by Joan Hess
She was expecting to see nothing more interesting than the woman with purple hair or maybe the two men from the balcony, so she was a little surprised when a black car pulled into the parking lot, circled the pool like a shark closing in on a swimmer, and stopped right behind the C’Mon Tours van. There were two men in the front seat, both as broad-chested as wrestlers. The driver was hard to make out, but the passenger had a bald head, a nose that was as bumpy as an unpaved road, and puffy lips.
Estelle held her breath, even though she knew darn well they couldn’t hear her. If they were getting ready to steal the van, it would be up to her to stop them somehow. Rushing outside to shoo them off didn’t seem wise. She’d feel real stupid if she called 911 and then later found out they had checked into the motel and were looking for their room.
She must have made a small noise of frustration because Ruby Bee said, “Now what’s wrong? Did Elvis drive up in a Cadillac? Why doncha ask him inside to sit a spell and tell us whereall he’s been for the last twenty years?”
“There’s a car out there.”
“In a parking lot? Goodness gracious, what will these big-city folks think of next?”
Estelle let go of the slat. “What’s gotten into you, Rubella Belinda Hanks? I ain’t seen you this persnickety since Arly moved up North and married that good-for-nothing Yankee peckerwood. You tried my patience back then, and you’re doing it now.”
Instead of apologizing like she was supposed to, Ruby Bee pulled a pillow over on her face.
Estelle looked back out at the parking lot. The black car hadn’t moved and both men were just sitting there like warts on a toad. After what seemed like an eternity—but according to her watch, was more like five minutes—Baggins came limping into view from the direction of the street. He froze for a second, then approached the driver’s side of the car and bent down.
Whatever was happening seemed to upset him. He backed away from the car, nearly losing his balance as his heel hit the curb. The driver was the one doing most of the talking; Baggins shook his head a couple of times, then shrugged and said something, although Estelle could see he was less than enthusiastic.
She was wishing she could read lips like her great-aunt Dorita, when she realized the bald man was staring at her, his eyes narrowed and his face stony. She snatched her hand back and dropped to her knees. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it was gonna burst, and for a moment she was sure she was going to pass out on the dirty carpet.
Keeping low, she made it to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat down on the commode until she could get her breath. What a silly goose she was, she scolded herself. For starters, all the man could have seen was the slit in the blinds. There was no way he could have seen her face or even been sure she was watching them. And so what if she had been? The parking lot was nigh onto empty, and the arrival of a car might attract attention from any of the rooms. Or why couldn’t she have just been waiting for a pizza to be delivered?
She took a few more deep breaths, splashed some water on her face and wrists, and went out of the bathroom. Ruby Bee had dozed off, if her snoring was to be believed. Just to be on the safe side, Estelle tiptoed around the bed and peeked ever so slyly through the blinds.
The car was gone, as was Baggins. She was wondering if he’d been kidnapped—and what she should do about it—when she heard female voices approaching the room. She took off the chain, and at the sound of the first tap, twisted the deadbolt, opened the door, and held her finger to her lips.
“Ruby Bee’s taking a nap,” she whispered, gesturing for them to come inside.
Cherri Lucinda held out a paper bag. “The best we could find was a Git ’N Go. One of the sandwiches is tuna salad, the other roast beef. We got you some chips and a couple of candy bars, too. Your change is in the bottom.”
“This is real thoughtful of you,” said Estelle.
Stormy leaned against the door, her duffel bag in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. “Can I ask a favor? Cherri Lucinda here said that you offered to do her hair. I’ve been thinking for a long time that I need a new look. As long as we’re stuck here for the evening, would you consider doing something with mine?”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Cherri Lucinda said as she resumed examining herself in the mirror. “Don’t come crying to me when you see what you’ve done.”
“Well?” Stormy said to Estelle. “It beats sitting around listening to gunfire.”
Estelle felt like she’d been cornered by a pit bull. This particular pit bull was six inches shorter and most likely thirty years younger, but her eyes had a disturbing gleam and it was hard to guess how she’d react if she didn’t get her way. Estelle nodded and said, “I suppose I can give it a try, even though I’m used to my own equipment. What do you want?”
