Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 09 (11 page)

“I thought Coach Grapper was gonna be here,” said one of the Dahlton twins.

Darla Jean shrugged. “Yeah, she said that, but she wasn’t at church this morning. I can’t recollect the last time she missed a service.”

“If she’s sick,” said Heather, “she might not find out if we kind of slip away as soon as everybody is sitting down. I’d like to watch the first part of a miniseries about a beautiful woman that’s raised in an orphanage and doesn’t learn she’s really a wealthy heiress until—”

“Here you all are,” said Seraphina as she came out of the tent. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt that read: “Hope Is Here!”

“It’s just so wonderful of you girls to help us out all week. Not only will you be earning money for your team, but you’ll also have a chance to hear Malachi speak of the true joy of dedicating your young lives to Jesus.”

“Swell,” muttered Heather.

Seraphina winked at her. “Oh, I understand about boyfriends and moonlight. I had my share of both when I was your age. You should be able to leave by ten o’clock every night, so you can still snuggle up on the porch swing with your guys.” She let that sink in, then added, “I need all of you to come to the van parked out back. We’ll give you your badges and some hints on how to make folks feel welcome as they arrive. That doesn’t sound too terrible, does it?” Without waiting for their answers, she headed for the corner of the tent, crooking her finger to indicate they were to follow her.

Like lambs, they did.

—==(O)==—

“Please,” moaned Kevin as he knelt in front of his wife, who was spread across the sofa like a load of topsoil, “Please don’t fret over what folks are saying about what happened yesterday. Everybody knows Jim Bob’s meaner than his hide will hold. He had no business bullying you like he did, and iff’n you want, I’ll just go back down to the store and punch him in the nose.”

“He’ll have you arrested, too.”

“You wasn’t arrested, my goddess. Arly brought you home and made you promise to steer clear of the store until you have the baby. If she’d meant to arrest you, she’d have said something about it.” He took her hand and nuzzled it until she jerked it away. “You cain’t lie here for five more months. Why doncha put on that pretty pink dress Ma made for you and we’ll go to the revival? Do you recollect how we used to watch Malachi Hope and his wife on television? We don’t want to miss the chance to see ‘em in real life.”

Dahlia turned her face to the back of the sofa. “I ain’t never setting foot out of this house as long as I live.”

He pleaded some more, but her only responses were melancholy rumbles and an occasional despondent belch. He finally gave up and went into the kitchen to see what he could find to fix for supper. It wasn’t hard to see why she was suffering; the refrigerator was nigh onto empty except for carrots, celery, and the dried remains of a piece of fish neither of them had been able eat. The cupboards were empty, too. He himself had cleaned them out and taken all the cookies and chips to his parents’ house for safekeeping.

“I have an idea,” he said from the doorway, hoping she’d at least look at him. “After the revival, we can stop at the Dairee DeeLishus and share an icecream soda. I know your doctor won’t like it, but a few calories is better than all this heartache.”

“What if folks at the revival start whispering about how I’m a shoplifter?”

“Why, I’ll slap ‘em across the face,” he said gallantly.

Dahlia opened one eye to regard him. The pregnancy made her sick to her stomach in the mornings, but it was making him downright manly She wondered if she ought to ask the nurse about it.

—==(O)==—

“Did you see the signs out in front of the Assembly Hall?” asked Estelle from the living room of the two-room unit at the Flamingo Motel. She’d arrived earlier than expected and was having to wait while Ruby Bee finished getting gussied up.

“Can’t say I did,” Ruby Bee called from the bathroom. “What do they say?”

“There’s gonna be bingo games every Sunday and Wednesday evening, with prizes and free popcorn.”

“Isn’t bingo illegal?”

“I ain’t a lawyer. Are you ready to go?”

Ruby Bee went into the bedroom and clipped on the earrings Arly had given her for her fiftieth—or fifty-fourth—birthday, the number having been disputed. “Wasn’t there something on the news about the Veterans’ Auxiliary down in Little Rock being ordered to stop running their bingo games?”

“It must have been before my time. What are you doing in there—giving yourself a manicure? If we don’t get there early, we’re liable to have to park in the back of the pasture. I’m wearing my new shoes, and I’m not about to go stepping in cow patties.”

