Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 04 (18 page)

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By the time Plover came into the PD, it was dark outside. He stopped by the door and said, "Any news?"

"No bodies have been found, dead or alive. The movie people are having dinner in Carlotta's room, and I think we ought to put on a second guard when they scatter for bed."

"I'll do my best. Not much from the lab, by the way. The weapon was a knife with a six-inch blade and a nick on one edge. If we find it, we can hope for a positive ID. The ... word on the mirror was written by a gloved hand. The body's been sent to the state lab for an official autopsy."

"I won't hold my breath until they determine the cause of death," I murmured.

"What about your firebug?"

"Les Vernon left a message that Willard Yarrow does okay in school and is neither liked nor disliked. The counselor talked to him several times about getting carried away with this roleplaying game to the exclusion of school-related activities, but that's all." I tipped back in the chair and stared at the water stains on the ceiling. "I'm not going to spend a lot of time trying to nail Billy Dick. I'm a helluva lot more worried about the production company. Hal made a joke about everybody disappearing, and I was in a cold sweat until I rounded them up. Where can Meredith and Fuzzy be? Even if one of them killed Kitty Kaye, he can't just evaporate. Somehow both of them simply walked into the sunset -- and in Fuzzy's case, the sunset took place in the middle of the day."

"We're checking every place along the highway," Plover said, "and I suppose we can search the ridge tomorrow."

"I'll be sure and ask Harve for helicopters and dogs. Maybe he'll lead one of the posses."

"In a tutu," Plover said with a chuckle. It was the first time I'd heard it in a long time, and we smiled at each other. "You have plans for tonight?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I do," I said. I did not elaborate, and he tossed out something about calling in the morning as he went to his car. This left me in a fine position to savor a can of soup and a novel in my apartment, and that's where I was headed when I remembered I hadn't asked Carlotta who suggested Maggody. The magnetism of soup and novel was strong, but I went back into the PD and dialed her number.

"Yes?" Gwenneth answered. In the background I could hear Hal and Carlotta arguing, but I asked to speak to her and she sounded composed when she came on the line.

I asked my question and poised my pencil over my notebook. After a while I put it down and said, "You did say one of the crew was from around here, didn't you?"

"I'm trying to remember. It was on the set of Prickly Passion, during a lull, and I think it was Buddy. He put on this really absurd accent and started hunkering around and acting like a yokel. Hal caught the tail end of the act, decided it would do well as a concept, and then Buddy said he grew up in some minute town in the Ozarks that would be perfect."

"But he wasn't from Maggody," I said, puzzled.

"No, it was some dreary little place that was down to a handful of people and a few houses. We required something a tad livelier than" -- she paused and then sighed -- "something like Pineville or Peenville. It's not even a wide place in the road anymore. I was through it before I realized I'd been in it, and I kept right on going."

I thanked her, locked the PD, and went to my apartment to hunt through my collection of road maps. In the southwest corner of Missouri I located a dot named Pineyville. No more than an hour's drive, I decided with more enthusiasm than the discovery merited. Even if this was Meredith's hometown, he had no way to get there -- or a reason to go there, unless he'd murdered his wife and needed to hide.

But it was the first link between the area and the Hollywood people. Maybe I'd learn that Pineyville was indeed a black hole that had sucked in Meredith and Fuzzy and was now awaiting its next inhalee.

Chapter 12

14 WILD CHERRY WINE" (REVISED 5/24)

26 INT. CHURCH -- DAY -- CLOSE ANGLE -- PIPKIN

PREACHER PIPKIN is sitting in a pew. CAMERA FOLLOWS Loretta as she comes in furtively and sits in the pew behind him. Pipkin does not acknowledge her.

LORETTA

You got to help me, preacher man.

PIPKIN

The Good Books sez you got to honor your father and dear, departed mother. Ain't nothing I can do to dissuade your pa from makin you marry Cooter.

LORETTA

All I want you to do is give me sanctuary until Billy Joe can fetch me. Just let me hide in the choir room for the night. Lucinda's helping Billy Joe find a car so we can leave.

PIPKIN

Who knows you're here?

LORETTA

No one. Billy Joe thinks I'm waitin' at home, but I heard Pa talking to Cooter about rushing up the ceremony. You got to let me stay ...

(beat)

And you got to get a message to Billy Joe telling him where I am.

A calculating expression comes over Pipkin's face. He rubs his palms together.