“To be a brunette, for starters,” Stormy said as she dumped the contents of the plastic bag on the seat of the chair. “I’ll take care of that while you eat, and you can cut my hair afterward.”
“You’ll be sorry,” said Cherri Lucinda, her face inches from the mirror as she explored a blemish on her chin.
Stormy picked up a box with the depiction of a radiant brunette. “So will you if you don’t shut up. You should know that when I make up my mind to do something, I do it no matter what. Remember when I told you that I was going to knock the crap out of that bouncer if he touched my tit one more time? I’ll bet he does.”
She went into the bathroom, and seconds later water began to run in the sink. Estelle took out the sandwiches and put them on the bedside table as Ruby Bee woke up and made a selection. “How long have you and Stormy been friends?” she asked Cherri Lucinda.
“Couple of months. Do you honestly think my face is plump?”
“Only in a fetching sort of way. You remind me of one of those actresses who always ends up with the handsome hero,” Estelle said tactfully. “Maybe that’s why you look kind of familiar. Did you work at Kmart before you became an entertainer?”
“I’ve worked a lot of places.” Cherri Lucinda dangled some curls across her forehead. “So what do you think? Does it make me look like a chipmunk?”
Estelle was casting around for a way to soften her answer when there was a knock on the door. She took a quick peek through the blinds, then opened the door and let Rex Malanac inside. “I suppose you want your hair cut, too,” she said irritably. “If I had this much business back home, I’d have hired a limo to take me to Memphis.”
In spite of the fact it was dark outside, he was still wearing sunglasses and the canvas hat. “I did not realize I was interrupting what used to be called a hen party when I was in college. I’m in need of some change to use the pay telephone at the corner. I went to the office, but it’s locked and the lights are off.”
“Can’t a college professor figure out how to use the phone in a motel room?” said Cherri Lucinda, making it clear she hadn’t forgotten the exchange in the van.
“One cannot make long-distance calls on the room phones,” he said. “No doubt the owners of this establishment have been stiffed on many occasions. Is she”—he pointed at the supine form on the bed—“ill or in some sort of distress?”
Ruby Bee’s voice was muffled but her tone was unmistakable. “The only thing causing me distress is the procession through this room. You’d think this was one of the rooms in Graceland, what with everybody traipsing in and out like a herd of tourists. I’m surprised I haven’t heard cameras clicking.”
Estelle took her wallet out of her purse and poured coins onto the corner of the bed. “How much change do you need? I’ve got what looks to be three dollars’ worth.”
“That will have to suffice,” he said.
Stormy came out of the bathroom, her hair obscured by a terrycloth turban. “What’s going on? Are we gonna play poker or something?”
Cherri Lucinda rolled her eyes. “Now there’s a swell idea. I’m sure the professor here is a big fan of strip poker. He’s probably hoping you’ll los
e so he can see that butterfly of yours. Ain’t that right, Rex?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.
Stormy put her hands on her hips. “I’ll drop my pants if you’ll drop yours.”
Ruby Bee groaned loudly. “What does a body have to do to get some peace and quiet around here?”
“Come on, Rex,” continued Stormy. “Let’s have a little game of show-and-tell.”
Cherri Lucinda began to play with the top button of her jeans. “Hey, I’ve got a mole on my thigh. Can I play, too?”
Estelle stood up. “Cut this out, and I mean it. You all are acting worse than a third-grade Sunday school class. Nobody is taking off anything in this room. Now you either behave or march yourselves right out the door. Go squabble in the parking lot—and try not to get yourselves shot.”
Stormy’s hands fell to her sides. “It was just a joke Are you still willing to cut my hair?”
Cherri Lucinda looked at Rex. “Do you think my face is plump?”
He smiled. “No one would accuse you of being emaciated, but you are hardly Rubenesque.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“This is craziness!” said a muffled voice.
Estelle had to agree with that.
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About the Author
Joan Hess (b. 1949) is the award-winning author of several long-running mystery series. Born in Arkansas, she was teaching preschool when she began writing fiction. Known for her lighthearted, witty novels, she is the creator of the Claire Malloy Mysteries and the Arly Hanks Mysteries, both set in Arkansas.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1997 by Joan Hess
Cover design by Andy Ross
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3726-6
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