Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 04 (28 page)

"So it was all linked to Pineyville," he said. "I suppose I was being foolish to harp on the other murder, although the similarity was hard to miss."

I put an elbow on the bar and propped my chin in my hand. "I'd better call Detective Cannelli before too long."

"To schedule your weekend of passion in Las Vegas?"

"I don't think so," I said morosely. "That place is as unreal as these people. No, I need to tell him who murdered the St. James woman."

Plover stiffened, and if he'd been a hedgehog, he would have bristled. "Did St. James confess to you?"

"No, but the night of the murder he was sharing a room with Frederick, and started talking about his wife's unilateral decision to have an abortion. It may have ignited something. Anderson's afraid he doesn't remember driving to L.A., but I think it's more likely Frederick decided to save him the trouble of a divorce."

"A real wacko."

"The parallel between his mother's story and the plot of Wild Cherry Wine must have hit him where it really hurt. That, along with the confusion of Gwenneth, his self-proclaimed sister, playing the role of Loretta, who symbolized his mother, and Buddy, his father, being her father ... and poor Kitty, who made the mistake of making Buddy happy. Jesus, what a mess." I was about to sigh when it hit me. I must have had a peculiar look on my face, because Plover narrowed his eyes and leaned away from me.

"What?" he said.

"What about Hal, to be precise," I corrected him. "In Frederick's grossly disturbed scenario, everybody was somebody else. The only person who was adamant about his position in the hierarchy was Hal Desmond."

"Producer? Director? Dope king?"

"The company was just a big, happy family, and Hal seized numerous opportunities to cast himself in the role of its head. A regular Daddy dearest, demanding an incestuous and abusive relationship with his daughter, also known as Frederick's sister. He not only demanded it, he flaunted it in their faces. I think Hal might have lived longer if he'd chosen another role for himself."

"Other than Father Phallic, that is," Plover murmured. He mulled over my theory for a moment, then said, "We'll have to prove it, but at least we know whose prints to look for first. Frederick Marland really was out of control with all this swirling around him. Fathers, daughters, sons, and lovers. A saner man than he might have snapped, too, just from trying to keep it straight in his mind."

"I'm sure his lawyer will be eager to mention as much. On the other hand, Frederick didn't join Glittertown by accident, and he was careful to provide himself with alibis. He knew what he was doing -- and why. The why is sick, but it makes sense." I put my hand on my face and rubbed my temples. "The what isn't all that charming, either."

Plover leaned over the bar and got me a glass of water. "Here, you look like last year's laundry."

"Oddly enough, that's what I feel like," I said. "Dirty and wrinkled and beginning to mildew."

Ruby Bee approached cautiously. "By the way, you had a call while you were gone earlier. Les said to tell you he'd finally talked to the folks what live on the Hasty road. The wife let Billy Dick in to call the fire department, but at about the same time, the husband was driving up the road on his way home from Hasty, and he passed a skinny kid on a bicycle, going the opposite way and pedaling so hard his rear wheel was smoking. Thinks he can identify him if he sees him."

"Bingo," I said, although without enthusiasm. "One red taillight going over a hill. That's a case against Willard Yarrow. Billy Dick's not willing to take the blame; he must have suspected Willard was behind the fires." I took a mouthful of water and let it dribble down my throat as I considered an unpleasant idea. "I'm surprised I wasn't invited along on the so-called picnic. Willard was stalking me, and making sure I knew it by leaving little messages. It's comforting to know I wasn't paranoid."

"Nobody accused you of that," Plover said. "Well, except for the bomb squad. Your breathless demand that they examine the two cars with microscopes cost them several hours. All they found in yours was a loose battery cable. Oh, and tell Ruby Bee to have her oil changed and stop leaving apple cores under the front seat."

"So I'm a little bit paranoid," I said gracelessly. "Blame it on the lack of a father figure in my formative years, and congratulate me on becoming such a charming, intelligent, law-abiding person -- compared to all these other products of dysfunctional families." I finished off the water and banged down the glass so hard that everyone turned to stare at me. "I wish somebody'd tell me one thing: What the hell happened to Ward Cleaver?"

-- ==+== --

"Bring me a fresh compress when you have a moment," Mrs. Jim Bob called from the living room to Perkins's eldest, who was scouring pans at the kitchen sink. "I don't remember when I've had such an excruciatingly painful headache -- and it's entirely the fault of those lascivious Hollywood people and their corrupting influence. To think they could pull the wool over Brother Verber's eyes like that!"

