Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 02 (15 page)

"I prefer to let that sort self-destruct," I said, turning around to make sure Hammet hadn't rolled off the seat. He hadn't. "I feel sorry for Hammet and his siblings. I've given up trying to find his mother. I searched part of the ridge today and realized how absurd it was to think I might find her. I'm going to call the sheriff and request assistance, which is what I should have done in the first place. If his posse has no luck, he can contact the state police for a helicopter. I should have called Social Services, too, and had them take responsibility for the children. Mrs. Jim Bob's on the anal-retentive side, but her gesture was generous. However, she and I are both amateurs and way out of our league. The professionals have institutions and foster homes for this situation."

"I think you did the right thing. This Buchanon woman may show up at any moment to demand her children. If they had been placed in foster care by an agency, she might never unwind the red tape in order to get them back."

"I know." I closed my eyes as we drove past the PD so I wouldn't have to think of all the things I was busily doing wrong.

David Allen parked beside my stairs. He took Hammet's inert form from the backseat and carried him to my door. Once we got him settled on the sofa with a blanket, I walked downstairs with David Allen.

He took his keys out of his pocket and gave me the look that meant he was deciding whether to risk a good-night kiss. I gave him the look that said no, don't even try, then thanked him for the ice cream and the movies. The look faded, and he told me I was more than welcome. Neither one of us could come up with anything more, so I said good night and went up to my apartment to lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Ruby Bee padded to the refrigerator and took out a plastic baby bottle. She ran some water into a pan, set the bottle in it, and turned on the burner of the stove. Baby continued to howl as Ruby Bee waited a few minutes, then picked up the bottle to sprinkle some droplets on her wrist.

Once she was satisfied, Ruby Bee padded on into the living room and picked up the red-faced, screaming baby and retreated to the sofa. She managed to cut off the cries by inserting the nipple in the appropriate orifice, then sank back to gaze through befogged eyes at the level in the uptilted bottle. In that it was the third time that night that she'd fed the little darling, she was feeling less than charmed by the button nose, perfect flower-petal ears, and tiny clenched fists.

Maybe, she thought as she put Baby back in the bassinet and padded to bed, maybe Estelle should have an opportunity to have a sweet overnight guest tomorrow night. After all, she and Estelle were good friends, and it wasn't fair not to share all those special moments. It would mean so much to Estelle, especially since that foreigner with the mustache hadn't shown up as of yet. Why, it would be a big help in taking her mind off her disappointment.

A smile on her face, Ruby Bee drifted to sleep.

Celeste threw back the satin cover and switched on the bedside light. Despite the lateness of the hour, she pulled on a robe over her negligee and went downstairs to the solarium. She sat down at the table and shuffled the tarot cards, then dealt them out and bent forward to study the results.

The King of Wands, the King of Swords, the Nine of Swords, and the Moon. Could they not for even one time stay away? It was as if they now were citizens of Maggody, these symbols of malice and violence, of deceit and trickery and fear. And Death was there, as always.

The psychic pushed the cards away and sat back, her eyes closed. She forced herself to recall the face she had seen earlier. It was definitely a woman, she decided with a shiver, but it was impossible to see any features beyond those distorted with blood. Although there was an elusive impression of hair color, of age, of eye color, of cheek and brow and jaw ... all was dominated by blood. By flies. By the pervasiveness of decay.

She gathered up the cards and once more dealt them, hoping for some sign to identify the face.

The faces on the cards gazed back at her through glassy, two-dimensional eyes. They seemed to be smiling.

Poppy took the milk carton from the refrigerator, then tiptoed across the kitchen to get a glass from the cabinet. She flinched as the cabinet let out a tiny squeak. It wasn't that she didn't want company, she told herself as she eased the cabinet closed. She was committed to the concept of sharing, of oneness and wholeness and cosmic harmony and the manifestation of collective energy and all that; if she weren't, why, she'd still be waiting tables at the Pizza Hut and living in that drab apartment over the bowling alley. It was just that it was tiresome at times, all that determined family sharing and everything.

