by Ann McMan
Bert chuckled. “Ol’ Azalea Freemantle did for that one.”
“Azalea?”
Sonny nodded. “That other rattler was high-tailin’ it toward the choir loft, and Azalea saw it comin’. Next thing I knew, she pulled a snub nose .38 out of her knitting bag and capped the damn thing.” He shook his head. “I never seen the like. She squeezed off one round and nailed it right between the eyes.”
“Remind me never to get into another argument with her about the damn Civil War,” Bert muttered.
“How on earth did the snakes get loose?” Maddie asked.
Sonny and Bert exchanged glances.
“It was an accident,” Sonny explained. “The service was just gettin’ goin’, and we was all singin’ the first hymn, ‘He Set Me Free.’ Most of the pews in the back was full, so some folks that come in late had to go up toward the altar to find seats.”
“Nothin’ unusual in that,” Bert chimed in. “Only Nelda Rae Black and them Lear twins sit up in the amen corner. Now, she’s the one who brought this preacher in, and them Lear twins . . . well. They just ain’t right.”
“Besides, it was hotter n hell’s kitchen in there,” Sonny said. “And most of us just wanted to be near the open doors at the back to catch some air.”
Maddie checked the swelling on Sonny’s hand and palpated his wrist and forearm for any signs of envenomation. Sonny just kept on talking.
“Anyway . . . it was Charlie Davis comin’ in with that young Freemantle girl. You know . . . Azalea’s granddaughter?” Sonny looked at Bert. “That one who’s always fallin’ over stuff. What’s her name?”
“Roma Jean.”
“Right. Roma Jean—Curtis and Edna’s daughter.”
Maddie was shocked. “Roma Jean Freemantle was there?”
Sonny nodded. He lowered his voice. “She’s been seein’ quite a bit of that Charlie Davis, if’n you know what I mean.”
Maddie chose not to comment on that. “What happened?”
“Well,” Bert took up the narrative. “She must a tripped over a power cord or somethin’, ’cause as soon as they got to the front of the church, she was goin’ ass over tea kettle—right into a stack of speakers. There was a flat, wood box—kinda like a big ole dresser drawer—sittin’ up on top of ’em all, and it went flyin’. Next thing you knew, Pastor LeFevre was hollerin’, and everybody up front started stampedin’ toward the back door.”
“They wasn’t just runnin’, neither,” Sonny added. “They was climbin’ over them pews like the Marines takin’ Omaha Beach.”
Bert nodded in agreement. “That preacher didn’t seem too worried, though. He just kept yellin’ that people should ‘heed the word’ and ‘follow signs.’ ”
“Hell,” Sonny quipped, “the only damn signs them people cared about followin’ were the one’s that said ‘exit.’ ”
Maddie sighed. There would be plenty of time to deal with all of this later. “Well, Sonny. It looks like you might be right. I think this is a dry bite, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’m going to have the EMT’s come and transport you to the hospital in Wytheville, so they can keep you under observation for the next eight hours or so.”
“I don’t need that.” Sonny held up his hand. “You can see that the swelling ain’t gettin’ worse, and by now, it would be as big as a cow tongue if it had venom in it.”
“I know, but you’ve been bitten before, and that makes you harder to treat if you do develop any serious effects. Besides, I’ve seen other people go home, thinking they’re free and clear, only to turn up in the emergency room twelve hours later with acute neurological problems or internal bleeding.”
Bert looked at Sonny. “I don’t know, Son. That don’t sound too good.”
Sonny sighed. “Can’t Bert just drive me over?”
Maddie shook her head. “Sorry. My clinic, my rules.”
He sighed. “You’re just like your daddy, you know that?” He chuckled. “Bossy.”
She smiled at him. “So I’ve been told.” She made a few notes on a small laptop computer. “Do you know when you last had a tetanus shot?”
He shook his head.
“Let’s go ahead and give you one, just as a precautionary measure.”
“Okay.”
“Does he have to get it in his derriere?” Bert sounded hopeful.
Maddie chuckled. “Not this time, Bert.” She walked to a small refrigerator to withdraw a Tdap syringe.
“Too bad.”
Sonny rolled his eyes.
Maddie pushed up Sonny’s sleeve and gave him the shot in his right arm.
“Now I’m going to call the EMT’s to come and pick you up. Do you want to call Harold and have him meet you over there?”
Sonny nodded. “If I don’t, and he hears about this some other way, there’ll be hell to pay. I swanny—that boy gets more worked up than a sheep in a den of coyotes.”
Maddie walked to a wall phone and dialed the number for the county rescue squad. She quickly brought the dispatcher up to speed on Sonny’s situation and asked her to send a crew to transport him to the hospital. As soon as she hung up the phone, she heard the front door to the clinic open and close, and the rapid fall of footsteps. She was shocked when David rushed into the room.
