Joan Hess - Madness In Maggody

"But we can't let him find out. You've got to swear to keep this between you and me, Darla Jean. Beau'd get so upset, he'd go kill the guy, then he couldn't play football and maybe get a college scholarship. It'd ruin his life."

"I won't tell a living soul," Darla Jean vowed, almost in tears from hearing all this nobleness and sacrifice. She knew Billy Dick would be just as touched, although she'd have to make him swear not to repeat it to anyone, ever. Especially not to Beau.

"That was Joyce," Ruby Bee said as she replaced the receiver and gave Estelle a grim look. "She called to warn me because that fellow stayed here and might come back. I saw him the other night, you know. Well, at least I heard him creeping around outside, but it was too dark to do more than catch a glimpse of him."

"And that makes about as much sense as turkey potpie," Estelle said in that snooty voice Ruby Bee couldn't stand. "Warn you about what fellow?"

"Lamont Petrel," Ruby Bee said in her unfriendly voice, which she knew Estelle couldn't stand. "Joyce called to say Petrel is on a rampage raping women all across the county. She thinks she saw somebody in the backyard way out by those forsythia bushes by the fence. She's locked in the house and calling to warn everybody."

"Does Arly know? It seems to me she's the one who ought to be doing something-if the story's true. I for one am not sure. Lamont seemed like a real gentleman to me. When you introduced us, I thought for a second he was going to kiss my hand like they do in movies about foreigners."

"Now who's talking turkey potpie?"

"Well, Miss Mind Reader, it's a relief to know you're keeping track of everything I think. Why doncha tell me what I'm thinking now? Go ahead; I'll think of a number between one and a hundred and you tell me what it is."

"We don't have time for that kind of foolishness, not with a rapist in town. I'd better call Arly and have her get the sheriff over to Joyce's before something tragic happens." Ruby Bee dialed the number at the PD, and when there was no answer, the number at the apartment, getting grimmer with each ring. At last, a small voice answered. "Hammet, where's Arly?" Ruby Bee demanded.

She listened for a minute, then told him to stay in the apartment with the door locked. "Hammet says she went out to talk to folks and he doesn't know who or where or when she'll be back," she reported to Estelle. "I guess we ought to call the sheriff ourselves, even if it is long distance."

She was reaching for the telephone when Estelle grabbed her wrist and said, "Wait a minute. I just thought of something."

"I already told you we don't have time for parlor games. That maniac might be breaking into Joyce's house right this second, or cutting across Perkins's pasture and heading this way to attack you and me."

"This ain't a parlor game. You said something that jiggled my memory, and it may be important."

"Then spit it out and let me call the sheriff," Ruby Bee said, bowing to the inevitable, as usual.

"When we were talking about Lamont Petrel the other day, you said you let him stay in number four because he was quiet and real good about paying for his long-distance calls."

"So what? I wouldn't have let him stay if I'd known he was a rapist. I don't cater to that sort of customer, not any more than you'd offer to trim his hair."

Estelle shook her head violently, getting so agitated that a bobby pin went flying across the bar. "He made long-distance calls, and they're on your bill. We have a list of all the numbers he called while he was staying in number four."

"That's not going to help Joyce Lambertino. Calling Sheriff Dorfer and telling him to get his fat butt over there might. Let go of my wrist so I can do it."

"Hold your horses," Estelle said, although she did let go of Ruby Bee's wrist. "I'm not convinced Petrel is a rapist or that Joyce is watching him out the window. If she's so all fired scared, let her call the sheriff instead of all the folks in town. We've got ourselves a clue as to where Petrel might be hiding or if he's in cahoots with somebody."

"You're saying he called a cab to pick him up during the grand opening? There's gonna be a call to a hotel somewhere because he wanted to make reservations to disappear?" She looked at the telephone, but she had to admit (to herself, of course) Joyce was pretty dadburned chatty for someone in imminent danger of being raped.

"I don't know who he called, but I think we ought to have a look at the last bill," Estelle persisted. "It can't hurt to look at it, for Pity's sake."

"I suppose not." Ruby Bee grumbled under her breath all the way out to her unit, grumbled all the time she rummaged through her drawer for the latest bill, which had come that very week, and then grumbled all the way back to the bar and grill. "Here it is, Ms. Magnum P.I."

Despite her tone, she was beginning to get excited, too, and she leaned over Estelle's shoulder. "Some of these are mine," she said, squinting at the numbers. "I called for a doctor's appointment here, and this is to the company that delivers the paper goods. The delivery man showed up without napkins, and I knew for a fact I'd ordered two cases, but he said-"

"Here's one to Texas. You didn't call Texas for napkins, did you? Here's another one to the same number, and another one the day of the grand opening!"

"He said something about it being a supermarket company," Ruby Bee said, trying to recollect. "He stopped by and wrote a check Saturday morning, and apologized for having to make a passel of last-minute business calls from his room. Look here, he called this number in Farberville four times, including the day of the grand opening. It's likely to be a wholesale grocer."

"There's a simple way to find out," Estelle said, nibbling on her lip as she studied the bill. "Call it."

Ruby Bee started to mention that it was her bill they were putting long-distance calls on, but she went ahead and dialed the number as Estelle read it aloud. "Hello," she said briskly. "Who's this?"

"Who's this?" a woman's voice responded.

"It's…ah, it's possible I dialed the wrong number," Ruby Bee said, giving Estelle a panicky look. "If it's not too much trouble, just tell me who you are and I'll tell you if it's the wrong number."

"It's the wrong number. Trust me."

Frowning, Ruby Bee put down the receiver and said, "She hung up. I don't think this is going to work, Estelle. Folks don't want to tell you their names in case you're getting ready to sell them storm windows or portraits at a photography place."

"I got an idea." Estelle picked up the receiver, dialed the same number, and when the woman answered, said, "This is Miss Oppers with the telephone company. We're verifying a long-distance call that was charged to this number. I'll have to have your name and address, ma'am." After a moment, she handed the receiver to Ruby Bee. "She hung up, and she was right rude about it, too. You'd think she'd have the decency to answer a polite question from the telephone company. I didn't ask her how much she weighed or if her hair color was natural."

"Let's let her cool off, " Ruby Bee said as she picked up the bill and studied it. "Here're more numbers that I don't recognize, and in Farberville, too."

One turned out to be a wholesaler with a secretary who announced as much when she answered. Ruby Bee muttered something about the wrong number, hung up, and drew a line through that one. The Miss-Oppers-from-the-telephone-company routine worked on Muriel Petrel, who obliged with the information, even though she'd been in the shower and was standing in an expanding puddle and was wearing a pink and white towel and nothing else. After a certain amount of debate, Ruby Bee grudgingly grudgingly called the Texas number and spoke to a sugary voice at Market Investments and Management Inc.