PIPKIN

And what's in it for me, Loretta? I ain't gonna risk havin' Cooter after me for nuthin'. If I let you hide in the choir room, you got to make it worth my while.

LORETTA

I ain't got no money.

PIPKIN

I ain't talkin' about money. I reckon I'm talkin' about that cot in the choir room. Is you comin'?

CAMERA CLOSEUP of Loretta's face as she realizes what he's talking about. Desperation is replaced by resignation as CAMERA WIDENS and she rises.

LORETTA

And you a man of the cloth ...

PIPKIN

That's why I keep a sheet on that little cot. Close enough.

CUT TO:

-- ==+== --

I was burrowing in my bed and doing my best to wrap the sheets around myself tightly enough to interfere with my circulation. The ringing of the telephone was almost welcome, although it took me a minute to untangle myself and flop across the far side of the bed to grab the receiver. As I mumbled hello, I glanced at the alarm clock. It was a few minutes shy of midnight.

"Arly, this is Wade, Wade Elkins. We've got trouble."

"What's wrong?"

"A fire at the gas station in Hasty. I have to get back there; I just wanted to let you know. Sheriffs on his way."

He hung up before I could ask any questions, but from his panicky tone I realized whatever was happening was damn serious. I pulled on the nearest clothes, ran a comb through my hair and pulled it into a tight ponytail, and ran down the outside stairs and across the road to my car. My gun was inside the PD. I couldn't think of a reason why I'd need it, but I went inside and strapped it on, because, I regret to admit, I could think of reasons why I'd like to use it. I hurried back to the car, hopped in, and turned the key.

Silence.

"Damn it!" I said as I turned the key more tightly and willed the car to start. I might as well have willed it to produce rotors on its roof so I could hover over Hasty. I'd been telling the town council for over a year that I needed a dependable vehicle, and for over a year I'd been met with whines about the budget and promises, never meant to be taken seriously, that allowed us to end the meetings in a spirit of levity.

I couldn't call Wade back. Maggody was dark; not one window was lit, nor did so much as a chicken truck breach the blankness of the road. I ran down the pavement, through the Ruby Bee's Bar & Grill parking lot, and headed for #1. And crashed into a warm body that grabbed me by the arms and barked, á la drill sergeant, "Where do you think you're going?"

For a wild moment, I wondered if I was in the clutches of the maniac who'd murdered Kitty Kaye. I was struggling to free myself when I remembered the guard whose presence I personally, stridently, and at length had demanded. "It's Arly Hanks," I said between gasps. "Chief of Police Hanks."

My arms were released, and the man stepped back to appraise me in the gloomy darkness. "Sorry, Chief, you about seared the skin off me. Why in thunderation are you dashing around like this?"

"I need a car. Mine won't start. I'm going to borrow my mother's, and she lives in that first unit."

"Can't see anything wrong with that," he began, but I missed the rest of it as I hurried to Ruby Bee's door and pounded on it loudly enough to rouse everyone within a mile or so, including those in fancy pastel boxes out behind the Methodist church and six feet under.

It took Ruby Bee a good while to answer the door, and when she did, she wore a robe and slippers. Her face was slathered with cream, and the fat pink rollers on her head were hidden under a plastic shower cap. "Arly?" she said querulously. "Land sakes, what time is it?"

"I don't have time to field questions. I need the key to your car."

"It seems awful late for you to be galloping off like this. You might have taken more time with your hair and face. That T-shirt's all stretched out of shape, and those pants are just plain baggy. Maybe you ought to go home and put on something -- "

"The key, Ruby Bee. It's official police business, and it's an emergency."

"Well, I never," she grumbled as she went to her purse and took out her key chain. "I'd like to think there'll be some gas left when you bring it back. Estelle and I are planning to run over to -- "

I snatched the keys out of her hand, pulled the door shut, and got into her car. The trooper saluted me as I drove past him, but I was too frazzled to return the professional courtesy. I turned left and headed for the county road to Hasty, replaying Wade's terse message in my mind. The only gas station in Hasty was across the street from Willard Yarrow's house. A peculiar coincidence, if that's all it was. Gasoline was certainly flammable (or inflammable, if you prefer), so a fire was not unthinkable. Still, we had Billy Dick's playmate and a fire in close proximity. As this mental debate raged on, I realized I was driving more and more slowly, until I was virtually crawling between the rows of dark buildings and the sporadic street lights, some of which worked. There was no reason why I needed to rush to the fire; I was trained for nothing more useful than crowd control, and Harve and his men would be there by now.

