The members of the gang were sitting on the floor, cheerfully wolfing down catfish, hushpuppies, fried potatoes, and Joyce's green tomato relish. The redolence made me dizzy, but I stoically continued and found Larry Joe in the dining room with Mrs. Jim Bob, Brother Verber, and Estelle.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him into a corner. "Is Heather here?" I whispered.
"Yeah, she's upstairs with Darla Jean, but she's not doing so well. I found her in the bathroom at your cabin, choking like she had a chicken bone caught in her throat. I was about to pound her on the back when she got hold of herself and told me what was wrong. Seems she went to the cabin like you told her to do, but when she didn't find Darla Jean, she decided to take a shower. She'd just finished washing her hair when she saw somebody watching her through a window. She grabbed her clothes and ducked into a toilet stall."
"Did she say how old this person was?"
Larry Joe looked at the others, who were watching us, then dropped his voice to a barely audible mutter. "She says it was an alien."
I was getting real tired of alien sightings. "So she's upstairs now, presumably eating supper and keeping Darla Jean company. I'm probably going to be out most of the night, dealing with the body. I think it'll be best if the rest of the kids get their sleeping bags and stay here on the livingroom floor. Mrs. Jim Bob can arrange a barrier of folding chairs and sit up till dawn, if she wishes. Arm her with a wet towel so she can snap them if they get any ideas."
Larry Joe scratched his head. "She won't agree unless I tell her why. What am I supposed to say?"
"Tell her that I'm investigating a report of trespassers on the campgrounds. The cabin doors don't lock. If I'm not back in the morning, she can escort the girls to their cabin to shower and change clothes, or persuade Ruby Bee and Estelle to do it. I want all of them under constant supervision until this is cleared up."
"What the hell's going on, Arly? This place is scaring the bejeezus outta me. I mean, I get nervous going to the high school at night to mop the halls and clean the restrooms. I've never found a dead body, though. The only body I'd ever seen before was at my great-aunt Ursala's funeral. I was only six or seven, and my parents made me lean over the coffin and kiss her cheek. I had nightmares for years afterward."
"I don't know what's going on, Larry Joe, but I'll keep you posted. Now go sit down and finish your supper before Mrs. Jim Bob gets more suspicious than she already is."
I left him gawking at me and went into the kitchen. Ruby Bee was flipping another batch of catfish steaks out of a skillet.
"Just where have you been, missy?" she demanded without turning around.
"And where's my station wagon?" said Estelle as she joined us. "I disremember giving you permission to take it. Now there's a strange man out front, seemingly waiting for you." Her artfully drawn eyebrows furrowed. "This is all very peculiar."
"It's complicated," I said with heartfelt sincerity. "I apologize for taking your station wagon, and I'll have it back at some point tonight. The man out front is from the police department in Dunkicker. There seem to be unauthorized people on the campgrounds, and we're looking into it. I've told Larry Joe that I want all of the kids to stay at the lodge until I get this straightened out."
"What's going on?" asked Ruby Bee. "Here we are, aiming to do a few good deeds, and all of a sudden, it seems like…"
I kissed her cheek, and Estelle's, for good measure. "I can't explain now."
"Seems to me we're entitled," huffed Estelle.
"In the morning," I said, then hurried through the living room before Mrs. Jim Bob could catch up with me. Corporal Robarts was sulking behind the steering wheel.
"Drive," I said.
Mrs. Jim Bob came skittering to the bottom of the porch steps as we made our escape up the road. I doubted I'd have my job when we got back to Maggody, but unemployment might just be the catalyst to send me back into battle with those of a more polysyllabic bent. Being a cop in a small town wasn't all that pleasant, as I was sure Corporal Robarts realized. Museum security at the Louvre, I thought, or even a desk job at the FBI.
"So what about the child?"
I shook myself into the present. "I don't know. Darla Jean spotted him down by the lake. She went to find him, chased him all over the place, and had lost him when the storm hit. She said he was perhaps four or five years old. Has anyone reported a missing child?"
"And I'd be having supper at my mama's house if a child was lost, planning to have a look-see after I finished my pie? What do you take me for, Miz Hanks?"
"I apologize, Corporal Robarts. I had no business even implying you'd ignore such a report. I doubt we're going to be close friends, but I hope we can work together on this case. It's your jurisdiction, and you're in charge. I'll make sure the sheriff's team understands that."
"Only had my badge for a month," he muttered. "The police academy turned me down on account of my juvenile record, and Chief Panknine gave me the job 'cause my mama owns most of the town. Busting drunks is one thing. Murder's something else."
"I can't argue with that," I said, wishing I'd borrowed a sweater from Ruby Bee. I was soaked to the bone and I could barely remember when I'd last eaten more than the cheese sandwich. I wasn't hungry; I was hollow. "When we get to Dunkicker, drop me off at the café. I'll fetch my car and meet you at the police department."
"Wanting to interrogate Rachael?"
"I was dreaming of a hamburger, but I do need to know what's going on here. She and the woman in the creek obviously have ties. Brother Verber, Ruby Bee, and Heather all saw what they interpreted as apparitions, but I don't buy into that shit. What's the deal? Is Camp Pearly Gates an alien airfield? If so, I have a moral obligation to get Darla Jean on the ten o'clock news. Television cameras, vans, helicopters, whatever."
He did not look at me, but his eyelid was twitching so madly that I wanted to slap a patch over it. "We don't need no news teams up here. These women aren't hurting anybody. They've got some goofy beliefs, but we let them be."
"These women? Are you talking about a cult?"
"Reckon so. Daughters of the Moon, they say. They call themselves Moonbeams. Folks in town call 'em Beamers."
"You're making this up-right?" I said weakly.
"Suit yourself." He turned onto the highway and accelerated toward Dunkicker.
Jim Bob pulled into the garage, then hurried back into the driveway and waited with a grin as Tonya and Sonya got out of their car. Identical twins, blonde, tall, slender, dressed in halters and miniskirts, giggly as all get out and acting like he was the cutest little ol' thing they'd ever laid eyes on. He knew he wasn't, but when one of them had breathed "LovePussy" into his left ear and the other had done the same into his right, both sides of his brain had melted like a popsicle on the pavement in August. Being a gentleman, he'd bought them several drinks and attempted to make conversation, but their cleavage kept distracting him, the halters doing nothing to restrain their very conspicuous nipples. That, and the way they wiggled on the barstools, like something needed to be scratched.
Jim Bob was willing and, at least for the moment, able. He'd never taken on two women before. Maybe they'd all end up together, or maybe they preferred a tag team sort of thing. He just hoped he could rise to the challenge.
But first he wanted to ask them about a couple of things that'd been puzzling him on the drive home. "How'd you girls know I was close to the Dew Drop Inn-instead of in Alaska or Florida?"
Tonya smiled. "Why, we recognized your screen name, honey, and you've been known to brag in chat rooms about being the mayor of Maggody. We were interested, seeing how we live in Farberville. Sonya even found the town's website and a picture of you. Quite the handsome devil, aren't you?"