Malpractice in Maggody

by Joan Hess

  “And she’s gonna tell us? I swear, Estelle, sometimes I wonder if you was sitting under a hair dryer when the Good Lord was passing out the brains.”

  “I do not appreciate that remark.”

  Holding in a grin, Ruby Bee started browning a second batch of ribs. “Then why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “Maybe I will,” Estelle said loftily. She went out to the barroom and across the dance floor to the front door. By the time she reached her car, however, she’d realized it might be wise to avoid Arly for the time being. After a moment of consideration, she drove home and began to search in earnest for the gun.

  Brother Verber liked to have wet his pants when the phone rang in the rectory. It was the third time since the senator had left the Assembly Hall. There was no way she could be calling, he told himself as he crouched in the hall. There wasn’t a local directory where she could look up his number. Surely she’d forgotten all about him by now. Still, he ducked under the window as he went into the kitchen and found another bottle of sacramental wine, and stayed low until he was back in his bedroom. The blinds were closed just in case she decided to peek in the window.

  He sat down on the bed, refilled his glass with wine, and sank back to mull over possible topics for his sermon in the morning. Something about the sanctity of the body, he thought, reaching under the covers to make sure no electrodes had been attached while he’d been dozing. Jesus had brought Lazarus back from the dead. There ought to be a way to use that.

  “I must say I’m disappointed in all of you,” Mrs. Jim Bob began after calling the meeting to order. She, Elsie, Eula, and Lottie, being officers, were seated at the table in the sun room. Joyce and Millicent were sitting on wicker chairs, while Heloise Vermer, the newest member of the Missionary Society, stood by the window, admiring the flowers in pots on the patio. Heloise was aware that she’d been blackballed several times over the last few years on account of rumors that she drank alcohol, so she was being mindful of her manners.

  Mrs. Jim Bob continued. “We are now in more danger than ever. A young woman was murdered at the Stonebridge Foundation only two days ago. Had our surveillance not slacked off, this would never had happened.”

  “I don’t see how we could have done squat from the persimmon tree across the road,” said Eula. “All we could see was the front porch and driveway.”

  “And you can’t see anything in the dark,” Joyce pointed out.

  “Besides,” added Lottie, “you already said the girl was killed in the garden behind the building.”

  Mrs. Jim Bob tightened her grip on the gavel. “That is beside the point. Had the men in Maggody agreed to cover the night shift, one of them might have seen the murderer escape and apprehended him. Instead, we allowed them to continue drinking whiskey, watching ball games on TV, and shirking their obligations to our community.” She held up her free hand. “I will admit that Jim Bob is among the worst of them. You would think that as mayor, he’d be the first to step forward and volunteer. He did not, despite all my prayers and appeals to the Almighty Lord to encourage him to do his duty.”

  “I hear he was doing his duty elsewhere,” Eula said, snickering. “Out at the Pot O’ Gold.”

  “As well as getting up a poker game,” said Millicent, who was still irked by the argument she’d had with Jeremiah at noon. “Gambling is illegal, as well as sinful. It doesn’t reflect well on this town when the mayor himself is encouraging good Christian men to indulge in this sort of sacrilegious activity.”

  Mrs. Jim Bob ignored Eula. “I do agree with you, Millicent, and I’ll put a stop to it when Jim Bob comes home for dinner. The mayor is supposed to set a good example, not lead others down that dangerous path to eternal damnation. Brother Verber has been off somewhere all afternoon. When he gets back, I’ll make sure he addresses gambling in the sermon tomorrow morning.”

  “His car’s parked by the rectory,” Elsie volunteered. “I happened to notice when I was driving over here.”

  All of them knew that Elsie always “happened to notice” every last detail of what anybody was doing, who they talked to at the supermarket, what they bought, and how often they skipped church. She was particularly keen on taking notes about what the high school girls were wearing or which of the boys slipped out of the gym for a smoke. She devoted an hour each day to calling their parents, as well as anybody else who might be interested. She’d had twenty-seven years of practice and missed very little.

