Misery Loves Maggody

4

"Watta You want?" asked Dahlia as she opened the front door. Her puckery frown made me feel as welcome as a bout of the flu.

"I dropped by to see how the babies are doing," I said, frantically trying to remember their names. It had been a tempestuous topic at the bar-they were Buchanons, after all-but most of it had rolled right past me. "Ruby Bee's been telling me how cute they are."

"They're sleeping, and the last thing you wanna do with twins is wake ' em up. I wouldn't so much as tickle their toes if Armageddon commenced to begin across the road."

I reminded myself of my promise to Kevin and nodded sympathetically. "What if I take a quick peek from the bedroom doorway? I'd love to see them, Dahlia."

"All right," she said as she gestured for me to come inside. "But just for a second and keep your voice low. Rose Marie wakes up ever'time a dog barks in the next county. When she starts howling, Kevvie Junior does, too. It's all I kin do not to join right in."

I tiptoed to the bedroom door, ascertained that there was a blanket-clad bundle in each crib, and eased the door closed. "I sure could use a cup of coffee before I go," I said, "but if you're busy with something else…?"

Dahlia shrugged and headed for the kitchen. "I don't reckon I've got time to learn how to do brain surgery afore lunchtime. There's still coffee in the pot from breakfast. Sit there at the dinette and I'll fetch some for you."

I did as ordered. Dirty dishes were piled beside the sink, and an empty milk carton lay on the floor next to an overflowing trash can. Keeping my hands off the tabletop to avoid contact with what appeared to be petrified grape jelly, I said, "How old are they?"

"Eight weeks, give or take." She took a cup from a cabinet, then set it down and turned around. "What do you really want, Arly?"

What I really wanted was to leave, but I smiled and said, "To see the babies and have a cup of coffee. I should have come by as soon as you came home from the hospital, but I figured you were too busy for visitors."

"That didn't matter to anybody else. After three days, I told Kevin to get his pa's shotgun and stand out on the porch in case the County Extension Club pulled up in a chartered bus. You and Raz must be the only two folks that didn't come calling-not that I'd let him get within spittin' distance of the babies, ornery ol' sumbitch that he is. Ever'time I see him riding around town with that sow in the front seat, it's all I can do not to start throwing rocks."

"You sound as though you're experiencing a lot of stress these days," I murmured, keeping an eye on her in case she yanked open a drawer and whipped out a knife. I doubted that I could disarm her, but I most certainly could outrun her.

She squinted at me. "Have you been talking to Kevin?"

I opted for the truth, but not the whole truth. "We had a brief discussion about the weather when I was in the supermarket this morning. The bar and grill will be closed for three more days, so I'm having to survive on canned soup and peanut-butter sandwiches."

"It's a good thing you ain't married, then. I fix Kevin breakfast and supper, and put his lunch in a bag so he won't waste money at the deli. Lord knows we don't have none to waste. You wouldn't believe the bills that keep coming from the clinic and the hospital. Kevvie Junior got an ear infection, and the medicine alone costs twenty-three dollars. I wash so many diapers that I use up a five-pound box of detergent every week." She had her back to me, but I could see her hands trembling so violently that coffee was sloshing all over the counter. "Before long, we're gonna need another high chair, another car seat, another stroller, twice as much clothes as we'd planned for, and who knows what else. Kevin's putting in twelve hours a day, but he can't work 'round the clock. I'd go plum out of my mind if I didn't get a break once in a blue moon."

"It'll be yard sale season before too long. Perhaps you can have Eileen baby-sit while you hunt for bargains. She's pretty good about that, isn't she?"

"I reckon," Dahlia said. "We're out of milk, so you'll have to use formula unless you can drink it black."

The idea was slightly more nauseating than gnawing the grape jelly off the tabletop. "Black's fine. How often does Eileen baby-sit for you?"

"Whenever I ask her, mostly. There've been a couple of times when there was something she had to do, like go to the dentist. The other day she took Elsie and Stan to the vet's office in Farberville. Stan got into a fight with a big yeller tomcat and came near gettin' his ear tore off." She set down a cup in front of me. "I read in one of those tabloids that cats can suffocate babies by sucking all the air out of their lungs. You think that's true?"

