Merry Wives of Maggody (22 page)

“Where does Janna come in?”

“She saw me at the golf course and told me I had a natural talent. I didn’t even know you could make money playing golf, but she swore that I’d be able to make millions—with her help. My mother couldn’t have cared less what happened to me, so she signed some kind of guardianship paper. Janna resigned from the army, and we moved to an apartment in Farberville so I could play on better courses. I started competing in tournaments at the country club, and then in bigger ones.
Golf Digest
did an article about me.
Sports Illustrated
wanted me to be in their swimsuit issue, but Janna said no. She’s as concerned about my reputation as she is about my game. I spend all day practicing, working out at a gym, and running. At night, she makes me study history, grammar, boring old books, and that sort of stuff so I won’t sound ignorant. It’s not like the interviewers ever ask me about the Battle of Hastings.”

It sounded like boot camp, minus the obstacle course and the firing range. Having met Janna, I had no trouble believing Natalie.

“How does she afford all this?”

“She never spent a penny of her army pay, and now she gets a pension. She also teaches a couple of fitness classes at the gym. She’s so tough that half her clients crawl out to the parking lot after class. She took over a seniors’ class, and the manager had to call an ambulance three times in the first month.” Natalie giggled as if she were still fourteen and we were having a sleepover. I almost expected her to pass chips and dip, or pull out her yearbook.

I had to remind myself that she wasn’t talking about the high school hierarchy. When I lived in Manhattan, I always took whichever fitness class was trendy at the time. We strolled rather than walked. We allowed our husbands to open wine bottles and doormen to open doors. Our most strenuous challenge was wielding credit cards. I was so lost in memories of my previous life that it took me a second to realize that someone was driving past the house. By the time I turned around to look out the window, the road was clear.

“Did you see who that was?” I asked.

Natalie shook her head. “The rain’s stopped. Do you think I should leave a note for Kevin’s wife, thanking her for letting me hang out here?”

“Definitely not. She’s… ah, temperamental. Why did you come here, Natalie? Janna offered to wait and give you a ride to the motel, and so did Frederick Cartier. Were you planning to meet someone once the coast was clear?”

“Who would I want to meet—some toothless redneck? One of those piggish local men? I may not have a degree, but I’m not an idiot. I just wanted some time to myself. Janna and I have been crammed in that tiny motel room since Friday.”

“You managed to party Friday and Saturday nights,” I pointed out.

“It wasn’t like there was anything else to do.”

Hazy sunlight began to lighten the room. Before she could bolt, I said, “Tell me about the sexual assault. Who, where, when.”

“Oh, that.” She made a face. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’d just as soon forget about it. Janna shouldn’t have mentioned it to you.”

“Sexual assault’s a crime that I take very seriously,” I said. “I’ve been known to ignore shoplifting or running the stoplight, but this needs to be investigated.”

“I was dashing across the parking lot when I slipped and tore my shirt. Janna jumped to the conclusion I’d been assaulted, and I was too tired to argue with her. Not that it would have done any good. She never listens to me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you did on Friday, beginning with your arrival?”

She began to wander around the room. “I’ll try,” she said at last, “but I may not remember every little thing. after we checked into the motel, we went to the golf course. As soon as I saw it, I was ready to pack up and go home, but Janna didn’t want to hear it. I played eighteen holes with Kale, some guy named Big Dick, and that asshole Bonaparte. If you want to know about Tommy, I met him a couple of years ago at a tournament in Tulsa. He was a fun guy and a real party animal. He’d won his flight and was buying drinks for everybody.” She smiled sadly. “Poor guy, getting killed like that. I hope he was so drunk that he didn’t suffer. Anyway, after the practice round there was an impromptu party in the bar, like a get-acquainted thing. Beer, burgers, pretzels, popcorn, dancing, what ever. At nine, Janna decided she was tired, so we went to our room. Once she took an antihistamine, she was out like a light. I couldn’t see just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, so I went back to the party and stayed until midnight or so. I guess I had a little too much to drink.”

“So there was no assault,” I said. “You tripped in the parking lot between the two motel buildings. Instead of telling Janna the truth, you made up the story just so you wouldn’t have to admit to drinking.” When she shrugged, I went on. “Now tell me about yesterday. What did you do after Tommy made his hole-in-one?”