  “I am aware of that,” Mrs. Jim Bob said coolly. “I have also called him several times, but he must have gone out for a walk to appreciate the Lord’s handiwork. Let us each take a moment to reflect on the beautiful spring we have been blessed with this year.” She lowered her head and tried to think how to nudge the conversation into the possibility of a female mayor.

  “Oh, my God!” said Heloise. She pointed out the window. “There’s somebody down there at the edge of the woods.”

  Reflection was put on hold while the ladies stood up and peered in the direction Heloise was pointing.

  “I don’t see anybody,” said Lottie. She moved her purse to her lap and patted it to make sure she had her handgun next to her reading glasses and wallet.

  “Me, neither,” Elsie said, disappointed that she hadn’t seen one of the mental patients flapping around like a lame duck.

  “I’m sure I saw somebody,” Heloise insisted. “It was a woman, dressed in blue.”

  Mrs. Jim Bob elbowed Eula aside so she could get a better look. “I hope you haven’t been drinking today, Heloise. It can affect your eyesight, along with your judgment. The only thing I see is a blue jay on the top of the fence. Are you quite sure you didn’t catch a glimpse of it?”

  Heloise’s eyes filled with tears. “I know exactly what I saw, and I don’t care to be insulted like that. If you think I can’t tell the difference between a woman dressed in blue and a bird, then—then you’re the one who’s been drinking!”

  “How dare you?” sputtered Mrs. Jim Bob. “I never touch alcohol! I am a good Christian woman. I read the Scriptures every single morning while I have my coffee, and I keep a Bible in every bedroom. Just who do you think organizes the rummage sale every summer? Who makes sure there are paper plates for the potluck suppers on Wednesday after the prayer meeting? What’s more, I pray for the little heathen children in Africa almost every night before I go to bed.”

  “You never touch alcohol?” Heloise shot back. “My Marvin drove by your house the morning after those Civil War reenactors left, and he said there were so many bottles they were spilling out of your garbage can.”

  Mrs. Jim Bob cast around for a diversion. “Didn’t I hear that Marvin was arrested last fall for hunting without a license? Maybe you should worry more about his sinfulness instead of making wild accusations.” She picked up the gavel and banged it on the table. “This meeting is adjourned! We won’t have another meeting until I’ve had time to take a hard look at the membership roster.”

  No one dared speak. They picked up their purses, filed out of the sun room, and went to their respective vehicles. Lottie was disappointed she hadn’t had a chance to fire her gun. Elsie was real sorry Mrs. Jim Bob had ended the meeting so abruptly, since she’d have liked to hear more about the liquor bottles. Lottie decided to go back to the high school and make sure Darla Jean and Heather were still hard at work on the plans for the exhibit at the county fair. Heloise was so furious she could barely get the key in the ignition. Millicent and Eula were walking side by side, both thinking hard.

  In the kitchen, Perkin’s eldest was holding on to the mop handle. She looked as if she was thinking, too, but it was hard to tell with her. More than likely, it was just gas.

  16

  I stopped by the PD to see if Jack had left a message on the answering machine. He hadn’t. I debated calling him, voted against it, and grabbed my overnight bag to dump in my apartment. Roy Stiver was sitting in a bent willow rocking chair outside the antiques store, dressed in overalls, lying
in wait for a couple of tourists to stop. Most of them figured they could outwit an ol’ country boy. For the record, Roy winters in Florida and collects first editions of nineteenth-century British poets.

  “Hey,” I said as I stepped onto the porch.

  “Back so soon?”

  I stopped. “Back from where?”

  Roy stuck an unlit corncob pipe in his mouth. “Springfield, of course. I used to know a gal up there, name of Peggy Sue Kawalski. She was a right pretty thing, with big violet eyes, dimples, and a heart-shaped mouth. We’d go to a tavern out by a lake and dance till the sun rose over the mountains. When she died from a spider bite, it darn near broke my heart. To this day, I’ve never danced again.”

  “Save it for the tourists. You seen anything peculiar today?”