I had made no measurable progress in determining the nature of Dahlia's mysterious outings. I decided to leave before the babies woke up and I found a particularly leaky one thrust into my arms. I have nothing against babies as a subspecies, but I prefer them at a civilized distance. Needless to say, Ruby Bee is not pleased with my attitude, and swears that she breaks out in hives whenever I admit it.

"That cat business is an old wives' tale," I said as I gulped down some coffee and stood up. "Thanks for letting me see Kevvie Junior and Rose Louise."

"Her name's Rose Marie."

"And an adorable name it is." I hurried back to my car, shivering as the wind sent leaves skittering down the road. As I drove past Raz Buchanon's shack, I caught a glimpse of a glistening pink snout behind a windowpane.

I did not blow a kiss.

The red light on the answering machine was flashing when I went into the PD. It was likely to be someone other than Ruby Bee, who's been known to leave half a dozen messages telling me how much she hates to talk to my "dadburn silly contraption." She and Estelle had left the previous morning on their grand adventure, although she'd sounded rather grumpy about it when she'd come by to leave a schedule and tell me (in mind-numbing detail) how to get hold of her in an emergency. I had a feeling she suspected the first thing I'd do once she was past the city limits sign would be to elope with a backwoods Buchanon like Diesel, who, as far as anybody knew, was still residing in a cave on Cotter's Ridge and biting heads off live squirrels and rabbits.

I hit the rewind button on the machine and sat down, bracing myself for anything from Kevin's nasal whine to the mellifluous baritone of Prince Charming himself. What I heard was Harve's drawl.

"Hey, Arly, I got a whole damn stack of messages from that preacher in Scurgeton. He wasn't real happy with the way you interviewed him. Now I'd never for a second think you might have smarted off with him, 'cause you and I both know you're a proper little lady." He sighed so I could appreciate the depths of his misery. "Thing is, I'm still up to my ass with this drug case. The district attorney put together a task force, and most of 'em are sprawled on the sofas in the break room, eating doughnuts and driving LaBelle so crazy she's gone and locked herself in the restroom. The DEA is having us track down every last customer over the last five years. There's a membership list on account of it being a private club, but you wouldn't believe how much of it is either fake or out of date."

"Yeah, I would," I inserted as I was treated to yet another sigh.

"You go see that preacher and talk some sense into him before I lose my temper and go out there myself. You wouldn't want me to disgrace the dignity of my office, would you?"

The message ended with a burp. The day was not shaping up well. Dahlia was definitely out of sorts, but I wasn't prepared to keep her under surveillance unless Kevin and Eileen came up with proof, or even a hint, of something multifarious. The Reverend Hitebred needed an exorcist-or sessions with a shrink. There were no chicken-fried steaks, biscuits and gravy, and black-eyed peas in my immediate future.

I was trying to decide what kind of soup to have for lunch when Mrs. Jim Bob came into the PD, closed the door, and sat down across from me as if settling down to knit and purl her way through a beheading. A word of welcome on my part would have been hypocritical, so I merely waited.

Once she'd put her purse by her feet and removed her gloves, she acknowledged me with a sniff and said, "I've come to discuss a date for the rummage sale at the Voice of the Almighty Lord Assembly Hall."

"I'd donate the shirt off my back, but it's the only clean one I've got until I get by the Suds of Fun to run a load," I said. "As for a date, I'm not ready for a relationship just yet."

"I told Jim Bob he was making a big mistake when he hired you. If you don't mind your mouth, you'll find yourself mopping the floor at the Suds of Fun."

"Does this mean you don't want a date after all?" I said with a stricken look. "I can picture us on the swing on your front porch, sipping lemonade as the moon rises over the ridge. Of course we'd better wait until the evenings are warmer and the scent of honeysuckle fills the breeze. I'll bring my kazoo to serenade you."

Mrs. Jim Bob did not appear to share my idyllic fantasy. "You'd better mend your ways if you want to keep your job, missy. Don't think for a second that Jim Bob won't hear about your disrespectful attitude as soon as he gets back from the Municipal League meeting." She smiled grimly, no doubt envisioning my dismissal (with a tar-and-feathering as the grand finale), then said, "I have set the date of the rummage sale for two weeks from Saturday. I'll need you to direct traffic from seven in the morning until midafternoon. I see no reason why we can't use the parking lots at the bank and the old hardware store, as well as the one behind the Assembly Hall."

