From Pharaoh's Hand (11 page)

             
Then, she hung her head and cried as the green river rolled on past. She prayed as she had never prayed before; desperately she groaned and cried out to God to help her in our hour of need. It was in this sacred moment that Elizabeth found grace in the eyes of her Creator. She could not see the future that lay ahead, but He could. His heart heard the plea of this little woman-child. He would not turn His back on such a broken and repentant heart. Her head was still bowed, her eyes still firmly closed, when finally the muddy stain lifted from the fabric and faded from view. God had carried her sin as far from her as the east is from the west--to be remembered no more.             

Chapter 10

Pharaoh’s Curse

“Death comes on wings to he who enters the tomb of a Pharaoh...”

April 2006

              It was nearly noon when Catfish pulled out of the E.W. James parking lot. He had lingered longer in the store than he had meant to, but there was still time to get a bite of dinner at the Dinner Bell before heading back.  He made his way into the restaurant and spotted Poke at his usual table. He also noted a few strangers seated at a table nearby. They had guns strapped around their waist. He nodded at them politely as he eased into his seat next to the window.

             
Although recently remodeled, the Dinner Bell still held most of its rural charm.  The ceiling was plastered with old license plates from many different states.  New bright red curtains had been hung, and the owner had finally gotten an all-you-can-eat buffet, which was only available on the weekends for the low price of $6.95.  A television had been added in the far corner of the room and was tuned to noonday news. Even the bathrooms had been remodeled to reflect a more modern flair, although Catfish wondered as he soaped his hands why the men’s room would need a double sink.  Only women went to the powder room in droves.  Men did their business and got out.

     “
What’s with the firepower?” he asked Poke. The waitress made her way over with a glass of sweet tea for Catfish.

          “
What’ll it be today, Cat, the usual?”

     “
You know it, gal. And then I’ll need a takeout order later.”

             
“Fiddler coming right up with hushpuppies and vinegar slaw.”

     “
Oh, them boys is from the TBI. They been down at Perryville dragging the river most of the morning. Guess they is headin’ back to Nashville takin’ the scenic route.”

             
“Draggin’ the river? Fisherman drown or somethin’?

     “
Naw, they found a backpack that belonged to that girl that disappeared back the first of the year...”

             
“They did? They thinkin’ she jumped?”

     “
Don’t know. Them boys ain’t said much. What you doin’ in town today?”

             
“Needed some beer and toilet paper.”

             
Catfish raised the glass of iced tea to his lips. Poke saw the glimmer of gold on his finger about the same time Catfish realized that he had it on.

             
     “Nice chunk o’ gold on yer finger there. You strike it rich at the Horseshoe?”

             
“Yeah, I had a run a luck. Good thang too. With the new baby on the way.”

             
              Poke’s eyes widened. “New baby. What the...?”

             
“Yep, bout time me and the missus carried on the family name, dontcha think?”

             
              “Well, youn’s ain’t gettin’ no younger. But I thought she was too sickly.”

             
“I reckon the good Lord has smiled on us. She’s a takin’ it easy. I don’t let her get out none. Don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to her or the baby. Finally gonna get me that big strappin’ boy.”

             
     “You old dog you. Don’t you reckon you oughta bring her into town and let the doc check her out.”

             
“Mama Lorraine will be a seein’ to her. We is fine. I reckon babies come into the world every day without a doctor’s help.”

             
    “I guess you’re right, Cat. Man, yore days of freedom is over.”

             
“I just about got enough cash to start buildin’ that stick built home we been wantin’. Then I’m a gonna get outta the business, if ya know what I mean.”

             
     “You can’t do that. What’s us good old boys gonna do for fun then?”

             
“Reckon you’ll have to take over the business if it means that much to ya. I got a family to raise.”

             
              Poke let out a roaring laugh that made the investigators look up from their plates.

             
“What’s so funny ‘bout that, you old coot?”

             
     “Nothin’ Cat. Nothin’”

             
The waitress returned with the steaming plate of fish, fries, and hushpuppies, and the conversation stalled as Catfish plowed into his lunch. Poke studied the ring on Cat’s finger with great interest. There was the imprint of a bird-- an eagle, or falcon with its wings spread looking over an ancient figure on a throne. That was no ordinary ring. He wondered just how Catfish had come by it. He doubted Catfish would have picked out something with those eccentric details for himself. That Catfish was something else all right. He wondered if they would name the baby Phineas, Jr.

             
“Hey Callie, give me an order o’ catfish and fries to go would ya.”

             
              “You got it, Cat.”

             
“Got to keep her strength up. She’s a eatin’ for two now.” He winked at Poke.

