"That pretty well covers it," I said, blinking at her. "Anything you'd like to add?"
"I hope you nail the person who sabotaged the supermarket. When you find out who it is, let me know so I can send him a bushel of apples."
She stepped over the ladder in the yard and went through the back door into the house. Alex and Jackie had vanished, so there was nothing for me to do but get in my car and leave. All the exertion had left my mouth dry, so I headed for the Dairee Dee-Lishus for a cherry limeade and a conversation.
"This is out-and-out crazy," Ruby Bee whispered. "What's more, the stink is making me sick to my stomach. It's worse here than it was in the picnic pavilion."
"Stakeouts aren't supposed to be Tupperware parties," Estelle whispered back, not real pleased with the overpowering miasma of rotting garbage and stale whiskey emanating from the rusty green dumpster. "Just because some private eye on television sits in his car for two seconds and along comes the suspect doesn't mean that's what really happens. If you ain't interested in staking out this rude woman, then you can run along home and watch television by yourself."
Ruby Bee turned up her nose at a moldy orange peel covered with flies and a thread of little black ants. "We don't even know if she's in there. What if she goes to work every day and comes home after dark? We're not even going to see her face when she drives up and goes into her apartment."
A yellow jacket zoomed down on a lopsided aluminum soda can. Estelle scooted back as far as she could without risking being visible from the upstairs apartment, then said, "We agreed that her name didn't ring a bell and we were going to have to look at her to figure out how she fits into all this."
"It seems to me we could have found a nicer place to watch from," Ruby Bee said rebelliously. "We could have parked the car across the highway and sat there, you know."
"And not had a decent look at the woman. Unless your eyesight's improved mightily, you wouldn't be able to tell if it was a him or a her, much less what he or she looked like."
"And you don't wear reading glasses when you think I'm not looking?"
"So do you. That doctor's appointment last week wasn't with a baby doctor, was it? You had to get your prescription checked, Miss Twenty-Twenty, My Eye!"
Ruby Bee snorted, but she didn't say anything because Estelle was right and she wasn't about to say so. The yellow jackets were coming down by the dozens, buzzing every which way and threatening to fly in her hair. She flapped at them as she moved back and tried to get comfortable on the gravel.
I was driving toward the Dairee Dee-Lishus when a sheriff's department vehicle came careening up the highway, the blue lights flashing and the siren going full blast. I was still thinking about it when a second car did the same, followed by a third, with the sheriff himself at the wheel.
Never one to pass up a promising social occasion, I put the pedal to the metal, so to speak. They'd turned onto a back road and the dust was blinding as I bounced along behind them. I prudently slowed down, and when I came around the curve, they were already stopped in front of the Lambertino house.
The deputies were crouched behind the cars, with.38s and sawedoff shotguns pointed at the house.
Harve pulled out a bullhorn and flipped the switch. His voice boomed as he said, "Testing, one, two, three. Okay, buddy boy, we know you're in there. Come out with your hands up and nobody'll get hurt."
I parked behind the last car and ran to Harve's side. "What the holy hell is going on?"
"We got us a-" He realized he was still broadcasting to the next county and lowered the bullhorn. "We got us a rapist in there, according to an anonymous report."
"In Joyce's house? A rapist? An anonymous report?" I realized I was on the disjointed side, but I couldn't help it.
"The call could have been from the Lambertino woman. According to the dispatcher, the caller just said there was a rapist breaking in and then slammed down the phone. We're presuming she was interrupted. The line's been busy ever since, so it's probably off the hook."
"Are the children in there?"
"No way of knowing." He raised the bullhorn to his mouth. "Listen up, we've got the house surrounded and there ain't no way you can get away. Let the woman and the children come out and then you and I'll have ourselves a talk. How does that sound?"
Joyce appeared at a window, waved frantically at us, and then ducked out of sight. After a moment, Lissie and Saralee came to the same window and stood there talking to each other as they watched Harve, the deputies, and me all watching them.
"The little girls seem okay," one of the deputies said out of the corner of his mouth. "The woman looked frightened, though. You want me to see if I can sneak up on the porch and take down the perp through a window?"
"Hold on," I said to Harve, pulling down his bullhorn. "Are we very, very sure there's a perp in there?"
He looked at the two girls, then at me. He sucked on his lips for a minute, shook his head, and said, "Nope. Let's not start taking down any perps just yet, Bertie. Let's just sit tight for a few minutes and see what all happens." He put the bullhorn on the hood of his car and took a cigar butt out of his shirt pocket. The deputies looked disappointed as they lowered their weapons and straightened up.
I smiled and waved at the girls, who replied in kind. They exchanged a few words, then Saralee unlocked the window, yanked it open, and yelled, "Hi, Miss Arly. What are you and all those fellows with guns doing? Are they gonna shoot us?"
"Is there anyone in there with you?"
"Yeah," Saralee yelled, nodding. "Do you want us to come out with our hands up like that fat man said to do?"
The deputies were nudging each other and chuckling. Harve got the cigar going, then picked up the bullhorn. "Who all's in there?"
"Lissie and me," Saralee answered. "Aunt Joyce, Cousin Larry junior, Cousin Traci, and the baby. Uncle Larry Joe went to the high school earlier, but he said he'd be back for lunch. We're not coming out until you swear you ain't gonna shoot us."
Harve ordered the deputies to search the yard and adjoining pasture, and gestured at me to follow him as he walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the door.
"Hi, Miss Arly," Lissie said through the window. "This is better'n television, ain't it?"
"Much better," I said.
Joyce opened the door and threw her arms around Harve. "Thank God you're here," she said brokenly. "You, too, Arly."
Harve disengaged her from his neck and checked his pocket to make sure she hadn't smashed his stash. "Where's the rapist, ma'am?"
"I thought I saw him out back under the forsythia bushes."
"Someone called and said he was in the act of breaking into your house. Was it you?" When she shook her head mutely, he continued. "Is your phone off the hook?"
"I was talking to someone when y'all drove up. It liked to have scared me to death, the sirens and lights and that booming voice and those guns aimed at the house."
The deputies came around to the front yard, none of them dragging a rapist, and reported that the only thing under the forsythia was an ugly yellow dog and a chewed-up plastic truck missing a wheel. Harve brusquely ordered them to wait out by the cars, then gave Joyce a mean look.
"So how'd this rapist story get all the way to my office in Starley City?" he asked.
Joyce twisted her hands and looked at me for help, but I was fresh out. "My second cousin Barbie Buteo called this morning and said that Lamont Petrel had raped a dozen women in the county, escaped from the police, and was likely to be hiding in Maggody. I guess my imagination got loose from me, huh?"
"And where did this Buteo woman hear that?" he asked, still pissed at having had to drive all the way over and make an ass out of himself with the bullhorn and the display of firepower.