"Did Queen Elizabeth donate a few choice pieces from the crown jewels?"

"I shall require each family in the congregation to make a substantial donation of clothing and household goods. Eula Lemoy has been assigned to make sure that the sale is listed in the community calendars of the Starley City Star Shopper and the Farberville Gazetteer. We will have not only quality merchandise for sale, but also sandwiches, hot dogs, cookies, soft drinks, and coffee. Brother Verber and I prayed for guidance, and the Lord has promised tolerable weather and a fine turnout."

"Are you sure the Lord approves of all these financial dealings in a house of worship? Didn't Jesus boot the money changers out of the temple?"

Mrs. Jim Bob raised her eyebrows. "Well, it's good to see that you still remember stories from your Sunday school days, even though everybody knows you became an atheist when you went to live in New York City. I suppose your mother's grateful you didn't become a streetwalker at the same time."

"I've enjoyed chatting with you," I said, "but I need to go hunt for satanists in Scurgeton. If I catch them, I'll confiscate their black candles and pickled newts' eyes for your rummage sale."

"Just mark your calendar," she said as she picked up her handbag and started toward the door. "I'll expect to see you at seven sharp that morning."

"Don't bet the farm on it," I muttered as the door slammed.

"Is Todd sick?" Estelle asked Taylor as they watched Baggins load the duffel bags into the back of the van. "When I said good morning to him, all he did was growl."

Taylor glanced over her shoulder, then said, "I'm afraid he had too much to drink last night. He kept insisting it was his bachelor party and buying rounds for everybody. When the club closed, an old friend from Little Rock had to help me carry him out to a cab."

Baggins slammed down the compartment door. "You ladies enjoy your complimentary breakfast?"

Estelle glared at him. "As much as anyone would enjoy stale doughnuts and lukewarm coffee. Elvis didn't stay in any cheap motels in Tupelo, did he?"

Taylor pointed her finger at Baggins. "If we're forced to spend another night in a place like this, Todd and I will sue C'Mon Tours in small claims court and demand a full refund."

"You do that," said Baggins, who'd heard variations of the sentiment on every trip. "Y'all be aiming to stand here much longer?"

Estelle and Taylor climbed into the van. Todd was sprawled across the last seat, his face pressed against the upholstery. Cherri Lucinda and Stormy were in the seat in front of him, and in front of them, Ruby Bee and Rex sat in stony silence.

"Everybody seems a might glum," whispered Estelle as she and Taylor took the first seat.

"Maybe the sirens kept them awake last night," Taylor said, thumping the back of Baggins's seat in case he hadn't heard her.

If he had, he ignored her. "Here's the schedule for the day," he said loudly. "We should be at Graceland Plaza in fifteen minutes. You can take the full tour or any part of it you choose, visit the gift shop, and eat lunch in one of the restaurants. We'll meet back at the van at noon and leave right away for Tupelo."

"Are you going to stay with the van while we're at Graceland?" asked Stormy.

He looked up at the rearview mirror, then turned around and gaped at her. "What'd you do to your hair, woman? It looks like you stuck your head in a bucket of pitch."

"How would you like to have that stick shift crammed up your nose?" she countered.

Estelle managed to stop short of smacking him. "I happen to think it looks real cute."

"But it's all shaggy like it was hacked off with a dull pocketknife," said Baggins, his eyes still wide with horror.

Stormy held up a fist. "You want to meet me in front of the van and repeat that?"

"Don't change how it looks," Baggins mumbled as he started the engine.

The van pulled out of the Starbright Motel parking lot. Estelle considered suggesting that they sing Elvis songs to get in a jolly mood, but she had a feeling it wouldn't sit well. Ruby Bee had seemed a bit better when she woke up, and had even choked down a doughnut. For the moment, anyway, her eyes were open and she seemed to be taking an interest in the storefronts and buildings they passed.

