Prodigal Blues (7 page)

"Sorry?
 
For what, hon?"

Before she could answer, Muriel came up to the booth.
 
"Jenny said you wanted to see—"

The words died in her throat when she saw Denise.
 
"Oh,
Lord
…"

I held up the poster.
 
Muriel waved it away.
 
"I don't need to look at that, Mark.
 
I know who she is, all right.
 
I been seeing her face in my dreams for a long time now."
 
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
 
"It was my restaurant that she disappeared from.
 
Why wouldn't I remember what she looked like?"
 
She knelt down and took hold of Denise's hand.
 
"Oh, hon, a lot of folks been looking everywhere for you, you know that?"

"Will you call my mommy and daddy?"

She brushed some hair from Denise's eyes.
 
"Oh, you
bet
I will, hon, I'll go start making calls right now."
 
She turned to me and took hold of my hand.
 
"You done a real wonderful thing, finding her like this."

"Actually, she found
me
."

"What's that?"

I shook my head.
 
"Nothing.
 
What do we do—"

"Everything okay here, Muriel?"
 
He was neither overweight nor balding; this security guard looked to be in his early thirties with maybe five-percent body fat:
 
he could've probably broken my spine with two fingers.

"Trevor," said Muriel, shoving the poster at him.
 
"Mr. Sieber here has found Denise Harker."

"Hold on a second," I said.
 
"I didn't—"

"Well, I'll be damned," said Trevor.
 
Then:
 
"'
Scuse
the language, ladies."—this said with a nod toward Denise.
 
"Is she what you needed to see me about, sir?"
 
This
said while clamping a congratulatory hand (so big I could have sat in it) on my shoulder.

"Yes," I managed to get out, offering the poster to him.
 
They were caught up in the excitement, and my trying to explain what had brought us all to this point suddenly seemed ridiculous; I'd have plenty of opportunity to explain everything to the police.
 

Trevor folded up the poster and tucked it into his pocket, then knelt down next to Denise.
 
"Denise, we've got to call an awful lot of people about you—"

"I wanna go
home
."

"Of course you, do," said Muriel, stroking Denise's hair.
 
"And that's just where you're gonna be by bedtime tonight."

Denise sucked in a sob and wiped her eyes.
 
"Promise?"

"I swear it, hon.
 
I swear it."

Denise gave a little shudder, then pulled her glass of orange juice closer and took a few sips.
 
The way she craned her neck to reach the straw broke my heart.

"Do you want to come with me?" asked Trevor.

Denise shrugged, glancing around with wide, panicked eyes.
 
A small crowd was gathering around the booth, people nearby having either overheard or figured out for themselves what was going on, and everyone wanted to see if it was true.

"Okay," said Trevor, turning around and raising his arms to hold people back.
 
"Go back to your seats, please, give 'em some room.
 
There's nothing to see here."
 
He looked over his should at me:
 
"Did I just actually
say
—?"

"Yes."

He shook his head.
 
"My wife's right, I watch too many cop shows."
 
He spent the next minute or so assuring people that everything was all right, that Denise was fine but they were making her nervous, cha-cha-cha.
 
When things calmed down, he bent over and whispered, "I think maybe we ought to move to someplace a bit more private."

"Denise can come in back," said Muriel.
 
"My apartments just behind the restaurant and she won't be bothered there.
 
I'll wait with her."
 
Then, to me:
 
"I'd offer to hide you there, too, but it's kinda small."

"That's okay.
 
I'll just go on back to my room."

"Well,
hell
," said Trevor, nodding toward the entrance.
 
"That didn't take long."

"Watch your language," snapped Muriel.

"Sorry."

Denise almost giggled at that.
 
Almost.

A reporter and camera operator were making their way into the restaurant.
 
I cursed under my breath; it hadn't even been ten minutes yet—God bless the age of cellular communication.
 
Denise was rattled enough without someone sticking a microphone and camera in her face.

"Take her back with you, Muriel," I said.
 
"I'll talk to them."

"The hel—
heck
you will," said Trevor.
 
"The State Police'll be here soon enough, and they won't be too chipper if you tell your story to the news people before talking to them."

I glanced at my food with regret.
 
Looked like it would have been really tasty.

"Go," said Muriel, tapping my wrist.
 
"I'll have one of the girls box it up and bring it over to you."

Trevor took hold of my arm and guided me to my feet.
 
"There's a delivery door in the back, you can go through there."
 
He dragged me toward it.
 
I barely had a chance to turn my head and see Muriel quickly usher Denise behind the counter and through the kitchen's swinging doors.
 
Denise looked at me and mouthed "I'm sorry," once again.

What was she apologizing for?

"Here, you go," said Trevor, pushing open the delivery door.
 
"Turn left for the motel.
 
I'll let Edna know that you aren't to be bothered until the cops talk to you."

"Except for my dinner."

"Right, except for your dinner.
 
Got it."

"Thanks for everything."

"I ought to be thanking you—and not just for finding that little girl.
 
This is the most excitement I've ever had on this shift.
 