She was standing by the window when the door opened behind her. Nate gave her a guarded look as he went to the kitchen table and set down a paper sack. "What's wrong with you?" he said, scowling.

"Nothing. The midwife told me to drink a lot of goat's milk."

"Good for her." He sat down and took out a hamburger. "Get me a beer, will you?"

Poppy tried not to pout as she took a beer from the refrigerator and placed it in front of him. "That's poison, you know. The meat is from animals raised on chemicals, and the bread's all preservatives and artificial flavors."

"Name one," he commanded through a mouthful of chemicals, preservatives, and artificial flavors.

"Oh, things that cause cancer. Where've you been all night?"

"Out. I had to see a middleman about a deal. Why are you skulking around the kitchen, for that matter? I thought pregnant women were supposed to sleep twelve hours a night so they weren't too tired for their morning nap."

Poppy almost stamped her foot, but thought better of it. "Rainbow says I need to -- "

"I don't care what she says. God, I'm about to drown in her cheerful, warm, cozy, sugary smiles and suffocating cosmic awareness. As soon as I work out this deal, you can kiss my ass good bye, 'cause I'll be driving down that long country road."

Poppy couldn't think of anything to say. On the other side of the kitchen door, with her ear pressed against the wood, Rainbow couldn't think of much herself. But her smile was far from toasty warm and her eyes were cold. Silently she moved away from the door and returned to bed. She snuggled next to Zachery and tried to meditate to the rhythm of his gentle snores.

8

I was sleeping quite peacefully when a hand touched on my arm. In that I had had no companion in my bed for nearly two years, I almost choked on a mouthful of pillowcase as I opened my eyes.

"There be somebody at the door," Hammet said. He was fully dressed and regarding me with a sober expression.

"Who is it?"

"I din't open it yet. You want I should get your gun and blow 'em to smithereens?" He took a step toward my dresser, his hand outstretched and his little yellow eyes bright with eagerness to make his day.

"No!" I said as I scrambled out of bed. "Just give me a second to wake up, then I'll see who's at the door. What time is it?"

Hammet looked at the clock, then at the floor. "I dunno, but I reckon the sun'll come up afore too long. I ain't heard a hoot owl in a long whiles."

I made a mental note to teach him how to tell time, although I doubted his mother would give him a Rolex for Christmas. I was reaching for my bathrobe when I heard an insistent knock on the front door of the apartment. After a glance at the clock to confirm the absurdity of the hour, I pulled on the robe and stalked across the living room.

Hammet trailed after me, reiterating his offer to blow the intruder to smithereens iffen I wanted him to. After assuring him that such actions would be premature (and defining "premature" when I saw his lip creep forward), I opened the door to stare at a man with dark hair, brown eyes, and an apologetic smile. He took in my robe and bare feet while I took in his sports coat, starched shirt, discreet silk tie, and creased slacks. It probably took me longer to do the taking in, but I wasn't standing at his door before the sun rose.

"I'm Mason Dickerson," he said. "I know this is crazy, but I wonder if I might ask you something?"

"You jest did," Hammet said. "Asked her somethin', I mean."

"Well, yes, you're right. But it really is important, Miss Hanks. I realize it's early and I'm a total stranger, and by all rights you ought to slam the door in my face or shoot me ... "

I joined him on the landing before Hammet could offer to comply with the latter part of the suggestion. "Mason Dickerson," I said slowly. "You're Madam Celeste's brother, right? You're her business manager or something like that?"

"Something like that. If it's not too much trouble, she would like you to come over to our house. I'll be happy to drive you over."

"At six o'clock in the morning?" I shook my head, wondering if Hammet might be on the right track. "I have a personal policy of declining social engagements before sunrise. Unless this is an emergency involving official police business, tell Madam Celeste to call me in a couple of hours."

"Yeah," Hammet contributed from the doorway. "It's too fuckin' premature to be visitin' folks."