  “Depends on what you mean by ‘peculiar.’ Raz drove by with water sloshing out of the back of his truck, most likely in case Marjorie got dust up her snout and wanted to take a dip. There’s something kind of unnatural about that relationship, if you ask me. ’Course, you didn’t.” He took a pouch of tobacco out of his pocket and filled his pipe. It took him two or three matches before he got it smoldering to his satisfaction. “There must have been a meeting of the Missionary Society at Mrs. Jim Bob’s house a while back; all of the fine Christian ladies drove by, headed in that direction. Jim Bob’s getting up a poker game for tonight, but it’s Saturday, so that ain’t peculiar. Joyce Lambertino stopped long enough to ask me if I’d seen Larry Joe today. I told her I hadn’t, which is the truth, so help me God. I may have heard he was goin’ fishing this afternoon with Piglet Buchanon, but I didn’t actually see him.”

  I was getting impatient with all his hillbilly blather. “Have you seen an older woman with white hair?”

  Roy puffed contentedly on his pipe. “Reckon I did. I went inside mebbe an hour ago to take care of some personal business, and I saw her out back in the pasture. For a minute, I thought it was Dahlia’s granny, but this lady was tall and moving faster than a snake slitherin’ through a coon carcass.”

  “Which way was she headed?” I asked.

  “There a reason why you’re looking for her?”

  “Yes, Roy, there’s a reason. Which way was she headed?”

  “Toward Earl’s house, but that don’t mean she didn’t keep right on going. That place is such a sty I can smell it from here. If Eileen doesn’t get back afore too long, I’m gonna rent a bulldozer and flatten it. And if Earl’s inside, it’ll be no great loss. There are already way too many Buchanons in this county, and they breed like fruit flies. If I were you, I’d pack my bags and head for Springfield.”

  I forced myself to smile. “Thank you ever so much for your advice, Roy. It warms my cockles to know you take such an interest in me.”

  “You ain’t got any cockles, and I’m not all that interested.” He put a battered straw hat on his head and rocked back. “Why don’t you run along and find this white-haired woman? I feel a snooze comin’ on.”

  I stalked past him and climbed the steps to my apartment. It looked even crappier, now that I’d seen the apartments at the Stonebridge Foundation. I tried not to think of the condo I’d lived in during the brief duration of my marriage. It had been decorated by a professional, and attention had been given to every square inch of it, from the volumes of books arranged by color on the built-in bookshelves to the tidy tassels of the window treatments. The throw pillows color-coordinated with the ashtrays. The sterile kitchen with marble countertops, Tuscan floor tiles, and bronze sink fixtures.

  Too bad it had also been furnished with a first-class asshole.

  I dropped my bag on the floor, intimidating the cockroaches into taking temporary cover, and studied myself in the mirror. Harve’s remark about second helpings had not been missed, nor had it been welcomed. I decided I looked pretty darn good. My hair was shiny, my complexion a bit softer and rosier than usual. I replaced a few wobbly hairpins to secure my bun, touched up my lipstick, and then went to the PD to fetch my car and drove out to Earl’s.

  Bags of garbage were piled in the back of his pickup truck, and all the windows were open. From inside the house I could hear a vacuum cleaner. It was very curious, I thought as I peered through the front screen, not sure if I’d see Alexandra Swayze, Eileen, or Perkin’s eldest, for that matter. I did not expect to see Earl in an apron. He’d changed into clean clothes and shaved—an amazing improvement from when I’d last seen him.

  “Everything okay?” I shouted.

  Earl turned off the vacuum cleaner and glared at me. “Whatta ya want?”

  “I just came by to see how you were doing,” I said. “I haven’t heard anything new about Eileen, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

  “It don’t matter to me. Do as you please.”

  “One other thing, Earl,” I said as he reached down to turn on the vacuum cleaner. “Did you happen to see a woman with white hair out in the pasture or creeping around your house? About sixty years old, maybe wearing some kind of blue outfit?”

  “Nope.” He flipped a switch and the vacuum cleaner began to roar.

  I decided I needed a glass of iced tea to erase the memory of Earl Buchanon in a floral-print apron with heart-shaped pockets and a ruffle along the bottom, so I headed for the nearest watering hole. Ruby Bee glanced up as I came across the empty barroom. “Back so soon? Guess nobody’s been murdered out there today. You must be getting bored.”