Perkins's eldest put the last pan on the counter, removed the plug, and listened to the gurgly water swirl down the drain.

"He never would have allowed nakedness in the house of the Lord," Mrs. Jim Bob continued as she adjusted a throw pillow under her head. "He may have slipped on occasion, but he was truly repentant when I pointed out his sinfulness. He was grateful, too, although it was nothing more than my Christian duty. Are you bringing that compress?"

Perkins's eldest went out to the breakfast room and looked at the couple in the backyard. Gwenneth D'Amourre looked real sweet as she lay draped in the hammock, and Jim Bob looked pleased as he sat close enough to rock the hammock and twirl golden curls around his finger. It occurred to Perkins's eldest that the two might like some lemonade, so she slipped back into the kitchen and carefully opened the cabinet.

"You don't suppose anyone in the Missionary Society's going to look askance at me because my house was supposed to be in that filthy movie?" Mrs. Jim Bob said, sitting up so quickly that the folded washcloth fell off her forehead. She waited for a moment. "Well, of course you don't know how anyone in the Missionary Society might react; I was merely airing my concern aloud. Membership is restricted to those women of the congregation who've shown unfailing piety and a willingness to aid the unfortunate."

Perkins's eldest fixed a tray and took it out to the backyard. She came extremely close to smiling when the actress cooed at the dainty linen napkins and the porcelain plate with artfully arranged lemon cookies, but she didn't.

"I imagine you're wondering how we display our Christian zeal," Mrs. Jim Bob said. She held the compress to her forehead and, despite the flickers of pain, patiently explained to Perkins's eldest how the society prayed for heathens and sinners everywhere for fifteen minutes straight before they broke for coffee and dessert.

-- ==+== --

Darla Jean reluctantly answered the telephone, not in the mood to talk to anyone and especially not in the mood to talk to Heather.

"Want to go shopping?" Heather began, even though she knew what the response would be.

"I'm grounded for the summer."

Heather gave Traci a mischievous smile but turned on the sympathy as she said, "Oh, Darla Jean, that's terrible. How come?"

"Because I had to go to the state police office to tell them about something, and my parents kept nagging until I told them what I said. That's how come I'm grounded -- as if you didn't already know. Arly came by and talked to them a couple of times, so I may be allowed out of the house for the first football game next fall."

"Is there any chance you're ... pregnant?"

"No." Darla Jean hung up and lay back on the bed, thinking that famous Hollywood movie stars weren't all they were cracked up to be. The more she thought about it (and she had plenty of time), the better Dwayne looked, and before too long she called him to tell him as much. Sad to say, access to her second-story bedroom window was discussed.

-- ==+== --

Kevin Buchanon held three large sacks emblazoned with the logo "Jim Bob's SuperSaver Buy 4 Less." When the door opened, he took a deep breath and said, "My beloved honeybee, I've brought you vanilla sandwich cookies, chocolate-covered raisins, a dozen doughnuts, a six-pack of orange soda pop, and all the cream-filled sponge cakes they had at the store. Please accept them and -- "

He broke off as the sacks were yanked out of his arms, and he was still gaping as the door slammed in his face, missing his nose by no more than a scant inch. "Women! " he muttered as he trudged back down the road. "I just don't understand 'em."

-- ==+== --

"Did you come out of desperation?" Plover asked amiably.

"Yeah," I said, settling my feet on the dashboard, "I did. Now that Glittertown Productions, Inc., is long gone and the fire department's watching the ninth inning, there's nothing else to do."

"Nothing at all?"

"Oh, I tried to find Raz's still yesterday, but he was crafty enough to move it. Ruby Bee said she heard it's in a shallow cave toward the south end of Cotter's Ridge. Estelle, on the other hand, heard it was near Boone Creek. Once my poison ivy eases up, maybe I'll take another stab at it. Or let it go."

"I wasn't sure you'd come tonight," he said.

He looked as if he had something more to say, but I didn't want to hear any awkwardly phrased sentiments. I didn't want to hear any elegantly phrased ones, either. I held up my hand and said, "Don't forget I was reared on the timeless adage 'Save the last dance for the feller what brung you.' If you'll turn up the speaker, I'll share my popcorn." The opening credits of Tanya Makes the Team began to flash on the vast screen.

FADE-OUT.