Joan Hess - Misery Loves Maggody

"It's from an admirer," she said with a wink.

He thought about this for a second, then got back to the serious business of saving souls. "This next part is even trickier, but I'm beginning to feel the spirit and I know you are, too. Before the night is over, we're gonna wash away all our sins and go forth like Christian warriors. Pay attention, 'cause here we go: 'Fornication, gluttony, heathenism, immodesty… jealousy and killin' with a pear.' Think you can do it?"

"A pear?" echoed a woman with white hair.

Brother Verber frowned. "Are you quibbling with the voice of the Almighty God? In Second Colossians, we are told: 'The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, and temperance.' A pear's a fruit, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," she admitted. "But I don't quite see how you'd go about killing somebody with one."

"You know the story of David and Goliath?" said Brother Verber. "Now I'm not saying this is the true story, but you remember how David put a stone in his slingshot, doncha? Only last week I was thinking of buying myself a ripe, juicy pear at the supermarket as a special treat. I could almost smell the sweet nectar dribbling down my chin. My mouth was watering with anticipation." He paused to allow his audience to share his anticipation. "But I groaned with despair when I discovered that the speckled yellow pear was as hard as a chunk of granite. I was so disappointed that I could have slung it across the aisle in frustration, just like David did."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying that David slew Goliath with a pear?"

"We can't know for sure. It's an issue that's plagued biblical scholars for centuries. I think we need to move on to the second verse. We're not even halfway done." He paused, a little bewildered by the enthusiastic response he was receiving. This was a song about sin, after all, and those present were engaging in it in various degrees. "Okay, this second verse requires you to take off like you stuck a fork in an outlet. Ready?"

They all seemed more than just interested.

"What's wrong?" I asked Cherri Lucinda.

"I ain't sure. Well, I have my suspicions, but I hate to say outright 'cause I'm most likely wrong. Did you hear about Estelle winning all that money playing the slots?"

"I was told she won a thousand dollars."

"They gave it to her in chips. She stuffed them in her purse, then sailed right out of the casino like one of those ships on TV on the Fourth of July. You know what I'm talking about?" I nodded, unable to keep myself from picturing Estelle as a figurehead on a Viking ship, her jaw thrust forward and her wooden eyes focused on a yet unconquered continent.

Cherri Lucinda shivered as a gust of wind whipped around us. "I went to catch up with her so I could offer my congratulations, but I saw this man standing real close to her in front of the elevators, holding onto her arm. They got in one and the doors closed before I could get there. The thing is, she looked real perturbed. I don't think she wanted to go with him."

"And?" I said.

"That's about it. It was more than half an hour ago. I was trying to think what to do when I noticed you poking around the casino. I followed you out here, but, well, I got slowed down. You didn't see anything odd, did you-like a person or something?"

"No," I said curtly, not willing to pursue the topic. "Describe this man who was with Estelle."

She tugged on her lip with fingernails long enough to do damage in a crowded room. "Hefty. Brown hair, ordinary features. He was smiling, but the way he was doing it wouldn't have made me invite him into my apartment for a beer. He reminded me of my mama's third husband-and he ain't coming up for parole till the year two thousand and eight."

I was fairly confident I knew the subject under discussion. "He wasn't threatening her in any way?"

Cherri Lucinda gave me a look that implied she put my IQ somewhat lower than that of a slice of cheese. "Not that I could tell."

"Have you seen Baggins?" I asked.

"Since when? I saw him yesterday afternoon, when he gave us our keys. I saw him last night at the roulette table. I saw him this morning, tearing into eggs and ham. I saw him a while back, lined up at the cashier's desk."

"Cashing in his winnings?"

"Not hardly. He was using his credit card to get money. The professor was doing the same, although he was squabbling with them. I guess knowing everything there is to know about Elvis doesn't always cut the mustard. There were several casino guys arguing with him."

"I'd better go make sure Estelle is okay. Thanks for tracking me down."

"You sure you didn't see anybody wandering around out here? A fellow dressed kinda funny, acting like he wanted to have a nice talk?"

I shook my head and went into the lobby. Everybody who was going to check in or out had done so, leaving the bellmen to share a tabloid (EXTRATERRESTRIALS IN CONGRESS!) and the desk clerks to stare at me with far more curiosity than I warranted. I took the elevator to the eighth floor and was digging through my purse for the room key as I stepped into the foyer.

Japonica damn near pushed me back into the elevator. I caught myself and said, "What's going on?"

"Hostage situation. Soon as we get backup from the sheriff's department and the state police, we can seal off the floor. You go downstairs."

I realized she had a gun in her hand. Chief Sanderson stood in the corridor, his weapon drawn. An anemic young man who appeared to be within seconds of both physical and emotional disintegration was slumped against the wall.

"What's going on?" I repeated. "Have the ladies from Tuscaloosa kidnapped one of those cute little croupiers to be their sex toy?"

"Get out of here," Japonica said as she moved behind her boss. "We can't know for sure, but we figure he's armed."

"Who?" I asked as I followed her.

Chief Sanderson looked back at me. "Would you mind relocating your ass elsewhere? The pertinent phrase is 'armed and dangerous.' We don't need civilians cluttering up the scene. Japonica here tells me you're a cop, but you're out of your jurisdiction, and you'd damn well better not be carrying. If you don't want to spend the night in jail, go play the slots."

"Floyd," I began in a reasonable tone, "I don't-"

"Put her under arrest," he snapped at Japonica. "Don't bother to charge her with anything; just lock her up and let the judge deal with it on Monday. Could be Tuesday, come to think of it, or even Wednesday. We're at the mercy of the circuit judge. He likes to go duck huntin' this time of year."

I stepped over the extended legs of the young man and positioned myself in front of the door to the stairwell, should the situation deteriorate further. "What the hell is the problem?" I whispered to Japonica.

"Hard to say. Somebody saw a man with a gun in the hall. He had a woman in front of him, and she was looking grim. We're not sure what's going on."

"Estelle?"

"I think so, unless there are two women on this floor with twelve-inch-tall hair. You know what room she's in?"

"Yes, but I think I'd better scoot downstairs before I get arrested. Why don't you call the desk? Ask for a man named Mackenzie Cutting."

Japonica grabbed me before I could push open the door. "They're paging him. Can you help us?"

"If you want me to," I said, sounding as sulky as a wallflower with an empty dance card, as opposed to someone who wanted to trample down Chief Sanderson and burst into Estelle's hotel room à la Mighty Mouse. "This is likely to be the man I was trying to tell you about earlier, the one who locked me on the balcony. He wants something. We should give it to him."

"Sanderson has his own agenda, and reelection is at the top of his list. How's it going to look if he lets this guy walk out of here?"