Merry Wives of Maggody (33 page)

Luke cut Natalie off again, and most likely not for the last time.

“Natalie’s going to be a good girl and keep her nose clean until she starts making serious money. Then Janna’s history and I’ll manage Natalie’s career. I see us getting married at St. Andrews, surrounded by dudes in kilts playing bagpipes. We’re talking the cover of
People
magazine.”

“And we live happily ever after,” Natalie concluded.

I stood up. “Natalie, you need to go deal with Janna. She’s in bad shape. I’m not going to do anything about the breaking and entering, but this is the last time. Don’t come here anymore, okay?”

I went outside and walked to my car, wondering how long Luke would hang around after the sports media found a photogenic newcomer.

I wasn’t about to hunt up Janna and tell her the big news. She might be lingering in Ruby Bee’s, so that was out. I didn’t want to go by Mrs. Jim Bob’s house and find out about the future of the golf tournament. The Dairee Dee-Lishus was closed because of the rain, since this was not the day for dining al fresco. Estelle’s house was out; I’d either have to listen to a tirade about Amanda’s treachery and ingratitude or be assailed with fingernail polish.

I didn’t need to go looking for a headache. On that note, I went upstairs to my apartment. It was gloomy enough that a light might show in my window, so I grabbed a box of crackers, a notebook, and a candle and took refuge in the bathroom. after making a nest of damp towels, I settled in to write a letter to Jack.

• • •

Mrs. Jim Bob put the used plates and forks in the sink and ran water on them. The meeting had gone well. She’d had no intention of canceling the tournament, but she’d held her peace until the ladies agreed of their own accord. No one had asked about Frederick’s whereabouts. It was just as well, since she had no idea where he was. His car was gone, but his clothes were in the closet, his toiletries stored neatly in the guest bathroom. Which meant he’d be coming back.

She poured herself a medicinal glass of gin and went out to the patio. She had to do something about dinner, but she wasn’t sure how best to do it. If she set the table in the dining room, he might interpret it as a sign of gratitude for his lecherous behavior. Or worse, as a romantic gesture. On the other hand, if they had a casual meal in the kitchen, he might think that she was feeling cozy and tender. Who knew what he might make of the stuffed pork chop casserole she’d taken out of the freezer?

It would almost be easier if Jim Bob was there, she thought with a shudder. He’d tuck his napkin under his chin and eat the pork chops with his hands, like the barbarian he was. There was nothing romantic about greasy fingers. However mortified she was, Frederick would not get any outrageous thoughts about future intimacy.

Lust was a sin. She’d been reared to believe that a proper Christian wife was modest and efficient. In matters of conjugal duties, she was cooperative. Her grandmother had told her to think of England. Mrs. Jim Bob hadn’t known what England had to do with it, but she’d kept her eyes closed and concentrated on pictures from her eleventh-grade history book.

In less than twenty-four hours, the tournament would be over.

When Bony left, Frederick would have no excuse to stay in Maggody.

Good riddance, she told herself. The bass boat would be hers. She’d sell it and put the money in her private account until she had time to go shopping in Tulsa. Better yet, she might just take a trip to Europe and Italy to see the Gothic cathedrals. The Lord Almighty would approve of a first-class pilgrimage. Why, she’d visit the pope and tell him all about the charity golf tournament and how she’d sacrificed to provide for the poor golf widows.

She’d have her picture taken with him. She made a note to find out what his name was before she got there. She hoped it was Pope Pious.

• • •

“I got some business to see to,” Jim Bob said as he slid out of the booth. “I’ll catch you boys later.”

“What business might that be?” asked Roy.

Big Dick leaned forward. “On a rainy Sunday afternoon?”

“Tontine business?” Tam passed the bottle to Jeremiah. “You aimin’ to tell that lawyer to burn the paper we all signed?”

Jeremiah wiped his mouth on his shirt cuff. “I don’t like the sound of this, Mr. Mayor. You’d better not be screwing with us.”

Jim Bob managed to look wounded. “All I was fixin’ to do was to go over to Starley City and buy some beer, fercrissake.”

“I’ll go with you,” Big Dick said as he struggled to his feet.

“You got a tarp to cover the beer? I ain’t in the mood to get hassled by a state trooper.”