Mason shrugged helplessly. "You know that and I know that, but my sister refused to listen to any argument. Look, I'm sorry to disturb you. Please just go back to bed and forget about this, Miss Hanks."

"What's all this about?"

"I don't know. One of Celeste's crazy visions." He moved down a step. "Something about a dead woman. Celeste thinks she has information that'll be useful to you, but the whole thing's nonsense and I'm sorry I bothered you." He retreated another few steps.

"Wait a minute." I told Hammet to go to the kitchen and fix himself a bowl of cereal. Once he was gone, I studied Mason while I tried to jolt my brain into a functional state. "What are we talking about -- a dead body or a vision of a dead body? And while we're on the subject, whose?"

"I really don't know any more than I've told you. Celeste wanted you to come by the house because she has something to tell you about some woman who may be dead. But Celeste has been kind of screwy since she was a child, and you don't have to listen to her if you don't want to. Please accept my apologies, and forget I was ever here." His face was red and his voice cracking with embarrassment. He kept looking at the top of his car as if he wished nothing more than to be in it and speeding down the highway.

I felt sorry for him, and I was also feeling a little bit curious about this peculiar invitation, especially since he seemed so eager to cancel it. "Why don't you come inside for a cup of coffee while I try to decide what to do? Now that I'm awake, I suppose it won't hurt anything to hear what your sister wants to tell me, although I am fairly skeptical about this sort of thing."

"So am I," he murmured. "But thank you for agreeing to come. Celeste can be difficult when she doesn't get her way."

He had come back up to the landing when a motorcycle roared around the corner. A figure in a helmet braked in a shower of gravel, then imperiously gestured for us to come downstairs. Telling myself this was a truly bizarre dream, I did as requested. As I reached the bottom step, I realized the figure was covered with mud and dripping like a faulty faucet. Ruby Bee's idle gossip came back to me. "Merle?" I said tentatively.

He pulled off his helmet. "Morning, Arly. How are ya?"

"Fine, thank you. What brings you here at this hour?" I fully expected him to pull a dormouse and a March hare out of his pocket and suggest a tea party. I wouldn't have raised so much as an eyebrow.

"I came by last night, but you was out," Merle said, forgiving me with a toothless smile. "Good thing I caught you this morning, 'cause I'm going to be right busy later today over at the creek. I built a ramp outta some scrap lumber, but I jest ain't having any luck so far. I believe I'm gonna have to recalculate my angles."

"Why did you come by last night and again this morning?" I asked, optimistically ignoring the reference to his daredevil antics.

"To tell you what I found yesterday evening just afore dark."

"And what did you find?"

"A dead body, Arly. I found me a dead body. I found some other bodies, too, but they was wanting privacy so's they could commence to court, so I don't reckon I ought to carry tales about 'em." Merle loosed an earshattering cackle. "No, sir, them two kids was sweaty when I happened across them, and real red-faced when they realized they'd been caught."

I looked back at Mason, who was white and clutching the railing for dear life. Taking a deep breath, I said, "The dead body, Merle -- tell me about the body."

"Don't you want to hear about the two that was having themselves a fine old time in the front seat? They was doing it in a funny way, but these kids today have some newfangled notions on how to go about procreatin'. Mrs. Hardcock, bless her soul, would of been right scandalized. She always wore a flannel nightgown and covered the face of the alarm clock with a towel when I came a-sniffin' at her."

"Merle, I want to know about the body. Are you going to tell me, or do I have to drag it out of you word by word?"

I had to drag it out of him word by word. Once I learned that he had happened across a dead, bloodied body on the far side of Cotter's Ridge, I ordered him to wait for me at the PD. I told Mason, who was quivering like a molded salad, that I would get back to him later and sent him home. Then, bewildered and thoroughly apprehensive, I went upstairs and told Hammet the news. He shrugged and asked if were Her. I said I didn't know for sure, but that it was likely. He then wanted to know iffen she'd done been et by a bear, and if so, was the bear dead, too? And if that were the case, was they gonna skin the bear and who would get to keep the hide? All in all, he handled it with aplomb.