by Anne George
“Of course she does. I can’t imagine what she thinks she knows anyway. Probably nothing.” Tammy Sue rubbed her hands down the side of Fred’s robe. “On the other hand, she and Larry own two apartments on Valley Avenue that he rents out to acts that come into town. She handles them, and I know that that Russian guy was staying there. She told the police, but I think they already knew. So I keep thinking maybe she does know something.”
“Maybe she’ll talk to Buddy.”
Tammy Sue shrugged again. “Maybe. I doubt she really knows anything, though. Olivia gets melodramatic if she stubs her toe.”
The back door opened, and Sister called hello. “Well, aren’t you looking better,” she said to Tammy Sue.
“No. I look like hell, but I do feel a little better.”
“Well, that’s good. Are you ready to go back to the hospital?”
“Just let me get dressed.” Tammy Sue headed down the hall.
“She does look like hell,” Sister whispered.
“I heard that,” Tammy Sue called.
It didn’t bother Sister at all. “What big ears you have, child,” she said.
“The better to hear you with.”
These two were going to be all right.
Eighteen
Two things happened the next morning. Larry Ludmiller regained consciousness and Dusk Armstrong went missing. I heard about Dusk from Mitzi, who came running over as soon as she saw that I was home from walking Woofer.
“She’s been gone since yesterday,” Mitzi said, slightly out of breath. “Flora Gibbons just called and told me. They’ve called in the police and everything, and Flora says that Bernice is beside herself with worry.”
“Well, Lord, I guess so. I talked to Bernice yesterday afternoon, and she said then that she didn’t know where Dusk was. She wasn’t worried about her, though, just thought she was out somewhere. She was upset because the big grizzly bear they keep in their foyer had been knocked over.” I suddenly remembered something. “Oh, my Lord, Mitzi, she said the bear looked as if it had been attacked by wild animals.”
Mitzi and I sat down at the kitchen table and looked at each other.
“Wild animals?”
“That’s what she said.”
“That sure doesn’t sound good, does it?”
I shook my head. “It sounds like there was a hell of a fight going on in that foyer.”
“While Dusk was being kidnapped.”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. But I had a good idea that Mitzi was right. And Dusk, tiny as she was, was a superb athlete. She would have given any would-be attacker a good fight.
“It’s got to all be connected in some way.” Mitzi said. “I don’t see how, though, do you?”
I got up, grabbed a Post-it pad and pencil from the junk drawer, and sat back down. Every teacher learns about visual aids in Education 101. I informed Mitzi of this as I set to work.
“This is Griffin Mooncloth,” I said, writing his name on the first slip and sticking him to the table.
Mitzi nodded. “Draw an X on him. He’s dead.”
I drew an X. Then I wrote Dusk on a slip and put it right below Griffin’s. Day’s went to the side of that trio. Then I wrote Larry, Tammy Sue, Buddy, and Olivia, and I stuck their slips to the table at an angle so Mitzi and I could both see them.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s talk.”
“Well, Larry couldn’t have killed Griffin Mooncloth because the same person tried to kill him. Draw a half X across him, Patricia Anne, for half dead.”
I drew the half X. “But he could have, and somebody could have been taking revenge on him.” I pointed to Day Armstrong’s name. “Maybe her.”
“Do you think she was in love with him?” Mitzi pointed to Griffin’s name.
“Maybe.”
We studied the names. Then Mitzi said, “Why don’t we do it this way?” She moved three slips to the top, Griffin, Larry, and Dusk. “The murdered, the half-murdered, and the missing. Now what connection is there?”
“Griffin was married to Dusk, and he rented an apartment from Larry.”
“Hmm. And you learned how to do this in Education 101?”
“Sometimes it works. You want some coffee?”
Mitzi nodded that she did. I stood up and looked down at the names on the table. The answer was there somewhere, I knew. I just couldn’t see it.
That was when the phone rang, and Mary Alice told me that Larry had regained consciousness. He was still in intensive care, though.
