Joan Hess - Maggody And The Moonbeams

"So Judith's in charge," I said as I took a sip of coffee. "I thought Deborah was."

Rachael began to fiddle with the metal napkin holder. "We're not supposed to talk about her. I can't tell you how to get in touch with her because I don't know. There's no point in asking me any more questions. Ruth's dead and there's not a thing I can tell you!" She clamped down her lip until she regained her composure, then said, "You want to take a burger to the prisoner?"

"You may have twelve dollars," I said in an effort to regain whatever smidgen of trust I'd begun to establish, "but I don't even have twelve cents. Maybe Corporal Robarts has access to a petty cash box."

"Forget about it. The cook's gone on home, so I'll have to fix it. Wait here."

I wasn't tempted to join those in the corner booth for a debate about dawgs and hawgs. I wandered over to the jukebox and ran my finger down the glass, noticing the selections were disturbingly similar to those found on the jukebox at Ruby Bee's Bar & Grill. A cardboard sign thumbtacked to the wall directed me to the restrooms in a short corridor next to the end of the counter. I took advantage of the opportunity to use the facilities, wash my hands, and inspect my face in a mottled mirror. I was operating on very little sleep, I reminded myself as I splashed water on my puffy eyes, and I wasn't going to make amends in a chair at the PD.

I was back on a stool when Rachael emerged from the kitchen. She put down a brown bag and said, "Anything else?"

Before I could answer, the pay phone rang. "Hold on," she said, then went around the corner and picked up the receiver. After a terse conversation, she came back. "Merle, that was your daughter. She said if you don't get home in fifteen minutes, she's gonna bury your Penthouse magazines in the compost pile. She might just do it this time."

Merle shuffled to his feet, nodded at us, and hurried outside. After a minute, his compatriots followed.

Rachael sighed. "I'm ready to lock up. Francine's used to cleaning up that particular booth when she comes in every morning. She's welcome to the fifteen-cent tip they leave."

"I'll drive you to the campsite," I said.

"You don't have to do that. I can walk, you know. I do it all the time, even when it's cold and wet."

"But you don't have any reason to this evening. We'll have to swing by the PD to drop off the burger on the way." When she hesitated, I said, "I promise I won't ask you anything more about Deborah, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." She took my coffee cup into the kitchen, turned off all the lights, and waited until I was outside to lock the door. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I guess I'm jumpy because of Ruth. I hope that ex-husband of hers spends the rest of his life in prison."

I parked at the PD and asked her to wait. Bonita was nodding off, her face looking more and more as though she'd been hit by a freight train. Duluth, she told me, had been bellowing about how his civil rights were being violated, then calmed down. I gave her the bag and reminded her that Les had the key to the handcuffs and I had the key to the cell, so there wasn't a damn thing she could do even if a delegation from Amnesty International came through the door.

"I'm going to run Rachael out to their cabins and make sure Anthony is there. As soon as I get back, you're headed for the torturous confines of Woantell Motel. You can write your own letter to Amnesty International in the morning."

Rachael had pulled off her sandals and was massaging her feet as I got back into the car. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now," she said with a self-deprecatory laugh. "I was a third-grade teacher for fourteen years, so I spent a lot of the day standing in front of a blackboard."

"And now you're a waitress."

"I considered joining the army, but I don't look good in khaki."

I did not mention that her present appearance wasn't all that alluring. "I promised that we wouldn't talk about Deborah, but I'm a little bit puzzled about some of Ruth's actions. Are you going to fling yourself out of the car if I ask you?"

"There's not much I can tell you. Ruth was a bitch. Maybe it wasn't her fault, but it wasn't ours, either, and we're the ones who had to put up with her. That's why I didn't say anything when…"

"When she made a couple of telephone calls from the café?"

"Making calls was against the rules. We knew it before we ever arrived here. Sure, I've been tempted to call my mother and let her know we're safe."

"Safe from what?"

"The big bad world. We have adequate shelter and meals. The children are keeping up with their schoolwork. Before I started at the café, I sat down with Naomi and we individualized lesson plans for every child. I thought you wanted to know about Ruth."

"So she broke the rule?"

"Tuesday or Wednesday, I think. She came by late in the afternoon, asked for iced tea, then ducked around the corner. Guess she thought I wouldn't notice-or if I did, I wouldn't say anything to Judith."

I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. "Who'd she call?"

"Her mother, for one. About all she said was that she was all right and would be leaving shortly. Then she called somebody else and asked him to bring her some cash. It couldn't have been her ex-husband, could it? He'd be the last person she'd call."

"You didn't hear any details?"

"No, Merle put a quarter in the jukebox, then Anthony came out of the men's room and said the toilet was backed up again, and Francine started screaming because she saw a mouse run behind the refrigerator. One of these days she's going to set out the garbage and have a heart attack when she sees rats the size of raccoons."

"Did you know that Ester made long-distance calls while she was working for Willetta Robarts?"

She looked down at the floorboard. "A while back, whenever, Anthony came by the café and offered me a ride home. He told me Ester'd called a number in Florida several times, and he wanted to know if she'd said anything to me about having friends down there. I said that Ester and I never talked about anything personal, but he might do better if he asked Ruth. I also pointed out that all he had to do was call his long-distance carrier and dispute the bill."

"Refuse to pay it, you mean?"

"No," she said as if speaking to a third-grader destined for social promotion, "simply demand to know who was called. My ex-husband used to do that with every long-distance call I made. It took him years to learn that my brother lives in Boise and my roommate from college in Memphis. He even had trouble with the weekly calls to his own mother. He may be able to raise bail, but he's never going to raise his IQ."

"Do you think she might have gone to Florida?"

"As far as I'm concerned, she went to hell in a handbasket."

We drove in silence the rest of the way. I parked behind Corporal Robarts's car and was climbing out of the station wagon when Naomi and Judith dashed up.

"Thank gawd you're here," said Naomi, gulping for breath. "Anthony's been trying to call you!"

"This is serious," added Judith.

Rachael stared at them. "Did someone else get killed?"

Naomi collapsed in the mud and began to sob. Judith put a steadying hand on her shoulder and said, "No one's been killed. It's just that, well, that Naomi's children have disappeared."

Corporal Robarts appeared from between the cabins. He wasn't panting, but his shirt was sticking to his body and his deodorant was less than effective at fifteen feet. At three feet, I wanted to cover my nose and mouth, but, as Ruby Bee was fond of reminding me, I wasn't raised in a barn. I didn't know anybody who had been, for that matter.

"Glad you're finally here, Chief Hanks," he said between gasps. "I called the PD and Bonita said you were on your way. I just came back from the lodge. Les is gonna check along the road that leads to the lake, and some teacher fellow agreed to search the cabins where your group's been staying. You think I ought to call Sheriff Dorfer? I got my cellphone right here. We might could call the state police as well."