“You’ll never believe this, Cinderella,” he exclaimed. “Oh . . . hey, Sonny,” he added.
“David—” Maddie began.
“I was just at the hardware store, and Jocelyn Painter came in all in a swivet. She had just been to the post office, and Zeke Dawkins told her that he’d talked to Gertrude Baxter’s sister, who said that Gertrude witnessed all of this first hand.” He took a breath. “Apparently, a tour bus full of snake handlers showed up and crashed the revival service out at Bone Gap.”
Maddie tried again. “David . . . I’m with a patient. You can’t just burst in here like this.”
“They were on their way to Branson and had just stopped off for lunch at Shatley Springs. Jocelyn said they must’ve heard the music or something.”
“David, I’m not kidding. You need to wait outside.”
“Then, Azalea Freemantle saw them all coming in and started screaming something about a Yankee ambush. They say she stood up on her pew and started firing warning shots into the ceiling. Did you know that she carries a .410 Taurus Judge in her knitting bag? She told Cletus she got it to ward off carjackers—like there’s any of that going on out in Troutdale . . .”
“David—”
“They call those things ‘snake charmers,’ but I don’t think old Azalea much cares about capping reptiles. Not unless they’re the two-footed kind—if you get my drift.”
“David—”
“Jocelyn said all hell broke out when the tourists dropped their to-go bags of biscuits and their boxes of reptiles to run for cover. That’s when all the rattlers all got loose.”
“David—”
“She said it was like watching YouTube videos of that soccer riot in Egypt.”
“David—”
“That place is gonna need a shitload of new light fixtures.”
“David!”
He paused in his volley of words to stare at her. “What?”
Maddie took a deep breath and gestured toward Sonny and Bert. “I’m with a patient.”
“I know,” he said. “Oh. Hey, Bert,” he added.
“Can we talk about this later, please?” she asked.
He looked down at his feet. Astrid had wandered into the room behind him and was winding her way in and out of his legs.
“Does Daddy’s fluffy little princess need to make wee wee?” he cooed.
They were all startled when they heard the clinic door open and slam shut—again.
Maddie closed her eyes. “What now?”
They heard the clack of shoe heels on the tile floor. Then the doorway to her examination room filled up with a large blonde man wearing khaki-colored Haggar slacks and a button-down white dress shirt. He was carrying what looked like a
n empty desk drawer, and he did not look happy.
His hair, however, looked fabulous.
“I’m Pastor Terry LeFevre,” he announced in a booming voice. “And I’m here to bring the man who killed a servant of the Lord to justice.”
“That’s the preacher,” Bert hissed to Maddie.
Sonny started to sit up, but Maddie laid a hand on his chest. “Stay put, Sonny.” She looked at the evangelist. “I’ve got this.”
LeFevre pointed a finger at Sonny. “Is this the man who dared to smite one of God’s helpmates?”
Maddie walked around the table so she was standing between Sonny and the intruder. “This man is a patient, and you, Mr. LeFevre, are trespassing.”
“That’s Pastor to you, young lady. And as the Lord’s ambassador, I am free to exercise my First Amendment right to spread the good news of God’s Word anywhere.”
“If you have a medical complaint, Mr. LeFevre, I’ll be happy to tend you. Otherwise, I’m certain that a law-abiding citizen like you will respect my Fifth Amendment rights and leave this private property.”
He stared at her. She stared back. Neither blinked.
“God’s law trumps the laws of men,” he offered.
“Really?” Maddie folded her arms. “Do you think our county sheriff would agree with your assessment?”
LeFevre was unfazed. “Even in a Communist-leaning Commonwealth like this, taking up serpents is only a Class 4 Misdemeanor. I’ll pay the two hundred dollars.”
Sonny and Bert were looking back and forth between them like they were watching a ping-pong match.
Maddie pressed on. “Do you think the ‘Communist’ Commonwealth of Virginia will likewise dismiss the felonies of reckless endangerment and the unlawful transportation of dangerous wildlife?” She smiled at him. “Or did you remember to pack your permits?”
LeFevre seemed to waver. “There was no reckless endangerment until that young Sodomite fell into the speakers and knocked this box over.” He held out his empty carrier. “Now I’ve lost two of my best rattlers.”
Maddie had had enough. “Mr. LeFevre, I strongly suggest that you collect your umbrage and your righteous indignation and head for someplace more hospitable to your unique views.”
He opened his mouth to reply.
“If you think you need help finding your way out of town,” Maddie continued. “I’ll be happy to ask Sheriff Martin to provide you with an escort.”
LeFevre’s face was turning purple. Then his countenance changed, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.
Astrid had wandered over to where he stood and emptied her bladder on the turned-up toe of his tasseled loafer.