“Does he know who hit him?” I glanced down at the names, ready to move one.
“He doesn’t remember a thing, Virgil says. He doesn’t even know what he was doing at the theater. I told Virgil I saw this movie on Lifetime not long ago, and the actress who used to be the bionic woman was wandering around in a supermarket with blood all over her blouse, except she didn’t know about the blood because she had on a coat, and she didn’t know who in the world she was, not even after her husband came to claim her and took her home. It took her months before she realized that he was the one who tried to kill her. Her husband. At least I think that’s what happened. So, it’s not unusual not to remember. And I saw a story on 20/20 where the woman was in a wreck and never remembered her husband, and he had to marry her again.” Sister paused for a breath. “They’re real happy.”
“Does Larry know who Tammy Sue is?”
“I hope so. It would be strange having to date your husband, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would. Sister? I’m going to hang up and think about this.” I slid the phone onto the cradle. “Larry Ludmiller woke up,” I told Mitzi. “He doesn’t remember anything.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I saw this movie on Lifetime—”
I poured our coffee while I heard about Lindsay Wagner’s amnesia again. Funny, but neither of them could remember the ending. Something to do with the husband being no good, though.
“Tell me about Olivia,” Mitzi said, pointing toward her name with the end of the sugar spoon.
“I’ve only met her a couple of times, but she doesn’t seem friendly. She’s apparently in love with Buddy Stuckey, who doesn’t return her affections.” I put a teaspoon of sugar in my coffee and stirred it. “Tammy Sue said yesterday that she thinks Olivia might run him down, though. Stay after him until he gets so used to her that she moves into his life permanently.”
Mitzi nodded. “That’s what happened to my brother. His wife grabbed on to him like a tick before he was even out of high school. Everywhere he went, there she’d be. He never stood a chance.”
“Is he happy?”
“I think he is. He just sits back and lets her adore him.”
“There are all kinds of marriages, aren’t there?” I said, thinking of Marilyn and Charles Boudreau who had “worked something out.”
“Thank goodness.” She tapped Tammy Sue’s name with her fingernail. “What about them?”
“They seem to be fine. So far.” I told Mitzi about Tammy Sue’s plans for a Martha Stewart home when Larry got well.
“Probably won’t last long,” she said sensibly. “I made one of those wreaths last Christmas. Took me forever, and I stole so much holly from yards, it’s a miracle I didn’t get arrested.”
I also told her what Tammy Sue had said about her mother’s housekeeping. “Said you could eat off the floor it was so clean, and she ironed Virgil’s underwear. I think it upset Mary Alice. If that’s what Virgil’s expecting, she knows she’s in trouble.”
“Huh. Mary Alice doesn’t have anything to worry about. All she has to do is parade around in those purple boots and Virgil will be happy. Every marriage is different.”
“True.” We grinned at each other.
“What about the Elvis impersonator here?” Mitzi pointed to Virgil, Jr.’s name. “Seems to me that it’s a little strange to dress up like Elvis all the time.”
“Being strange doesn’t make you a murderer, thank God.” I looked at the name
, too. “Besides, he doesn’t have a motive.”
“How about the others?”
“Day and Dusk are the only two that I can see who have a motive. And we know that Day had the knife.”
“And Larry could have seen her.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I agreed. But even as I said it, doubt was jiggling in my brain like lines on a seismograph. She had been protecting someone when she put the switchblade in my purse. Someone she loved.
I reached over, tore off another Post-it sheet and wrote Bernice on it.
Mitzi’s eyes widened. “Bernice? Why?”
“Protecting her daughter. If she knew that Griffin Mooncloth was harassing Dusk, she might have done him in.”
“No way, Patricia Anne. She brings blueberry muffins every third Sunday for the coffee we have after church.”
“We’re just throwing out thoughts here, Mitzi.”
“Well, unthrow that one.” She reached over and carefully unstuck each name from the table. “This is giving me the creeps.”
“Me, too,” I agreed. “Let’s go send Haley an e-mail. The baby’s moving.”