             
The investigators had finished their meal, left a generous tip, and were heading out the door. Catfish looked toward the door as it shut behind them.  So the investigation was back open. He would have to be on the lookout for anyone snooping into his business. Poke was about the only one who ever visited, and he had been careful to meet him down riverside, claiming Inetha had to be kept from the secret of the marijuana trading. Yep, it was getting a bit too close to home for comfort. And now his pride had caused him to boast of the baby. He probably should have kept that to himself as well, but he would explain that away in due time. He could always say Inetha left him with the baby, and he found him a pretty nursemaid and housekeeper to tend him. He would deal with that later. He paid for the fish, grabbed a toothpick, and waved off Poke.

             
“We playin’ poker later this week?”

             
              “We always do. We been missin’ ya. Figured you done got too high and mighty with the high rollers to hang with us.”

             
“Nah, just busy gettin ready for plantin’. Need me a tractor instead o’ that old tiller.”

             
              “I hear ya. We’ll be lookin’ for ya then.”
              Catfish had just left the Dinner Bell and headed back toward home. He was thinking about the investigators and the search of the river. He would do whatever it took to keep Liza hid.  He could not go to prison for kidnapping, or worse yet, murder. He was already in over his head, not to mention the rings he’d stolen from Frankie.  He should never have taken them. Frankie should never have called him white trash either.  Maybe he should try to fence the stolen artifacts himself. But he figured as soon as he did, Ace, whoever he was, would come out of the woodwork wanting his property. Ace had no way of finding him, he knew.  But that would be just his luck.  He glanced down at the golden ring on his finger. He wondered what it was worth. He wondered how one went about fencing ancient artifacts.

             
His eyes were diverted from the road. The sun was glinting off the gold into his eyes. Suddenly something very large and heavy hit the windshield with such force that it cracked all the way across. Catfish was startled and jerked the wheel. The truck fishtailed, hit some loose gravel, and began spinning out of control. Catfish caught the light of the water glancing off the river below. The truck was perilously close to the edge of the road and about to go over the ravine and crash into the green waters of the Buffalo. His heart was pounding in his throat. He yanked the wheel in the opposite direction, the truck hitting an outcrop of limestone on the left side of the road. The truck rattled as it was scraped by the rock. It swerved and headed back toward the river. He corrected the wheel and fishtailed again.  Finally, Catfish managed to get control of the wheel and bring the truck to a stop on a wide flat area just past the river.

             
His hands were sweaty and shaking as he rolled to a stop. His mouth was dry as he cursed the luck that nearly took his life. What was that huge bird that had hit his windshield? He looked in his rearview mirror, but could see nothing lying in the road. He ran his hand through his hair. Whatever it was had come pretty near killing him. The bags of groceries had hit the floorboard. Cans of potted meat and chili were rolling around. He was amazed to see that the Styrofoam container that held Liza’s lunch was still sitting on the seat beside him. He reached for his to-go cup of iced tea and took long drags on the straw. At least the truck would still run. Good Old Faithful. Maybe he would forget about the Navigator after all. Was this was nature’s way of quelling the greed that had begun taking hold of him? He would have to find a way to get rid of the rings. The heat was getting too intense. He had enough to worry about with a baby on the way. There was a crop to get planted. This would be his last and biggest crop.  Of course he would have to find a new buyer.  But he was certain that was only a small formality.  There were plenty of buyers in the big city.  Once he took care of that little matter life would be good again. Just him and Liza and P.J., living the royal life in the royal kingdom. There would be nothing holding him back from the good life then.

             
Catfish wiped the sweat from his brow and managed to calm his racing heart.  He flipped the radio on.  That would calm his nerves a bit. He put the truck in gear and carefully pulled back out onto the road. A radio station out of Nashville broadcast the story. A body had been found by the divers at Decaturville, along with a pair of sunglasses and one of her flip-flops. The name of the victim had not been released pending the results of DNA testing, but it could possibly be a 17-year-old runaway that disappeared last January from her home in Jackson, Tennessee. The girl was believed to be pregnant. Foul play was suspected. 
A body? They found a body?

             
Catfish turned off the radio. He peered out the dirty, cracked windshield and across the yard.  He was not sure who the divers had discovered in the river, but he was certain it was not Liza Beth. She was reaching into a nearby basket for a pair of his overalls. Her long, blonde hair had been crudely cut into a bob, and she had a purple bruise under her left eye. She should not have sassed him. A woman should know her place in the home.             

Chapter 11

Words of Hope

“Come let us deal wisely with them...”

              Without sufficient physical evidence linking Chris to Beth’s disappearance, the police had nothing to hold him on, so after extensive questioning with him and his legal counsel and his parents, the police let Chris walk free with the condition that he not leave town. Beth’s parents were furious with the latest developments, certain that Chris had knowledge of their daughter’s whereabouts. Beth’s father was waiting outside the jail as Chris and his parents exited the station.

             
“What did you do to her? Where is she...what did you do with my daughter....” His face was purple, his hand doubled into a fist as he charged toward them.

             
Chris’s father rushed to guard his son from any blows that Mr. Merriweather might inflict.
              “Hold it John! I know you’re upset.”

             
     “Upset! Upset...how would you feel if it were your daughter, Bob? Where is Beth, Chris...where is she?”