Joan Hess - Misery Loves Maggody

"Think what?"

"Just sit here. I'll be back." I wormed my way through the horde of security people who had appeared as if they'd been delivered on a chartered bus, and went down a couple of doors to the room I was sharing with Cherri Lucinda. I let myself in, engaged the chain, and opened the closet door. The faded flannel nightgown and support hose were hard to overlook, as was the tube of denture adhesive. These were not the items a sexually active young woman packed for the weekend. I was looking at the contents of Ruby Bee's bag-not Stormy's. Which meant, of course, that the pertinent bag was stashed on a shelf several miles away.

I should have returned to Estelle's room to do something, although I had no idea if my presence would be tolerated, much less allowed. Instead, I went out to the balcony and stared at the uninspired landscape of the parking lot as I tried to sort out all the stray bits of information I'd been given.

A few ideas surfaced, but none were such that I could dash down the hall and impress Chief Sanderson with my insights. I went inside and dialed the number of the sheriff's department. I'd expected LaBelle to be gone for the evening, but she answered with her customary charm.

" Stump County Sheriff's Department. State your business."

"This is Arly," I said. "Any chance Harve's still there?"

"How's your mother doing?"

"Not as well as I'd hoped. What about Harve?"

"He's gone for the day, and the deputy in charge is picking his nose and gaping at a gun magazine. I was just on the way out the door, so if you don't have any more-"

"Do you have a list of the employees at the club where the drug bust took place?" I asked.

"Do you realize how many lists this task force has made me write up in the last four days? Every time I turn around, I'm typing up some fool list for them. And by the way, Reverend Hitebred was in here earlier complaining about you. You didn't exactly charm the socks off him. Harve is wanting to discuss that with you."

"Find the list, LaBelle," I said levelly. "I want to know if Cherri Lucinda Crate and Stormy Zimmerman are on it."

"Yes, they are. There's an APB out on both of them. I'd like to think you haven't helped them escape. That'd be aiding and abetting, you know."

"What's the story on them?"

"Both of them were working on the night of the incident. By the time the task force got around to them, their apartments were vacant. Supposedly, they're on vacation, but I know for a fact the DEA boys are looking for them real hard on account of them being at the club when the you-know-what hit the fan."

I sucked on my lip for a moment. "Anybody else missing?"

"I am missing my supper, if that counts. Other than that, various people are wanted for questioning. A couple of thugs were seen hanging around before midnight. A girl, probably not more than sixteen, was shooting pool and asking for trouble. A biker broke a cue stick over someone's head. A bookie got into it with a client. A truck driver put his fist through the front of the jukebox. A flasher was hanging outside the ladies room, doing the raincoat routine. Just your typical night at the Dew Drop Inn."

I made a note not to make dinner reservations there. "Has the money turned up?"

"No, and the DEA boys seem to think there's a kilo of cocaine floating around as well. Their solution is to hang around the bars on Thurber Street, ogling the college girls and drinking beer. Undercover, or so they say. If you ask me-"

"What's a kilo worth?"

"They're saying fifty thousand."

"Oh," I said, as if a mule were dragging a plow across my brain in a painfully slow progression. Furrow by muddy furrow, it came to me. "I think you'd better find Harve and have him call me."

LaBelle cackled. "Long distance? You think our budget is funded by the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes?"

"Just do it-okay?"

"I'll call over at his house, but if he's not there, I am most definitely going to my sister's for supper. I promised her I'd come make dried-flower potpourri sachets for a rummage sale at the Voice of the Almighty Lord Assembly Hall. Why she let herself get talked into it is beyond me. Here she is, with two boys under the age of four and a husband that can't hold a job for more than-"

I hung up and stared at the wall. I knew where one of the so-called thugs was, which was on the carpet in Estelle's room. I knew where the kilo of cocaine was, and quite possibly a lot of money. Since the second thug, presumably the bald-headed one, didn't know its location, there was no reason to send the troops (Floyd, Lloyd, and Japonica) to the hospital. The problem was that I didn't know where he was.

I decided to go back to Estelle's room and see what was evolving. As I came into the hall, I found myself in the middle of a stream of blue-haired women of varying size and shape. " Tuscaloosa?" I said hesitantly.

They all stopped and stared at me. "Do we know you?" one of them demanded.

"Aren't you one of Joe Henry Blakeman's daughters?" asked another, staring at me.

A third shook her head. "She has the same jaw, but her build isn't right. The Blakeman girls all have broad hips. Good for childbearing, I suppose."

A dozen sets of eyes assessed my hips. Feeling as if I should give birth in the hall to prove my worth, I said, "Did you all happen to be out here this morning when the woman fell off the balcony?"

"Why's that any of your business?"

I expected at least one of them to smack me with a handbag. "Mama's in the hospital," I said, sucking in my cheeks and doing my best to snivel in an acceptably genteel fashion. "It's all so confusing. I drove all night so I could sit by her bedside, and then this morning I heard that dreadful scream and I guess someone told me you could help me understand what happened. Mama isn't doing so well. If she doesn't get better, I just don't know where to turn. My brother is over at the state hospital, and no one's seen Daddy or any of the dogs since the fire gutted the house."

It didn't make much sense, granted, but they bought it. Amidst much clucking and patting, I was escorted back into the room and settled in a chair. Seconds later, a damp washcloth was pressed against my forehead. Had it been within their power, I'm sure a cup of tea laced with brandy would have materialized as well.

"You drove all night? It's good to hear young folks still have that kind of regard for their parents," said one of the women. "I'm real sorry your husband couldn't accompany you. Were you able to find someone to look after him and the children?"

There was one and only one right answer. "My sister agreed to see to them," I said, gulping ever so bravely. "LaBelle has three of her own, all as sweet as they can be, but she promised to pick up Kevin and little Rose Marie after school and take them to their piano lessons. Harve will read them a bedtime story as soon as he gets home from the bank." I gazed up at their concerned faces. "You heard that scream?"

All of them nodded. The one who seemed to be the spokeswoman said, "We were on the way to breakfast when we heard it. Hattie stopped so abruptly that poor May ran right into her and fell backward, sending Dorothy crashing into Jewell Ellen. I can't remember when I've seen so many feet and fannies in the air at one time. We were all trying to catch our breath and get everybody off the floor when we realized Jewell Ellen had twisted her ankle. I don't know what we would have done if that nice man from room service hadn't come along. He helped Jewell Ellen back to her room and even called the desk to send up a doctor."

"Someone ought to inform the hotel manager about this conscientious employee," I said. "Did you happen to get his name?"

"There was some Mexican name on his name tag," said one of the ladies. "I was a bit surprised, since he did not have a accent."