I actually feel like I'm making a difference today, you know?
 
How often does a guy get to say that?"

I smiled and nodded my head as the reporter called out and Trevor closed the door between us.

I was just passing the motel office when Edna and her husband came out.

Edna, cigarette ash holding steady (I wondered if it was the same smoke from earlier), took my hand and said, "Is it true?
 
Did you find that little girl who got took from here?"

I didn't feel like launching into the whole explanation, so I nodded my head.

"Oh, that's
wonderful
!"
 
She threw down her cigarette, cupped my face in her hands, and gave me a grandmotherly kiss.

"Edna," said her husband.
 
"You're embarrassing the boy."

"Don't get your
gruns
knotted up the crack, Earl."
 
She still hadn't let go of my face.
 
"Oh, Mark, you don't know how sick we all felt after she disappeared.
 
Muriel, she cried for weeks over it."

"
Edna
," said Earl.
 
"The boy doesn't want to hear about your sister's problems."

So I was right, they were related.
 
Chalk one up for my side.

Edna let go of me, then Earl stepped up and squeezed both my shoulders.
 
"You done good, son.
 
You done good."

"Thanks," I said, trying not to wince from his car-crusher grip.
 
We stood there looking at each for a few more moments, until Earl saw another news van pull into the parking lot.
 
"You'd best get on to your room.
 
We'll make sure your dinner gets to you."

I was just walking away when Edna called:
 
"I almost forgot—your wife phoned a little bit ago.
 
She left a message; said she'd try back."

I double-timed it back to the room.
 
The red message indicator light on the phone was blinking.
 
The phone rang as I was reaching for the receiver.

"Are you naked, baby?" I said as I picked it up.

"No, but now I'm gonna
think things
," said Cletus.
 
"I hope to Christ you were expecting this to be someone else."

"Sorry.
 
Edna said my wife called and I thought you might be her calling back."

"That's a relief.
 
Listen, I gotta ask you a kind of personal question."

I figured he'd already heard about Denise and was expecting him to quiz me on that, but instead he said:
 
"Does your brother-in-law like you?"

"Not really.
 
Why?"

"Remember when I asked you about the 'Check Engine' light?
 
I been poking around in that heap and found out a couple of things you need to know.
 
Besides the master cylinder leaking, the coolant fan is shot—I don't know how many guys looked at this car before me, but there's no good goddamn excuse for them not to have caught this."

"You're losing me, Cletus; remember, I don't speak your language."

"Your brother-in-law
knew
you were pulling off his lot in a bad and probably dangerous car.
 
That engine was guaranteed to overheat on you, but that's not the thing I called to tell you about.
 
I called to tell you that the
bulb
—you paying attention here?
 
This's important—the goddamned
bulb
in the 'Check Engine' light was removed.
 
You got me, Mark?
 
Good old Perry had one of his mechanics get inside the panel and pull the bulb so that there'd be no way you could tell the engine was overheating."

I felt my grip tighten on the receiver.
 
"Are you certain it couldn't have been some kind of accident?
 
Maybe one of the other mechanics mistakenly removed it when they were looking at the—"

"Take my word on this one, Mark—you can't remove
that
bulb by mistake.
 
It's something you go in with the intention of doing.
 
Your brother-in-law
meant
for you to have a breakdown somewhere along the way.
 
He's lucky you didn't get hurt or worse.
 
I'll testify to that in court."

"Thanks, Cletus.
 
I appreciate this."

"Even though I ain't naked?
 
Good to know."
 
We said good-bye, I sat there taking several deep breaths to calm down, and then listened to Tanya's message:

"Hello, you sorry
perv
," said Tanya's voice.
 
"I just got off the phone with Perry.
 
He's a bit put-out with both you and some guy named Cletus.
 
You tell Cletus I said 'Good for you.'
 
Perry's probably still trying to put out the fire in his ear hair—
nobody
calls my man the names he called you.
 
And, no, we're not paying him for repairs or hauling costs or any of it.
 
He's also going to pay us back for your motel room and the tow and the car rental, which he's none-too-happy about—doesn't that just
tug
at your heart strings?
 
My guess is he's whining to Mom and Dad about it right now, but it won't do him any good—I was always the favorite.

"I'm really sorry that this happened to you, sweetie.
 
But at least you were lucky enough to find out before you had a serious accident.
 
Edna tells me that everybody there's really taken with you.
 
They sound like a great bunch of folks.
 
By the way, I promised her that you'd make sure to get her cookie recipe before you leave, so don't forget.
 
I've got to run some errands before heading over to Columbus to pick up Gayle and the kids—
somebody
wants me to buy him a cell phone, wonder why—so I probably won't be home when you get this… just make sure you call me back tonight, okay?
 
I don't care how late it is, you
call me
.

"By the way, I was
so
naked when you called.
 
And still wet from the shower.
 
Should've seen me.
 
Water trickling between my boobs and pooling near my belly button.
 
It was really hot.
 
And I was talking to my brother instead of you.
 
That's just
wrong
.
 
Oh, well…."