  I sat down on a stool. “How’s Estelle doing?”

  “She left an hour ago.” Ruby Bee filled a mug with milk and set it down in front of me, then stood there with an insufferably complacent smile on her face. A cat that had just annihilated a nest of field mice couldn’t have looked more pleased with itself.

  “Really?” I said lightly, willing to play her game. “What’s for supper tonight? More catfish?”

  She fussed around with a dishrag, taking great care to wipe the already spotless bar, and hummed while she rearranged the metal napkin holders and pretzel baskets. She finally cracked. “I guess you’re not the only one who knows the names of the celebrities out at the Stonebridge Foundation.”

  “I guess not,” I said. “The doctors and physical trainer know the names, and presumably whoever delivered each of them knows the names, too. Family members are good at keeping track of that kind of thing, too.”

  “Listen up, Miss Sassafras Mouth,” snapped Ruby Bee, “you ain’t so smart. I know for a fact that Dawn Dartmouth is staying out there, most likely dying of heart disease. You may not remember her from that series she was in, but I do. I must have watched it every single Thursday evening for more than ten years. She and her sister were four years old when the show started, and cute as buttons. As they got older, Twinkle was all the time gettin’ into mischief, but she always fessed up in the end. One time she found a litter of puppies in an alley and took them home. Her parents were besides themselves on account of not knowing what to do with nine puppies. In the end, the owner came to the door and was so grateful that she insisted on giving one to Twinkle. Of course Dawn and Sunny were supposed to be one person, but everybody in Arkansas knew better.”

  I was baffled. “Dawn and Sunny were one person?”

  “I wish you’d pay more attention,” Ruby Bee said. “Dawn and Sunny were identical twins. They were from some little podunk down by Arkadelphia. It was in the newspaper when the show first started.”

  “How did you find out that Dawn is at the foundation?”

  She arched her eyebrows. She wasn’t nearly as good at it as Estelle, but her effort was more than enough to rankle me. “I have my ways. What I want to know is if she’s dying of a heart disease like her sister. You must have seen her. Is she all sickly and pale and breathless?”

  “You’re going way too fast for me,” I admitted, taking a sip of milk. “I’ll give you a medical update after you tell me how you found out about Dawn.”

  Ruby Bee complied in detail.

  I’d finished the milk during her rec
itation. “The Mexicans must think you and Estelle are crazier than bedbugs. I can assure you that Dawn does not appear to have any life-threatening diseases. Do you understand the importance of not telling anyone else about this? The same goes for Estelle. Deal?”

  “What if I say no?” she asked.

  “Then I’ll solve this case, and as soon as I’ve handed it over to Harve, I’ll throw all my worldly possessions in my trunk and go live in a more congenial place. Antarctica comes to mind.”

  “You wouldn’t! Why, that’s worse than blackmail! Imagine saying such a thing to your own mother. I ought to take you out back and paddle your bottom.”

  “Try it,” I said coldly.

  She spluttered and blustered for a few minutes, dredging up all the terrible things I’d done as a teenager (she didn’t know the half of it), and then, when she realized I wasn’t impressed, simmered down. “I wasn’t aiming to tell anybody, and neither was Estelle, so you just go on about your business.”

  As I went out the door, I heard her yell something about an autograph, but I pretended not to hear it. I drove back to the Stonebridge Foundation, which I could do with my eyes closed by now, and jabbed the button of the box until the gate opened. I parked in back and came through the arch. Deputy Quivers had been replaced by yet another rookie, this one scrawnier than Kevin Buchanon and likely to be no brighter. I acknowledged him with a flip of my hand and knocked on Dr. Stonebridge’s office door. When I received no response, I opened the door.

  Vincent Stonebridge did not look any perkier than he had earlier, and the brandy bottle was empty. He gave me a bleary look. “Ah, Chief Hanks. Have you any good news to report?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Were any drugs missing from the cabinet in the room off the surgical suite?”

  “Not so much as an aspirin. Randall must have brought the pills with him.”

  “I need the key to the file cabinet with all the medical records.”