Choke (13 page)

The drowsy chirp of crickets sang them to the door. Far in the distance, a pack of coyotes yipped. Immy looked up and saw a full moon, its pale radiance filtered through the branches of the huge live oak in Clem’s front yard. As far as she knew, this house had been in Clem’s family for generations. That tree might have been a sapling when the house was built. It was a nice, sturdy stone house, if a little on the small side. She and her family probably had more room in their trailer, but it was a good, safe place for Drew to stay for a while.

Clem answered her soft knock and let them in. He took a step back at the sight of Hortense, still dusted with soot. Immy was dirty, too, but Clem had eyes only for Hortense. He threw the door wide and ushered them in with an old-fashioned bow. He was amazingly flexible for having such a large roll of tummy fat.

“You’ve managed to get away from the law all this time, haven’t you, Hortense?” he said, his eyes following her entrance and shining with admiration. “How in tarnation did you do that?”

“I sprang her, Clem,” said Immy, wanting some credit for all her trouble. “I’ve kept her safe.” Except for a little smoke damage.

“You’re a dear daughter,” he said, patting her on the head like a dog as she passed him, or maybe a very young child.

“We had a conflagration,” Hortense told him.

“I started a fire in our motel room,” added Immy, “and my cell phone is dead. I wanted to see Drew and tell her goodnight, if she’s still up.” Immy wasn’t going to say anything about it being past Drew’s normal bedtime. These were not normal times.

Clem waved Immy into the kitchen and joined Hortense where she had collapsed onto his nubby blue couch. The springs groaned from the combined burden of the two heavyweights.

“Hi, Sugar,” said Immy, giving her daughter a kiss on the top of her dear head. Immy plugged her phone and her charger into the socket on the kitchen counter to at least give it a few minutes of juice.

Drew giggled. “Are you talking to me or to these?” She pointed to the fort she was constructing on the scarred, wooden kitchen table.

Immy sat beside her and chuckled at Drew’s joke. The child was building a fort with sugar packets. They were hard to stack and kept sliding off each other, but Drew was persistent in sticking with it. “That’s funny, Drew, a good joke. Hey, I’ve missed you.” She kissed the top of Drew’s head again and inhaled her clean, innocent scent. She couldn’t get enough of it. “Geemaw and I have to, um, be away for a little longer. Can you stay with Uncle Clem for a while more?”

“He’s pretty fun. He makes me special Drew pancakes with the letter D on ‘em.”

It was good he was fixing meals for Drew, she thought. The kiss Immy planted on her daughter’s cheek left a black streak.

“You sure are kissing a lot today. You look funny, Mommy. You’re all dirty. Did you play in the mud?”

She told Drew she’s been in some smoke, then went to Clem’s bathroom to wash her face and scrub her hands. She brushed what she could off her jeans and top, but they would probably have to be discarded. The soot was ground into the fibers, it seemed.

After Hortense washed up, they left. Clem stood at his front door, waving goodbye with tears in his hangdog eyes. Drew stood beside him, waving, too. As much as Clem adored Hortense, he hadn’t offered them anything to eat.
Strange man
, thought Immy.

The road blurred in front of Immy from her own tears at leaving her daughter. How much longer would it be before they could live like a normal family again?

She drove back down the same dirt road to Bryson’s Corner and parked, and this time they both slept until the sun assaulted their eyelids, flooding in through the windshield, only slightly filtered by the stunted mesquite trees.

Immy yawned and stretched, then found a spot of especially thick growth to hide behind while she relieved herself. Hortense followed suit with minimal groaning during her squat. They both retrieved clean clothing from their suitcases.

“Do you think these can be washed?” Immy held her smoky clothes at arm’s length as they dressed behind the van. The clothing felt greasy. There were no socks in her suitcase, so once again, she pulled on the dirty ones. She had thought she found two pair of sneakers on the floor of her closet in the dark, but she had ended up with one old sneaker, one new one, and her restaurant shoes. Ugly, black things, but comfortable. That’s what she wore. No sense in looking completely bonkers with mismatched shoes.

Hortense sighed, handed her doffed garment to Immy, and shook her head. “That was one of my favorite housedresses.”

Immy stuffed the clothing under the thick layer of dank mesquite leaves on the ground, and they both climbed back into the van.