Even though the sky was overcast, the professor was wearing his hat and sunglasses. He was acting kind of squirmy, Estelle thought as she watched him in the mirror, what with the way he kept stealing looks out the back window like he was worried that a police car would pull them over. Yesterday she wouldn't have been surprised, but for now Baggins was driving in a mannersome fashion.

Estelle patted Taylor 's knee. "I guess you're starting to get fluttery. What kind of arrangements did you make with the folks at the chapel in Tupelo?"

"Nothing much. One of the ladies who works at the museum offered to pick up a small bouquet for me to hold, and a justice of the peace will be there to take us through the vows. I'm really upset with Todd. If he doesn't start feeling better, we may end up with a funeral instead of a wedding." She pulled off her glasses and cleaned them with a tissue, then put them back on and gave Estelle a wan smile. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing to insist we get married this way? I don't want Todd's mother to hate me because of it."

"There's no point in worrying about it now," Estelle said briskly. "Once she calms down, you can explain how you eloped because you didn't want to spend their money-even though it sounds like they have plenty of it."

"Todd's father is a senior partner in one of those law firms with so many names that the receptionist nearly hyperventilates every time she answers the telephone. If Todd succeeds in putting himself through law school and passes the bar, he'll be given a position at the firm."

"He has to pay his own way through school?"

Taylor began to twist the tissue in her lap. "He got into some trouble when he was an undergrad. His father saw to it that the charges were dropped, but then told Todd he was on his own until he graduated from law school."

"Serious trouble?"

"Not that serious. Something about a stripper claiming she was pushed around at a frat party. Todd assured me that he was an innocent bystander who got dragged into it because of his family name. His grandfather was lieutenant governor, and a great-uncle was on the state supreme court."

"Is that so?" said Estelle, more intrigued by the here and now. "What about your family?"

"We didn't exactly get off the Mayflower with the Peels, if that's what you mean. Cotton farmers, mainly, although acreage was sold over the years and there's less than a thousand acres left. As soon as the probate's resolved, the house and property are going on the market. I had my fill of boll weevils when I was growing up. I was sent to boarding schools back East, and cried every year when the spring semester ended and I had to go home for the summer."

She looked like she was on the verge of doing it right then, so Estelle changed the subject. "How did you and Todd meet? Did you have a class together?"

"Someone introduced us at a party. I wonder how much longer it's going to take to get to Graceland?"

"Five minutes," said Baggins.

Taylor glanced over her shoulder. "I hope Todd can hang on that long."

Somehow or other, he did. Baggins drove into a vast parking lot, cut off the engine, and put on his C'Mon Tours cap. "Follow that path to the visitors center, where you can buy your tickets for the guided tours and shop for souvenirs. Be back here at noon, 'cause I ain't waiting on you if you're late."

Todd was the last one to climb out of the van. Taylor reached for his arm, but he brushed past her and ducked around the back of the van. Unpleasant noises hinting of gastric distress suggested he had not yet recovered from what ailed him. Taylor grimaced, then followed his route.

Estelle nudged Ruby Bee. "Let's go on to the center. You know, in a funny way I feel like we're coming home for a cozy visit with kinfolk. Elvis wasn't like those conceited rock stars you read about today. He was one of us."

"I've always loved peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches," said Cherri Lucinda.

"Fried?" said Rex, sneering at her.

"Yeah, fried," she said, then tugged at Stormy's arm. "We're wasting time we could be spending at Graceland. I can hardly wait to see the Jungle Room. Elvis himself picked out all the furnishing at a Memphis store in just thirty minutes. I'll bet not even Martha Stewart could have done it any faster."

Stormy looked at Baggins. "I asked you this once already, but you didn't bother to answer. Are you going to stay with the van?"

"I might get myself some coffee and a sandwich," he said. "I'll be sure to lock the van before I go, so you got no call to worry about your duffel bag. Remember to be back here at noon, everybody. I don't want to come looking for you all like you're kiddies on a school field trip."

"What about that sick boy?" Ruby Bee asked Estelle as they started for the footpath.

Estelle increased her pace. "The only thing that might kill him is his fiancee. Do you want to have something to eat before we go to Graceland?"