“Well.” David sighed. “ ‘Like a dog that returns to his vomit, likewise a fool repeats his folly.’ ”
LeFevre snapped his head up and stared at him. His gaze was anything but friendly.
“Proverbs 26:11,” David added. He pointed a finger at his own chest. “I might be queer as a plaid rabbit, but I’m one Sodomite who always went to Sunday school.”
The evangelist looked like he wanted to drop kick David—and Astrid—back into the Old Testament. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short at the sound of an approaching siren.
He looked at Maddie. “I hope the Holy Spirit will enter your heart and open your eyes to the truth.”
She smiled at him. “I hope so, myself.”
He turned around and left the room. His shoe squished across the floor as he hurried toward the exit.
“Well,” David said, “looks like the good pastor had to shake more than dust from his feet this time.”
Bert erupted into laughter as Maddie shook her head, and walked to the back door to brief the EMT’s about Sonny’s condition.
ACROSS TOWN AT Foster’s Dairy Bar, Roma Jean looked out the big, plate glass window just in time to see the county EMT wagon speed by. It was headed out of town—probably toward the hospital.
She put her spoon down. Not even a big dish of banana Bahama Mama could make her feel better. And Charlie had even asked Mrs. Foster to add wet nuts and extra sprinkles.
Banana Bahama Mama was her favorite.
“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked.
She shrugged.
“Roma Jean?”
She looked up at Charlie. Big mistake. Charlie was leaning forward, and her eyes were as blue as the iridescent chips in the Formica top of their small table. She dropped her gaze.
“I’m such a klutz.”
“We’ve been over this. You are not a klutz.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who knocked over a box full of poisonous snakes in a room full of people.”
“Roma Jean . . .”
“I can’t go anyplace.”
“Roma Jean . . .”
“Last week at the 7-Eleven in Mt. Airy, I backed into the Slurpee machine when they were cleaning it out, and a big vat of Mango Melody syrup tipped over.”
Charlie was trying not to laugh.
“It wasn’t funny,” Roma Jean said. “It spilled all over the battery kiosk, and the store manager yelled at me and told me to never come back.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlie apologized.
“They were having a big sale on Triple A’s, and all of the packages got soaked.”
Charlie nodded.
“They were mostly twenty-four packs, too.”
Charlie looked out the window.
“He was really mad. He said that nobody would buy batteries with big red stains all over the wrappers. He said it looked like a sidewalk sale at a crime scene.”
Charlie bit her lower lip.
“I really loved those Mango Slurpees, too.”
“It’s okay.” Charlie reached across the table and laid a hand on top of Roma Jean’s. “I’ll take you to the 7-Eleven in Blacksburg.”
Roma Jean stared at the tabletop. She never noticed before how small Charlie’s hands were. Small, and really warm.
“I don’t know if my mama will let me go that far away.”
“It’s not much further away than Radford,” Charlie said. “But we could always go to the one there.”
Roma Jean looked at her. “You’d come see me in Radford?”
Charlie nodded. “If you wanted me to, I would.”
Roma Jean dropped her gaze to the table again. She needed a safer topic, and fast. She waved a hand in frustration. “Why do they mess around with snakes at that church, anyway?”
“They don’t. That evangelist was a stranger, and nobody knew he took up serpents.”
“Well, you should go to the Methodist church instead. The only thing they ever take up there is the collection.”
Charlie laughed. “I don’t normally go to church there, Roma Jean. I only went this time because it meant a lot to my grandma.”
Roma Jean picked up her spoon and jabbed at some of the multicolored sprinkles that trailed across the top of her sundae. “Well, she probably regrets that wish now.”
“I doubt it. Grandma is pretty good at seeing past the unimportant stuff.”
“You call that unimportant?”
“A crazy man with a box of snakes?” Charlie shrugged. “Yeah.”
“But Sonny Nicks got bit.”
“I know, but Sonny said it was probably a dry bite, and he’d be likely to know.”
Roma Jean shook her head. “That whole thing just creeps me out.”
“Me, too. But you gotta admit that seeing old Azalea pull that gun outta her bag was worth the whole experience.”
Roma Jean rolled her eyes. “That’s nothing. You should see her at the VFW turkey shoot. She wins nearly every year. Aunt Evelyn is always complaining because there are so many frozen turkeys in the freezer she can’t even fit a bag of okra in there.”
“Couldn’t they cook them up in the café?”
“Are you kidding? Nadine said she might as well stuff and bake the plastic bags they come in.”
“Then why don’t they give ’em away?
”
“You mean like donate them someplace?” Roma Jean suggested.
Charlie nodded.
“You don’t know Gramma Azalea. She’s persuaded that the federal government is gonna blockade Jericho. And that they’ll need the food stores. She hoards kerosene, too, but Cletus won’t let her keep that in the apartment.”