Ruby Bee tucked a scarf into her purse, hitched up her girdle, and came into the living room. “I told Arly about the passes to sit in the front row, but she turned up her nose and said she wasn’t going. I don’t know what’s gotten into that girl. All she ever does in the evenings is mope around that pitiful apartment of hers, watching television and reading magazines. What kind of life is that, I ask you? That’s not to say it isn’t a sight better than living in Washington, D.C., of course, but it’s got to be lonely.”

Estelle was shaking her head as she stood up. “She sure isn’t gonna find a husband that way. Maybe you ought to convince her to talk to Malachi Hope.”

“Are you out of your mind? I’d sooner try to convince her to go on a date with Diesel Buchanon, for Pity’s sake!”

“Is he still biting heads off squirrels and rabbits up on Cotter’s Ridge?”

“When he’s not exposing his privates at the school yard.”

Ruby Bee made sure the front door was locked and then climbed into the front seat of Estelle’s car. Shortly thereafter, they were waving at a sheriff’s deputy as they turned down County 102.

—==(O)==—

“I for one disremember voting to have bingo games at the Assembly Hall,” Lottie said as she turned down County 102. “If Mrs. Jim Bob wants to give away a Mr. Coffee, she’s welcome to do it.”

“Just because she’s the president don’t give her the right to act like a dictator,” said Elsie McMay.

“Bingo is just another name for gambling,” added Eula Lemoy from the backseat. “And gambling is a sin.”

Lottie hit the brakes as they arrived at the rear of a long line of cars and trucks that stretched clear to the low-water bridge. “You’d have thought Brother Verber would have objected to gambling in the sanctuary, but he didn’t say a word.” The conversation grew louder as the participants expressed their outrage. The fact that Lottie’s air conditioner wasn’t strong enough to ruffle a gnat’s hair was a contributing factor.

—==(O)==—

“I still say we should have gone to the Assembly Hall,” said Eilene Buchanon as her husband turned down County 102. “We’ve been attending Sunday evening services for more than thirty years. We were married there, and Kevin and Dahlia were married there, too. You may not care all that much for Brother Verber’s long-winded sermons, but we have to remain loyal—”

“The hell we do,” said Earl. “Besides, there wasn’t a single car in the parking lot. If everybody else is going to the revival, then so are we. Malachi Hope asked to give a presentation at Kiwanis next week. As the program chairman, it’s my responsibility to check him out. Besides, I’m partial to cotton candy.”

“Oh, Earl …” she began, then conceded defeat and sank back into the seat. Sometimes there wasn’t any point in trying to reason with a Buchanon—and Earl was the product of third cousins once removed.

—==(O)==—

Norma Kay watched the traffic crawl up County 102 as she waited on the porch for Bur to join her. He’d refused at first, but she’d kept at him until he agreed to attend this one time. After that, he’d growled, she could do what she damn well pleased but he was staying home.

Not that she wanted his company, of course. It just didn’t seem fitting for her to show up by herself and have to find someone to sit with who wouldn’t ask where Bur was and was he sickly. Married women didn’t do that, except for morning coffees and meetings of the County Extension Club and Missionary Society.

She was about to go back inside and holler at him when she saw Cory Jenks walking up the road. He looked real nice in a blue dress shirt and trousers; she didn’t want to think how slovenly Bur would look in whatever he found on the floor of the closet or in the clothes hamper.

“Evening, Norma Kay,” Cory said as he came acros the yard. “You and Bur going to the revival?”

“If he gets his butt out here before it’s over.”

He stopped at the edge of the porch. “Where’d that bruise on your cheek come from?”

“I got all tangled up when I was pulling on my dress and lost my balance,” she said evenly. “Before I knew what was happening, I ran into the closet door.”

“Like last time?”

“Yeah, like last time.” She turned her face so the bruise was less prominent. “I’m surprised you’re coming to the revival, Cory. I’d have thought you’d be home working on game plans or devising new drills.”

“I’m curious about this Hope fellow, and I hear his wife’s a real looker. Besides, the boys are in charge of parking cars and handing out hymnals. I thought I’d better make sure they all showed up sober.” Bur came out onto the porch, clearly uncomfortable in a white shirt and tie. “Why, look who’s here!” he said with facetious enthusiasm. “You and Norma Kay having yourselves a cozy little conversation?”

Cory’s ears turned pink, but he held his ground. “Evening, Coach Grapper. Norma Kay and I were talking about the varsity team’s odds on a conference title. Did she tell you about that transfer student that can slam-dunk on a good day?”