“Now what?” asked Hortense, buckling herself in.

After Immy started the engine and looked at the fuel gauge, she answered. “Now we get gas.”
And, I hope, a place to put a little more charge on my phone.

They pulled into a service station near Range City. After sticking the hose in the gas tank, Immy headed for the door labeled Ladie’s to use it and its outlet. She knew her mother would want to move that apostrophe when she saw it misplaced like that.

However, her phone wasn’t in her purse. She dug through it in the dim light of the tiny cubicle, refusing to dump it on the sticky floor, but there was no phone. And no charger.

Aha! She had left the cell and the charger at Clem’s, charging away on his kitchen counter, and she couldn’t get it. He’d be at the diner now. She would just have to wait until he came home. She didn’t feel like doing any more B & Es for a while. Smelling as smoky as she did, she couldn’t hope to avoid detection. At least her phone should be fully charged by the time she picked it up.

While Hortense used the restroom—after commenting, sure enough, that the sign was incorrect and should have the apostrophe at the end of the word—Immy wandered the two narrow aisles of the attached convenience store. She picked up a can of chips and some licorice, two of her mother’s favorites. Come to think of it, almost all the items on the snack shelf were her mother’s favorites. Without access to a hot plate, they’d have to eat snack food. She got some beef jerky for protein. Not that they would be having anything approaching a balanced diet for a while. When her life as a desperado was over, Immy would be very good about eating a healthy diet, she swore.

Hating to think of what would be in it, but wanting to be up to date, she grabbed a newspaper at the checkout counter. She kept it folded while she paid in case her picture was on the front page. The clerk wasn’t paying much attention to her, but a matching photo in the newspaper might get his attention.

“Where to now, dear?” asked Hortense as Immy started the engine and pulled out of the station.

“I don’t know, Mother. Any ideas?” She had no idea how to go about finding Huey’s killer anymore. Nothing was working. Everything she did seemed to make matters worse. “Why don’t you see what the paper is saying about us?”

Immy didn’t even know which way to turn on the highway. Back toward Saltlick? Or keep hightailing it out of there?

Hortense rattled the paper as Immy decided to head back to the scene of the crime.

“We don’t seem to be mentioned on page one,” said Hortense.

“That’s a relief.”

“Oh, I’m mistaken. There we are.”

Immy pulled onto the shoulder abruptly, setting off horns behind her. “Where?” She followed her mother’s finger to the first story under the fold. “Hey, they’re giving us credit for busting a dope ring!” Immy’s face almost cracked with her huge grin, it had been so long since she had smiled that big. She held up her palm, and Hortense returned her high-five. “They don’t name us, though. It says two occupants, who started a fire accidently, are credited with the capture. We’re heroes!”

“Heroines, technically,” said Hortense, “but yes, we do seem to be minor local celebrities.”

“Maybe we can come in from the cold now.” She peered over her mother’s considerable shoulder and noticed the date at the top of the page. “Hey, it’s Saturday today. I wonder what Clem’s doing with Drew.”

“What has he been doing with her the other days? Her pre-school doesn’t occupy all the business hours of the restaurant.”

“I don’t know. I never asked. Maybe he takes her with him to the diner. He’d better not be leaving her alone in his house.”

“Shall we ascertain that?”

Immy was all for it. It was a place to go and something to do, anyway.

“Exercise caution, dear,” said Hortense. “You don’t want to be incarcerated for breaking and entering.”

“You’re right, Mother, I don’t.” Breaking and entering? Not trespassing upon the premises or something like that? What was Mother coming to? She was turning into a hardened criminal, her own mother.

They’d driven around Clem’s block three times, and the neighbors next door to Clem had waved to them every time.

“Do you think we look suspicious?” asked Immy.

“It’s a possibility. We’re still rather grimy. Maybe we should wait until it’s dark.”

“If Drew is in there alone, I’m not waiting for dark.” Immy drove up to Clem’s house and parked. “I’ll go around back. A B and E is less obvious if done from the rear.”

Immy couldn’t read her mother’s expression as she climbed down from the van and started around the cottage.

“Howdy!” The neighbors waved again.
That makes four times. Aren’t they tired of that?

Immy waved back.

“I don’t think he’s home,” the woman called.

Immy ignored her and kept going.