“I was happy for him ’cause I knew how much he wanted to win the boat. I was playing with three men from Starley City. We finished the round and turned in our scorecards, and then they heard the news and drove off. I drank some champagne with Tommy. Janna glared at me, but I didn’t care, even if it meant running extra laps when I got home. Everybody else was drinking, too. after we ate, we went to the bar. Tommy was loud and obnoxious, to be honest. Bonaparte looked like he wanted to pick up the jukebox and drop it on him. Jim Bob was simmering like a pot of chili. Even Amanda Gilbert was muttering nasty things under her breath, and she doesn’t give a shit about golf tournaments. The only reason she tags along with her husband is to flirt with the golf studs.”

“Where was Janna?” I asked.

“She said she felt woozy and needed to go to bed. The next time I looked around for her, she was gone.”

“Let’s talk about the little contest out on the highway after Ruby Bee closed the bar.” I put my forearms on my knees and leaned forward. “Don’t bother to deny it, Natalie. I’ve already got evidence.” I did a pretty good job of sounding confident, even though the golf balls in the ditch across from the SuperSaver were long gone.

“It was so dumb,” she said. “I think it was Bonaparte’s idea, but I’m not sure. Everybody jumped right in. Phil Proodle said he’d award a bottle of scotch to the winner. Tommy was bragging how he was going to use the pot to buy fishing gear. Everybody was really mad at him. I thought the contest was a terrible idea, but I went along with it because I thought it was better than a lynch mob.”

I doubted that she’d been all that reluctant to join in the fun.

“Who ended up participating?”

“Bonaparte, since it was his idea, and Tommy, who’d bet on the color of his eyes and figure out how to win. Amanda came along to bitch at Dennis. Jim Bob, that guy called Big Dick, and some other guys whose names I don’t remember. The pimply kid, Kale. Bopeep stormed off after her boyfriend said he was in. Proodle was the judge. About a dozen altogether, I’d say. I shouldn’t have worried about a hanging. Most of them were too drunk to tie their shoelaces.”

“So who won?”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Take a wild guess. When I left, they were all arguing and Tommy was prancing around with a fistful of money, chortling like he’d won the U.S. Open. It was way after one o’clock, so it was lucky for me that Janna didn’t hear me come in. She thinks I should be in my pajamas by nine, reading a biography about a dead president.” She put her fingers to her lips.

“Oops, I guess I shouldn’t say that with Tommy being…”

“Dead,” I concluded for her. “You have no idea what happened after that?”

“Sorry. If it’s okay with you, I should go to the motel and let Janna know that I’m okay.”

“I’ll give you a ride.” I locked the front door when we left, hoping Dahlia never learned that her house had been invaded by a petite blonde who could get lost for a month in one of Dahlia’s dresses. As we drove to the Flamingo Motel, I again asked Natalie if she’d planned to meet anyone after the storm hit. She countered with questions about my job and how I got along with the sheriff and men like Jim Bob. Neither of us was satisfied when I dropped her in front of her motel room.

Janna’s car was there. I waited for a moment in case I heard shrieking, then abandoned all pretenses of being a professional and headed to my apartment for a hot shower.

Ten

I
was feeling new and improved as I went inside Ruby Bee’s. I wore my uniform and badge, and my hair was pinned up in a permafrost bun. Ruby Bee gave me a startled look, then ducked into the kitchen; Estelle merely watched me approach. I wasn’t sure if my latest sin was of omission or commission, but I didn’t really care. Kathleen Wasson was seated in a booth, nibbling a grilled cheese sandwich. I sat down across from her. “You doing all right?” I asked her.

“Oh, Chief Hanks, how kind of you to ask. What a horrible weekend this has been. That nice man was killed, and then the storm, and now we’re here for another day. I’ll have to call in sick tomorrow. I don’t know what we’ll do if I lose my job.” She put down the remains of the sandwich and pushed aside the plate.

“I work for a house cleaning ser vice and get paid by the hour, minimum wage. We barely squeeze by as it is, and it’s not like I can work a late shift. People don’t want you mopping floors and vacuuming in the evening.”

“I’m sorry about all this. I can take your statement now, and then you can go back to Farberville so you won’t have to miss work. Ruby Bee will keep an eye on your son.”