“Really? Oh, she’s into the best part of being pregnant, where you know it’s real.”
And that’s what we did. After Mitzi had left, though, I pulled the Post-its apart and stuck them back on the table. Muffin came to sit in my lap while I studied them.
“Dusk Armstrong is missing,” Sister announced as she came in.
“I know. Mitzi told me. It’s scary.” I was sitting in the den, a book open in my hands, and deep in thought. If you had asked me what book I was reading, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.
“Probably ran away. I’ve always thought she was involved in the Russian guy’s murder.” Sister looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Reading.” I closed the book. Actually I had been thinking about what Mitzi and I had been talking about, how different every marriage is. “Do you think Mama was happy?” I asked.
“Our mama?”
“Of course our mama. Do you think she was happy married to Papa?”
“What are you reading?”
I held the book up and showed her it had nothing to do with my question. “Mitzi and I were talking about marriage, and I just started remembering things. Like her throwing a plate at him one time.”
Sister laughed. “She dumped a whole boiler full of black-eyed peas over him once. Don’t you remember that?”
I didn’t. “Where was I?”
“Out playing, I guess.”
“What did Papa do?”
“Scraped a lot of them off and ate them.” Sister chuckled. “He’d made one remark too many about her smoking.”
“Smoking? Cigarettes?”
“Out in the garage all the time. I think she finally quit because it was too cold out there in the winter-time.”
“Are you making this up?”
“Of course I’m not making it up. And close your mouth, Mouse. They were ordinary people just like you and me. And, yes, I think they were happy most of the time. Papa admired her feistiness.”
“Mama smoked?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mouse. Why are you worried about that now?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “It’s just that suddenly there are so many changes. You and Virgil getting married, Haley and Philip having a baby, Marilyn and Charles.”
“Speaking of which, Virgil and I had a long talk last night.”
“And?”
“It ended up with him picking Bubba Cat up and kissing him several times on the nose.”
“You’re kidding.”
“He swears he loves cats, that Neena, his wife, was allergic to them. He says that’s why she had to keep the house so clean, too.”
“Makes sense. Were you wearing your purple boots?”
We grinned at each other.
“I’m going over to the hospital to check on Larry and see if Tammy Sue wants to get out for a while. You want to go?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Sure you do. You’re just sitting around here moping. Go put on something decent. I want to go by Parisian and look at shoes, too.”
“Mama smoked?” I asked again as I stood up.
“Lucky Strikes.” Sister threw a pillow at me.
How could I not have known that?
“Selective memory,” Sister said as we cruised down Twentieth Street a half hour later, and I posed the question. “Don’t worry about it.” She turned on her left signal. “I don’t remember high school.”
“Really? Was it traumatic or something?”
“Of course not. I just don’t remember it.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Only when I go to the reunions.” Sister drove slowly down Sixth Avenue. “Damn, I wish somebody would come out of a parking place. I hate the deck.”
But the deck was what we had to settle for. Both of us were out of breath by the time we got to the intensive care waiting room.
Tammy Sue was asleep on a sofa, Aunt Maude was crocheting, and Buddy, in his Elvis suit, was looking through a Sports Illustrated. Aunt Maude looked up and put her finger to her lips.
“How are things going?” Mary Alice whispered.
Aunt Maude put her crocheting down and motioned for us to sit down. “He’s in and out of it. They’re giving him something for pain that’s making him sleep. It’s regular sleep, though.”
Buddy twisted the magazine into a knot. “That’s what I’m going to do to the bastard’s neck who did this to him.”
“Oh, hush, Buddy. Lord have mercy.” Aunt Maude nodded her head toward Tammy Sue. “This is the first time I’ve seen her sleeping this hard.”
We sat down. It was a good day in intensive care. There were only three other people in the waiting room.
“I know you’re exhausted,” Sister said.
“I am. Buddy’s going to take me home in a few minutes. We’re just waiting for Olivia to show up.”
“And then we’re leaving,” Buddy added.