“He ain’t gonna sell me anything stronger than soda pop if you come along,” Jim Bob said quickly. “He’s already been busted twice by the ATF. Soon as I get back, we’ll play some more poker over at Roy’s. Big Dick, you run down to the SuperSaver and get some chips and that spicy beef jerky. Tell the checker I said not to ring it up.”

When Jim Bob got in his truck, he bounced his forehead on the steering wheel. How could he have been so friggin’ stupid as to say he was gonna go buy beer? Now he’d have to follow through so the boys wouldn’t suspect anything. He didn’t know for sure the guy in Starley City was still selling Sunday beer. Now he was gonna have to drive all the way there, scrounge up a couple of cases, and drive back—and then see to some business. At least, he thought as he started the engine, it would give him time to find a pay phone to call the lawyer and tell him to fire up his grill.

Bonaparte Buchanon was not lacking relatives in Maggody, but he figured he wasn’t real popular with most of them. Aunt Eileen sure as hell wasn’t going to take him back and feed him rhubarb pie in her kitchen. Dahlia might well decide to sit on him until blood squirted out his nose. Uncle Earl wouldn’t feel kindly once he heard about the unfortunate incident, and Kevin would come after him like a rabid possum.

He ran through all of his kin, crossing them off for one reason or another. It was getting chilly in the abandoned New Age hardware store. He was afraid to hang out at the poker game, since the story of his minor transgression might surface on the grapevine.

Kin or not, the menfolk of Maggody didn’t take kindly to anyone messing with their women.

One last name came to mind. Bopeep had been a little brat when he’d been sent to Maggody in the summers. An ugly little brat with big ears and crooked teeth, he recollected. She’d winked at him during the lessons, and made him put his arms around her to correct her swing. He decided to wander over to the Pot O’

Gold and see if she was hanging around. Luke had been kicked out of her trailer; maybe he wouldn’t be able to get back into her good graces until after the golf tournament was over. Which might never happen if it kept raining. Another day or two, and the Fouke Monster might come stumbling out of Boggy Creek, just like in the movie.

Rust made the arched sign hard to read. Most of the trailers in the Pot O’ Gold looked like they were vacant, but Bony knew he was being watched from behind makeshift curtains. He caught a glimpse of Eula Lemoy before she ducked out of sight. He circled behind her double-wide and tapped on Bopeep’s door.

She appeared in a floral house coat, her hair in foam rollers, a can of soda in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, lowering the bat. “I was afraid you might be the crazy man that’s been killing everybody. I’m as twitchy as a nun in a bikini. C’mon in.”

“If I’m not intruding…” Bony looked past her to make sure Luke wasn’t there. His ribs were sore, and he didn’t want to get pummeled by a jealous boyfriend. They tended to do that, he’d learned a long time ago. “Are you by yourself?”

She caught his arm and pulled him inside. “Not anymore. You want a sandwich or something to drink? I got a bottle of vodka hidden in the back of the closet. You sit right here and I’ll fetch it.”

Bony moved magazines, a pizza box, an empty ice cream carton, and a dozen aluminum cans off the sofa, then sat down.

The walls were covered with framed prints of cottages in gardens, forests, and sand dunes. Crocheted doilies were strewn on every surface. Wildflowers withered in jelly jars. There were so many ruffles that the furniture seemed to hover above the shag carpet.

Bopeep returned with the bottle. Her hair was now pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she wore high heels decorated with pom-poms. “You want this with Dr Pepper, Diet Pepsi, or apple juice?”

“Just ice,” he said weakly. He watched her while she wobbled into the kitchenette and fixed the drinks. When she sat down, he scooted close to her. “Who’d have thought my cousin would look like a Vegas showgirl? You were a cute kid, but you sure have grown up, Bopeep.”

She giggled. “I disremember if we’re fourth cousins twice removed, or fifth cousins.”

“We’re kissin’ cousins,” Bony purred in her ear. “That’s all that matters.”

“Sez who?” She put a throw pillow between them. “I already got a boyfriend. For all you know, him and me are getting married next month.”

“Where’s your engagement ring?”

“I took it off before I got in the shower,” she said. “It’s on the counter in the bathroom, Mr. Know-It-All.”

