday, after all. People are gearing up for Thanksgiving. And did you know your cousin-in-law is doing much better today?”
“Virtna?” Bubba hadn’t thought much about his cousin’s wife. “That’s good. Doc Goodjoint will take care of her. She’ll feel a lot better when we get Brownie back.”
Mary Lou tapped her purple-tipped fingernails on her keyboard. She hummed the “Wedding March” song while drumming.
Bubba’s teeth began to grind together. “Can you think of anyone who would know where Tee went off to?” he asked impatiently.
“I thought of everyone I could, Bubba,” Mary Lou said. “Let me ask one of the other jailors ifin they know.”
Just then the doors opened, and Willodean marched through, dragging Newt Durley beside her. Bubba winced because Newt Durley smelled like he had been rolling in garbage. That was pretty much par for Newt’s course on account of the fact that he was an alcoholic and was often known to sleep in odd spots. Bubba looked closer. Newt actually had a crumpled ice cream sandwich wrapper on his shoulder and a piece of orange rind stuck to his forehead.
“Bubba!” Newt said gleefully. The word sounded more like “Buhhhbah!” “I done fell off the wagon again! I fell off the turnip truck, too. Might have bin a Big Wheel I was riding, also, that I fell off. And there was definitely a trash dumpster involved. I don’t think I fell off that.”
Willodean pushed Newt into the seat furthest away from anyone else. Bubba was appreciative of her assertiveness.
“I didn’t know it was such a tall wagon!” Newt added. “You know my brother has been soaking fruit in his shine? It turns out that peaches in moonshine tastes purty dang good. You kin really fill up on that fruit. Hic.”
“Hey, Bubba,” Willodean said. She smiled tentatively at him. He started to get up, but she waved him off. “I smell almost as good as he does seeing as how I had to climb in a dumpster to get him out.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Newt. Then she brushed coffee grounds off her shoulder.
“What’d he do?”
“I believe he and Lloyd Goshorn decided to eat a flat of the alcoholic peaches, and then they decided to see if they could race trash dumpsters down the hill near the market. So they got the dumpsters about ten feet away when Newt climbed in and fell asleep in it. I don’t know what happened to Lloyd. The people at the market retrieved their dumpsters and found Newt inside a nest of garbage sleeping like a baby.”
“Better than a Sealy Posturepedic bed,” Newt declared.
“Now I’ve got to make sure Lloyd hasn’t poisoned himself,” Willodean said. “And I’ve got to call Doc Goodjoint to come make a cell call to make sure Newt isn’t over the edge of needing to be in the hospital.”
“I hate hospitals,” Newt said. “I’ve had my stomach pumped four times.” He held up his hand and showed all five digits. “Four times.”
“What are you doing, Bubba?”
“Still looking for that athletic shoe,” he said. “Turns out the thrift shop sold the whole kit and caboodle to my mother, who made them into gift bags for prisoners leaving the jail who don’t have anything.”
“And the great circle of life continues,” Willodean said.
“Gift bags for prisoners,” Mary Lou repeated.
“I’ve had Mary Lou trying to track Tee Gearheart down to see who he gave the bags to,” Bubba went on.
“Tee took the wife and baby to see his maiden aunt in Galveston,” Newt announced blithely.
“How do you know that?” Bubba asked.
“I was in jail last week on account of something to do with a case of King Cobra.” Newt squinted at them. “Tha’s the worst beer I ever had. My right hand to God.”
“Gift bags for prisoners,” Mary Lou said again, half questioning.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything,” Willodean said. “I’ve never had so many people refuse to help with an investigation. Once they hear Brownie was kidnapped, they shut right up. It’s horrible.�
�
“Gift bags for prisoners,” Mary Lou said a third time.
“I reckon Brownie can be a right handful, but it ain’t right that so many folks don’t want to help,” Bubba said.
“I give out the gift bags,” Mary Lou threw in. “Not Tee.”
“Now I need to find Tee and— what was that, Miz Mary Lou?” Bubba asked.
“I give out the gift bags,” Mary Lou said. “There was one to a fella who came in because he was nekkid as a jaybird. He got caught doing the whoopsie-loopsie with his girlfriend who happened to be married. The husband came home and chased him down the street. He dint have time to get dressed. It would have been just the husband who came in, but the fella decided to pick up a rake and hit the husband over the head.”
“Where’s this fella at now?”
“The hospital at Tyler,” Mary Lou said. “The husband woke up at our hospital and found the fella as soon as he posted bail. Now the husband’s in jail, but he dint need a gift bag.”
“Who else got one?” Bubba demanded.
Mary Lou touched her mouth with the end of a purple-tinted nail. “Let’s see. Daniel Lewis Gollihugh came in on account that Trixiebelle left him again, and he took it out on Grubbo’s Tavern. At one point he apparently ripped off all his clothes and was about to dump gasoline on his head, when Willodean maced him.”
Willodean shrugged. “It took the whole can. He wore a tablecloth into the jail.”
“Naw,” Bubba said. “Dan wouldn’t have done it. Once he got sober again he went back to Buddhaism.”
“Then there was, um,” Mary Lou said and paused, “let me think.”
“Who?”
“Yeah, who?” Newt asked. “Or is it whom? I wish I had another peach. Juwww-seee.”
“Oh, of course, Tayla was out of town that week at a latch hook convention,” Mary Lou said positively, “so she couldn’t bail him out. Tayla goes to a lot of them latch hook cons.”
“Who?”
“Well, you know she took him in when her son got out of prison. Laz and him have always been besties. Sometimes they’re in jail at the same time.”
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