The back door wasn’t locked.
So I’m not breaking anyway, just entering.
The kitchen was dark. She tiptoed into the living room and surprised a tawny cat whose weight would rival Clem’s if it were human. The cat streaked down the short hallway faster than Immy had imagined it could. She hadn’t seen it on their last trip here and surmised it was afraid of strangers. A quick search of the two small bedrooms and one bath told her Drew wasn’t there. She breathed her relief, standing in the room Drew was obviously using. Three Barbies were propped on the pillow. They were all new ones. Immy wiped a sudden tear at the thought of Clem’s kindness and indulgence. He might make a good step-grandfather some day.

She reluctantly left the temporary room of her daughter.

On her way out through the kitchen she spied her cell phone, still on the charger and still plugged into the wall. She had almost forgotten about it, but she grabbed it before leaving.

The neighbor yoo-hooed and waved again as she returned to the van and backed out of the driveway.

“Are you all right, dear?” asked Hortense.

Immy realized she was still shedding tears. “I miss Drew so much, and I miss our house.”

“Maybe the criminal justice system no longer regards us as felons. We are credited with apprehending the methamphetamine makers, and you said the only transgression on our record is the destruction of restroom property.”

“I foiled the bank heist, too. Maybe we should show up at the station for our medals.” Immy’s mood brightened. She drove slowly in the direction of the police station.

Hortense gave her a doubtful look.

“I was kidding about the medals, Mother.”

Hortense drummed her fingers on the armrest, her eyes narrowed in thought. “You might be partially correct, though. There may be some amount of appreciation shown us. An article I read before we fled the conflagration said I was merely being held for questioning in Hugh’s death. It intimated that I had never been arrested.”

“What are you saying? You didn’t need to be sprung?”

“I guess I’m saying that the breakout may not have been necessary, and your actions may have been precipitous.”

“I busted you out for nothing? We’ve been on the lam for nothing?” Immy twisted the steering wheel and aimed the van for Huey’s Hash. She was going to see Drew. If they got picked up and arrested, well… They wouldn’t do that, would they? The local heroes—correction, heroines? But if, just if, she wanted to see Drew again one last time. In case Chief Emmett had a BOLO out on them, or even an APB, she pulled behind the diner, and they entered through the back alley door.

“Mommy!” Drew ran to Immy, stepping on the picture she had been coloring on the kitchen floor. “Are we going home now?” Her little chin quivered, and Immy’s heart felt tight in her chest.

“Maybe. Where’s Uncle Clem?”

“He went upstairs.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling where Immy could now hear Clem clumping around Huey’s wood-floored office.

“I suppose with Hugh deceased, he needs to do the ordering of the produce now,” said Hortense. She pulled out the stool Clem usually used and hoisted half her rear end onto it. The other half didn’t fit.

“He’ll at least need to order sugar,” said Immy. “The most recent shipment was stolen when Uncle Huey was killed, Clem said. I wonder what in the world the perp wants with that stuff, although maybe Clem already got some more.” She glanced at Drew’s lopsided structure on the kitchen table. “Drew is finding plenty to play with.”

The stairs rattled with Clem’s descent. He paused when he saw the two women, then broke into smiles when he realized one of them was his beloved Hortense.

“How’s Drew been?” Immy asked, getting right down to the reason they’d come. Drew wrapped her arms around Immy’s blue-jeaned legs and held on. Immy stroked her daughter’s shiny brown curls. Drew’s hair smelled clean and was brushed.

“She’s been an angel. Haven’t you, sweetie?” Clem stood behind Hortense, who was still perched on the stool, massaging her shoulders with his ham fists.

Drew buried her head between Immy’s legs.

“You miss me, Drew?”

“Mommy.” The child started to sob, and Immy made up her mind.

“We’re going home now, Drew.” The tears dried in an instant, and the sun broke forth on Drew’s little face. Immy’s heart lifted, too. “We’ll pick up her clothes at your house later, Clem, after you close up tonight.”

“How’s the business?” asked Hortense.

Clem cleared his throat and assumed a serious attitude. “Perversely, it’s been great.” Immy thought he tried to impress Hortense with his words sometimes. “I think morbid curiosity is making people come in and check the place out. That’s all right with me, though. It’s better for your family if business is good.”