“And Larry doesn’t have any idea what happened?” I asked.
“None. The last thing he remembers is eating breakfast. Said he had chocolate chip pancakes.” Aunt Maude smiled. “He never had chocolate chip pancakes in his life, but the detective said that sounded good, and he wanted the recipe.”
“Tim Hawkins?”
“I don’t remember. There were two of them.” She looked toward the door. “Here’s Olivia.”
Olivia looked much better than she had the day before. She looked as if she had had some sleep, and she had put on some makeup. Aunt Maude pointed toward the sleeping Tammy Sue, and Olivia sat down quietly. “He okay?” she whispered.
“Sleeping.” Aunt Maude stood, put her crocheting in a bag, and said that she had to go home before she dropped.
“Let’s go then.” Buddy jumped up. “I’ll get the car and meet you at the front door.” He was in such a hurry that he bumped Tammy Sue’s feet.
“What,” she said, opening her eyes.
“Sorry, Sis. I’ll talk to you later.” And he hurried out of the waiting room. I glanced at Olivia, who was looking after him yearningly. I had a feeling that this tick knew she wasn’t going to stick.
Tammy Sue yawned. “Hey, y’all.”
“We just came by to check on you,” Sister said. “To see how Larry’s doing.”
“He’s conscious. But I know Daddy told you that.” She rubbed her eyes. “He doesn’t remember a thing, though. The police have been questioning him.”
“Well, would you like to get out for a while?” Sister asked. “Patrcia Anne and I are going to Parisian to look for shoes. It would do you good to walk around some, get some fresh air.”
“Go ahead,” Olivia urged her. “I’ll go in and visit Larry.”
Tammy Sue stiffened. “You are not. Not without me. I’m not going to have you upsetting him with your wild tales about it being
your fault he got hurt.”
“Well, maybe it was,” Olivia said. “I knew Dusk Armstrong was involved with the Mooncloth guy. They were having a knockdown, drag-out argument at his apartment. I heard them when I went to open up the one next door, and then I saw Dusk run out. If I’d told the police about that when he was killed, she wouldn’t have been free to hit Larry.”
“Why didn’t you tell them?” Tammy Sue asked.
“Wasn’t any of my business,” was Olivia’s smug answer.
Please, God, don’t let this tick burrow into Virgil, Jr.
Mary Alice stepped between the two of them, which was a good idea. “Come on, Tammy Sue. Let’s go down to the cafeteria and get something to drink. It’s easy to get dehydrated sitting around a place like this.”
Tammy Sue leaned around Sister and spoke to Olivia. “You go in there without me, and I will kill you. And nobody will blame me. I’ll start with your skinny toes. I’ll cut off every one of them one at a time. And then your legs and your arms and your ears. And then—”
Olivia blanched. Tammy Sue was still dissecting her, and she had gotten as far as her squinty eyes, when Mary Alice led her from the room. One woman sitting in the corner clapped. “Better be careful, honey. I think she means it.”
I figured she did, too.
The most you can say for hospital cafeterias is that they try. And University Hospital has tried. The food is decent, their health rating proudly posted above the cashier is a ninety-nine, but let’s face it: The ambience doesn’t make the grade. Fiberglass trays, metal tables, fluorescent lights, green scrubs, and white coats. The sweetest elevator music in the world wouldn’t help out here.
“Vanilla-and-chocolate swirl?” Sister pointed to the frozen yogurt.
Tammy Sue shook her head. “Just something to drink. Tea?”
“Me, too,” I said.
She and I found a table by a window. Outside on Nineteenth Street the traffic was moving well. Spring sun angled through the window and drew a line across the floor of the cafeteria.
“Is it warm outside?” Tammy Sue asked.
“Nice. You want to go out and walk around a little?”
“I’d better not.” She reached over, got a paper napkin from the dispenser, and wiped the top of the already immaculate table. “You think Olivia knows what she’s talking about? That Dusk Armstrong killed Griffin Mooncloth and hit Larry with the bat?”