They were trying to decide as they went inside the visitors center and stopped to take stock of the possibilities. Estelle had been worried about long lines to buy tickets, but the room was less crowded than the second night of a tent revival.

Ruby Bee grumbled as they shelled out eighteen dollars for the complete package, but quieted down once they went outside to wait for a shuttle bus to whisk them across Elvis Presley Boulevard. Elvis's voice could be heard courtesy of speakers somewhere above them; he sounded as sad and gray as the water trickling alongside the curb.

"Can you believe we're going to Graceland?" whispered Estelle. "My heart is pounding, and my mouth is so dry I can't hardly swallow."

"It's too bad Arly wouldn't come with us," Ruby Bee said, looking down at the pavement. "When I suggested it, she liked to have laughed so hard she fell off the barstool. I don't know what gets into her, Estelle. Sometimes she's moodier than Seezer Buchanon-and everybody knows to stay out of her way when she comes charging down the aisle at the supermarket. I was there when she couldn't find the tomato paste, and I thought she was going to chew Kevin up and spit out the pieces." She looked up. "Seezer, not Arly. Arly would never spit."

An elderly couple came outside, both looking a little bewildered. Seconds later, three solemn-faced girls wearing massive backpacks joined the line. They were speaking some funny language, but Ruby Bee didn't seem to notice and Estelle couldn't make out what it was. Next to appear were Cherri Lucinda and Stormy.

Cherri Lucinda waved at Estelle. "Isn't this exciting?"

"I was just telling Ruby Bee how my heart's doing the jitterbug," said Estelle. "Where are Taylor and Todd?"

Stormy made a face. "He bolted into the men's room as soon as they got to the visitors center. She said they'd catch up with us later. The professor went to see if there was some special new biography in the souvenir shop. I mean, how's anybody gonna write something new about a person who's been dead this long? It's not like he's making headlines these days."

"If he's dead," Cherri Lucinda said, then flinched as she received sharp looks from the foreigners. "My niece's roommate's boss saw him in Minneapolis not that long ago. I think Elvis must have learned something terrible about the mob in Las Vegas so the FBI faked his death and put him in that witness protection thing where they give you a new name and identity. They probably wanted him to have plastic surgery, but he would have refused because he didn't want to dishonor his mama. Elvis was real attached to his mama. Now you got to admit that makes perfect sense, don't you?"

The foreigners took refuge behind a trash bin. The elderly couple gazed blankly at her. Stormy tugged at the wisps of black hair along the back of her neck. Estelle was trying to find a response when a shuttle bus pulled up to the curb and the doors whooshed open.

"Next stop, Graceland," said the driver.

Minutes later they were crowding into the foyer of the sacred site, all too dumbfounded to speak as they gaped at the rooms on either side of them. The tour guide, who was petulant and pudgy rather than perky and petite, rattled off rules about staying together, not wandering off, and most certainly not touching anything, then turned her attention to a room with the longest sofa Estelle had ever seen in her entire life. Swirly blue stained-glass peacocks guarded a room at the rear that contained a black piano and a whole wall of golden curtains.

Estelle nudged Ruby Bee. "Isn't this awesome?"

"I suppose so, but I'd hate to see the bill from the upholstery store. And imagine what it must have cost to keep that white carpet clean."

Her disposition did not improve as they were herded past the dining room, paneled kitchen, down a mirrored staircase to admire the two rooms in the basement, and back up to the fabled Jungle Room, complete with a stone waterfall and gnarly furniture reminiscent of a rain forest.

"Would you look at this!" Estelle said, so dumbstruck she could barely get out the words. When she received no response from Ruby Bee, she cut behind the elderly couple and joined Cherri Lucinda, who at least had the common courtesy to look impressed. "Doncha love it?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "See those telephones? Elvis actually held them in his very own hand. I can almost hear him talking to his mama or telling the cook to fry up a peanut-butter sandwich. I may just pass out."

"It reminds me of my sister's house," Stormy said. "Up till now, I thought she had the worst taste in the entire world, on account of one whole wall in her living room is dedicated to her fishing-tournament trophies. I guess I was wrong."

Cherri Lucinda gasped. "How can you say that? This just proves Elvis was high on imagination."

"High, anyway. Remember the old whale died of a drug overdose."