Bur slid his arm through Norma Kay’s and yanked her into step. “I can’t say she did, Cory. Why don’t you tell me all about him while we walk up the hill together? Maybe if we all three pray hard enough, you’ll be adding a big silver trophy to the case come next spring.”

Norma Kay bit her tongue as they joined the parade heading up the hill.

The telephone jarred me out of a dreamless sleep. I fumbled my way from under the sheets to peer at the dial of the clock. It was a few minutes past 1:30, I realized as I lunged across the bed and grabbed the receiver.

“What?” I demanded gracelessly.

“Is this Arly Hanks?”

“Except for the monsters under the bed, nobody else lives here. Who’s this?”

“Malachi Hope. There’s been an accident.”

I rubbed the grit out of my eyes as I tried to assimilate his words. “What kind of accident? What are you talking about?”

“A suicide, I think, but you’d better get over here.”

“Whose suicide? Get over where?” I said. “For that matter, how do I know this is really Malachi Hope?”

After a pause, he said, “I met you in the tent yesterday afternoon. I was wearing a gray sweatshirt and jeans, and you were visibly surprised when you found out who I was. You also express a certain degree of skepticism in regard to my healing powers.”

I switched on the bedside light. “Okay, you’re Malachi Hope. Now explain what you said earlier.”

“I don’t think I can explain much. I’m at the high school gym, using the telephone in the office. The girls’ basketball coach is—well, I hope she’s not a close friend of yours … because I don’t know how to put this any other way. She’s dead. Somebody has to do something.”

“Are you sure she’s dead?” I asked.

“I’m very sure, Chief Hanks. Otherwise I would have called an ambulance.” He gulped like a clogged drain. “Should I call the sheriff’s office?”

I was already on my feet, pulling on jeans and looking around for my shoes. “Just sit tight, Mr. Hope. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.” I replaced the receiver, debated calling the sheriff’s office myself, and finally decided to see what the hell was going on at the gym before I called anyone. It was possible I’d fallen for a prank and would find myself in front of a locked building, cursing my stupidity while juvenile delinquents tittered in the brush.

Four and a half minutes later I parked between a gold Cadillac and a less majestic Toyota. The door to the gym was unlocked. I eased it open and squinted into the dark interior, but all I could make out were oblique shadows and corners darker than the inside of a cow. A light was on in a room at the far end, however, so I took a breath and walked briskly across the court.

Malachi Hope was slouched in a chair behind a cluttered desk, his forehead propped on his fists. Whatever evangelical finery he’d worn earlier had been replaced with a more secular sweater. As I stepped into the room, he stood up. “This is a nightmare, Chief Hanks. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“Where’s Norma Kay?”

“Come back into the gym and I’ll show you. I almost feel responsible for this tragedy. If I’d known how desperate she was …”

He stopped outside the door to flick a switch. Overhead lights flooded the room with a harsh white glare that glinted off the varnished benches of the bleachers. Mutely he pointed at the basketball goal at the opposite end of the court. Below it dangled a body, toes just short of the floor. The bright yellow hair was distinctive, the bilious pink sweatsuit infamous. Nearby was an overturned stepladder.

“Oh, my gawd,” I said. “Are you sure …?”

“Yes,” Malachi said, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady either me or himself. “I forced myself to take a closer look. There’s no doubt she’s dead.”

I pulled away from him, ran across the court, and halted beneath the body. As he’d said, there was no doubt, and there was no point in disturbing the scene and destroying what evidence might be gleaned. Once my queasiness subsided and my knees stopped quivering, I returned to the office. “What are you doing here, Mr. Hope?”

“It’s a complicated story. Maybe you ought to call someone before I get into it.”

I edged into the room, keeping an eye on him, and felt behind my back for the telephone. His face was pale, his eyes imploring, his hair rumpled as if he’d been running his fingers through it continually continually since he’d called me. Then again, he’d yet to explain what he was doing in the gym—beyond discovering Norma Kay’s body, that is.

It took a lot of willpower on my part to turn around and punch the numbers of the sheriff’s office. After a certain amount of incredulity, the night dispatcher agreed to call Harve at home and let him know what had happened. I promised to wait by the telephone should instructions be forthcoming, hung up, and turned back.