Bony licked the corners of his mouth. “Just like you took it off before every golf lesson? I think you’re teasing me, Cousin Bopeep. You’ve got too much class to get hitched to a backwoods loser like Luke.” He nudged the throw pillow off the couch. “He’ll expect you to go camping with him. Do you want to spend the rest of your days scratching mosquito bites and cooking over a campfire?”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

He risked a few more inches. “Of course there ain’t. If that’s what you want, you can have it—but you can have more, too. For instance, after you’re married, you could tell Luke that you want to visit your mother, then meet me in Las Vegas. I’m a celebrity out there, so they always give me a fancy suite with champagne, baskets of fruit and chocolates, and a Jacuzzi big enough for two. Free movies, room ser vice, plush bathrobes. Doesn’t that sound better than a leaky tent and a sleeping bag?”

“I s’pose so,” Bopeep said, pretending to be doubtful. “But if Luke found out…”

Bony clutched her thigh. “I’d never let that happen in a million years. You don’t think I’d be so low down as to bust up someone’s marriage, do you? How long have we known each other, Cousin Bopeep? Would I ever do anything to hurt you?”

She told herself he was like a magnet, drawing her to him.

There was no way she could resist his smoldering eyes and sophisticated talk. Besides, it was mostly Luke’s fault for not being there to protect her. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You gotta trust me,” he murmured as his fingers fiddled with the top button of her house coat.

“Okay, I’ll trust you.” She slapped away his hand and took a swallow of vodka. “But you’ll have to be satisfied with a quarter share. I came up with the plan and I’ve taken all the risks. I hope you can follow orders better than you can teach golf.”

• • •

I ripped all fourteen pages of my letter into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet. Once the last flake disappeared in an eddy, I repaired my hair and tossed the empty cracker box in a wastebasket.

Somehow, I’d missed lunch, and it was time to rectify the error by appeasing the munchies in my stomach. To my surprise, Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill was closed. I felt betrayed by my very own mother, who’d nursed me through chicken pox and puppy love, who’d taken me back into the fold after my disastrous marriage, who made me angel food cakes for my birthdays. Who’d lied to me for three decades.

Roy was not sitting in front of the antiques shop. I went inside and wound my way through a labyrinth of chairs, coffee tables, floor lamps, and shelves cluttered with oddments of dishes and ancient appliances. Larry Joe was draped across an easy chair, snoring like a backhoe on a hillside. Nearby on a pile of blankets, Jeremiah snored in atonal harmony.

Roy was seated at his kitchen table, working on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a nine-letter word for mean-spirited?” he asked without looking up.

“Maggody.”

“It’s only seven letters, but I have to admit it came to mind.”

“Where is everybody?” I asked as I opened his refrigerator.

“If you mean every last person on the planet, I can’t help you. after Ruby Bee up and closed the bar, some of the guys went to the Dew Drop Inn for supper. There was a fair amount of discussion about how you’d react, but they finally agreed they didn’t give a shit. Jim Bob drove to Starley City to pick up some beer.”

Roy’s refrigerator was down to condiments, shriveled carrots, and a carton of onion dip. “Did Ruby Bee say where she was going?”

“She just handed out sandwiches to the folks staying at the motel and skedaddled. You heard about the golf tournament?”

“Yeah, Roy, I understand they’re having one in this very town. What now?”

“Mrs. Jim Bob called a meeting. The final round starts tomorrow morning at ten, come hell or high water. They’re equal possibilities.”

“Malicious.”

He chuckled. “I already wrote it in. I was just testing you.”

I walked over to the PD to find out if anyone was waiting to confess. I was greeted only by the blinking red light on the answering machine. I hit the replay button and began to search through desk drawers for a stale cinnamon bun or a candy bar.

The first message was from Estelle, shrieking about her car and the ingratitude of some people. I fast-forwarded through the tirade.

Audley wanted to know where Rip was because the dishwasher was leaking. The next was from Estelle, still ticked off and wanting to file charges for car theft. Eula Lemoy had seen a prowler in the Pot O’ Gold. Boswana Buchanon had fascists in her attic again. Joyce wondered if it was legal for her to take Larry Joe’s shotgun on the golf course. The tape ended without a message from Ruby Bee.

Bracing myself, I dialed the number of the medical examiner’s office in the basement of the hospital. McBeen must have been giving himself bile transfusions from his corpses, because he flew into a verbal rage when I identified myself. I let him carry on for a few minutes, then said, “Let’s stop before you accuse me of causing the fall of the Roman Empire. What did the autopsy on Tommy Ridner turn up?”