"I should slap your face!"

Estelle caught Cherri Lucinda's wrist before she could carry through with her threat. "Don't do something that'll get you thrown out of the tour," she said in a low voice. "We haven't even gotten to the Hall of Gold and the Meditation Garden." As soon as she felt Cherri Lucinda's arm go limp, she turned to Stormy. "Now listen and listen hard, missy. If you don't love Elvis, you have no business coming on this pilgrimage and making the rest of us listen to your nasty remarks. You behave yourself or I'll-I'll make you sorry you ever got on the van in the first place!"

"What are you gonna do-poke me in the eye with a bobby pin?" Stormy said with a snide smile.

The guide cleared her throat. "Now we're ready to see Vernon Presley's office, where he and his secretarial staff handled Elvis's business affairs, correspondence, fan mail, and daily household management."

Still simmering with anger, Estelle stalked back to Ruby Bee's side. The group obediently trooped out a back door and along a sidewalk to a separate building. As the guide began to point out various items of interest in what appeared to be an ordinary office, Estelle heard a child's giggles. Putting her hand on her heart in case she was having some sort of supernatural experience and was about to see little Lisa Marie come skipping across the yard, she timidly turned around.

The child on the sidewalk was wearing a faded sweatshirt, plaid pants, and cowboy boots; her mouth and chin were stained red from some sort of candy. The woman who came after her looked like she'd be more comfortable in a doublewide than on the white sofa inside Graceland. Seconds later a guide came out the door, followed by another group of visitors, all craning their necks to look up at the back of the house, maybe thinking they'd see Elvis or his grandma Minnie Mae waving from behind a grilled window.

Estelle made sure nobody was up there, then looked back at the group and found herself eyeballing the man she'd seen the night before in the black car in the Starbright Motel parking lot. He was even uglier in daylight, his nose all crumpled and his lips thick and wet.

She spun around, hoping he hadn't seen her even though he'd been staring straight at her. The guide was busily talking about what all was on the walls behind the desks, but Estelle couldn't make sense of the stream of words that seemed to have everybody mesmerized like bullfrogs caught in a spotlight.

"What's wrong with you?" whispered Ruby Bee. "Now you're the one who's paler than a sow's belly. Did you see Elvis's ghost perched on the chimney or something?"

"We got to get out of here," Estelle whispered back. "I'll explain later."

She snatched Ruby Bee's arm and dragged her out of the office, not daring to look at the man on the sidewalk. She figured they couldn't go back through the house without encountering more groups and uppity guides, so she hung on to Ruby Bee and headed across the lawn in the direction of the Meditation Garden. Since it was the final stop on the tour, it seemed likely the shuttle buses would be nearby.

"Let go of me?" Ruby Bee yelped. "That guide's yelling at us to keep off the grass. The last thing I need is to be arrested for trespassing at Graceland. We'd be the laughingstocks of Maggody if somebody caught wind of it, and God only knows what Arly'd say."

Paying her no mind, Estelle kept going until they arrived at the curved brick wall and fountain. More than a dozen folks were lingering in front of the graves, some looking thoughtful and others honking into handkerchiefs and wiping away tears.

She stopped behind a stone column and peeked back at the yard. The bald man was not in sight, although this didn't mean he couldn't be skulking by the shrubs at the corner of the house, or even creeping behind the garden in order to nab them before they reached the circular drive.

Ruby Bee yanked herself free and rubbed her arm. "What's gotten into you, Estelle Oppers? I was looking forward to seeing all of Elvis's glittery costumes and his gold and platinum records. If we go back, that guide'll bawl us out for cutting across the lawn."

"Stop whining and look at the graves," Estelle said, keeping an eye on the sidewalk. "Afterward, we can go back to the visitors center, have something to eat, and do some shopping. Elsie made me promise to get her one of those paintings on velvet if they don't cost an arm and a leg."

Ruby Bee hesitated, then sighed and said, "I reckon that's okay with me. Let me sit down and catch my breath, then we'll be on our way."

Estelle stopped peeking around the column. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"As sure as Elvis is buried yonder."

Considering Cherri Lucinda's theory about his present whereabouts, Estelle felt a flicker of doubt.