“I can’t leave Kale alone,” Kathleen said in a shocked voice.

“He may play golf like an adult, but he’s not even old enough to vote.”

I didn’t point out that her baby was currently drinking his weight with the good ol’ boys out back, most of whom thought a ballot was a sad song. “It’s your decision. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me about Friday and Saturday? I’ll catch up with Kale later.”

Kathleen picked up a glass of iced tea with an unsteady hand, took a sip, and then put it down very carefully. At that rate, I thought, she’d finish it long about midnight. “Kale didn’t want to come on Friday, but I persuaded him. He’s done very well on the junior golf circuit, but it’s important that he makes a name for himself as a serious competitor in the future.” Her eyes began to well with tears. “I’ve raised him on my own,” she continued unsteadily.

“His father took up with a mud wrestler named Betty Boob before Kale’s first birthday, and never paid a dime of child support or sent a Christmas present. Kale needed a father, a role model, someone to admire. I know I spoil him, and there are times when he’s surly. He’s still grateful in his own way.”

Or might be in twenty years. “You went to the golf course, right?”

“Kale brightened up when he saw Natalie Hotz. I shouldn’t tell you this, but he has a tiny crush on her. That rude Janna Coulter wants everybody to believe that her precious Natalie is as pure as the morning dew, all sweet and modest and chaste. Well, I know better. I’ve seen her flirting with men twice her age—and drinking alcohol, even though she’s under twenty-one. She’ll end up in a trailer park. As for Janna, I picture her working as a prison guard or a matron in a psychiatric hospital. Anywhere she can slap people around and get away with it.”

I cleverly deduced that she and Janna were not friends. “Did Kale play a practice round on Friday?”

“He played well, considering that sorry excuse for a course. afterwards he tried to talk to Natalie, but she was too busy giggling with those college boys. Janna’s face was as purple as an eggplant. Kale and I came back here, had supper, and went to our room before things got rowdy. I read while he watched TV. On Saturday when he heard that Tommy won the boat, he was disappointed, naturally, but determined to win the tournament. You know how boys are. He wanted to impress Natalie.” She grimaced at me as if we were compatriots. “I guess age is the only cure for hormones.”

I wondered at what age she thought hormones dissolved into an insatiable passion for oatmeal and tapioca. “Did you have dinner at the golf course?”

“Yes,” Kathleen said, “but it was dreadful. Not the food, of course. It was very nice. The preacher who gave the blessing rambled on forever about the Salvation Army. There was so much drinking, cursing, and blustering that I was obliged to get Kale out of there before he could be exposed to more of that sordid behavior. These men are not the role models he needs. The only gentleman there was Mr. Cartier. He’s always so nice and polite. It’s a wonder why some woman hasn’t snatched him up. Do you think he could be… well, one of those?”

I realized that Ruby Bee and Estelle were apt to be the only two women in town not calculating their chances with Frederick—and not as a role model. “Beats me. Were you and Kale in your room the rest of the evening?”

“I washed some underthings in the sink and hung them to dry on the shower curtain rod. Kale played games on his little computer toy.” She began to pick at the sandwich crust, scattering crumbs on the plate. She looked so uncomfortable that I was worried about the possibility of an unpleasant eruption across the table. My backup uniform was stuffed in a pillowcase, along with other clothes destined for the Suds of Fun whenever I got around to it. To my relief, she managed another sip of tea, then said, “I took Kale’s clubs out back and hosed them off like I did Friday evening. They were so covered with mud that I could barely tell them apart. I always travel with an old toothbrush so I can get off every bit of dirt. We were both in bed by ten o’clock.” She looked out the window with a vague frown, as if the tea had left an unpleasant taste.

“The rain’s stopped. I told Kale I’d bring him something for lunch. He’d live on canned sodas and ice cream if I let him.”

She scurried away before I could suggest that she consult Kale first, since he was liable to be between invincible and invisible—if he hadn’t passed out. Even though my thirty-something-year-old hormones were ready for lunch, I walked to the PD.

Les, one of Harve’s more capable deputies, was waiting for me.

After declining a cup of coffee, he said, “I started running background checks on the names you called in. There’re some problems. For one thing, Frederick Cartier doesn’t exist.”