I reached a decision before the car came to a complete halt. Billy Dick MacNamara might be sound asleep in his bed, dreaming of sugarplums, with his mother there to swear he hadn't left the house since supper. Or he might not be.

As I drove up his driveway, I noted that the house was dark. A truck was parked in the yard, however, and as I pulled in next to it, my (Ruby Bee's) headlights flashed on two figures sitting on the top step of the porch. I cut off the lights, took a deep breath, and got out of the car.

"I want to talk to you," I said as I approached them.

"Fine night, ain't it?" Billy Dick said. "We're j-just sitting here admiring the moon." Beside him, Willard was motionless; for all I knew, he could have been unconscious and propped up next to him like a cardboard silhouette.

"How long have you been admiring the moon?"

"Couldn't say. You know, when the moon rose a while back, it was real big and this fierce, hot orange color. It looked like a demonic jack-o'-lantern, but only till it cleared the trees. Now it's real pretty." I stepped in front of his companion. "How long have you been here, Willard?"

"Since dark, I reckon," he said uncertainly.

"Have you found your way out of the dungeon?" I asked him.

Billy Dick leaned forward and in a whisper said, "Xardak the Wizard was real sure he could sneak by the dragon, but he made a bad decision and the next thing he knew, he was nothing but a crispy critter."

They both began to giggle. The noise was foul, almost pornographic, and I had to order myself not to get back in the car and leave them to their games and dark fantasies. Instead, I went to the truck and put my hand on the hood.

"The engine's hot," I said. "If you've been sitting here for hours, who was driving it in the past few minutes?"

"It's always hot," said Billy Dick. "Sometimes it gets so hot that I'm afraid it'll burst into flames. Is that what happened to your car, Chief Hanks? Did it burst into flames, with clouds of black smoke pouring up from it to fill the sky until you couldn't hardly breathe? Or did it explode like someone had put a stick of dynamite under the hood?"

"Why do you think something happened to my car?" I asked evenly, not allowing myself to admit how much he was unnerving me. Had he done something to my car? Was he implying he would? I didn't care for either.

"I just noticed you weren't driving your official police car with the blue light," he said. I couldn't see his face well, but I could hear his smirk perfectly. "I guess you need the lights when you're in a hurry."

"I'm in no hurry," I said. "You're claiming you've been here since dark and the truck overheated while parked in this spot, right?"

Billy Dick took a drink from a can as he elaborately scratched his head. "Maybe it's some kind of spontaneous combustion, where something gets hotter and hotter until it goes up in flames. Don't stand too close to it, Chief Hanks. It might get too hot for you to handle. You might get burned."

"And be careful with your own car," Willard said. "This spontaneous-combustion stuff could be contagious."

I realized I was gripping my gun, and I uncurled my fingers. Ignoring what we all knew were threats, I said, "Then neither one of you was in Hasty tonight? You don't know anything about a fire at the gas station?"

"How could we?" Billy Dick abruptly grabbed Willard's arm and yanked him up. "Hey, I think we should go over there and take a look, don't you? Those gas tanks might put on a real pyrotechnical display."

"Sure, Billy Dick," the younger boy said. He was trying to display the same level of bravado, but I sensed he was frightened. "Maybe it's burning my house down, too. Boy, that'd piss Pa off."

"But Willard, isn't there some guy who works there at night? You think he might have been in the station when the fire started?"

"Gee, Billy Dick, I don't know, but I hope not. If the doors got jammed, he may be up shit creek."

"Or on his way to hell," Billy Dick countered cheerfully. "See you later, Chief Hanks." As I stared at them, they walked past me, got in the truck, slammed doors, and drove away.

I waited until the taillights disappeared, then sat on the fender of my (Ruby Bee's) car and mulled over what they'd said, what they'd implied, and what I could do with it. Not a blasted thing, I concluded. If I tried to nail them on the basis of the hot engine, they'd remember that they went to the Dee-Lishus for drinks or took a drive in the country, and I'd be hard pressed to prove otherwise. The rest of it could be written off as paranoia on my part.

I was very glad I didn't work at a gas station in Hasty, I told myself as it began to sprinkle. I stayed where I was until rain was beating down on me like frozen bullets and I could barely make out the dark house and vacated porch step.