"Do you think Madam Celeste could identify the fathers just by thinking real hard? Wouldn't we need to take her something so she could grasp the cosmic vibrations or whatever it is she does?"
It was Estelle's turn to chew. "We can't steal Robin's body and take it over there; the sheriff would have a fit. We just need something that belongs to Robin."
Ruby Bee stared at the storeroom door, behind which was a crib and the sweetest thing you ever laid eyes on. "Something comes to mind, now that I think about it. I just hate to wake him up and set him off howling and screaming the rest of the day."
"That little dumpling? We'll carry him out to my station wagon, and I'll drive slower than smoke off a manure pile. He won't notice a thing until we're back here, all safe and sound. And he can sleep better because we'll know the identity of his dear pappy, who loves him and can come pick him up to take home with him." Estelle picked up her purse and settled her sunglasses on her nose. "Fetch the baby, Ruby Bee. It's almost ten o'clock."
Ruby Bee fetched as carefully as she could, but Baby was screaming like one of those punk rockers by the time they drove out of the parking lot of Ruby Bee's Bar and Grill.
At ten o'clock I reported in to the sheriff's office. Once LaBelle finished informing me that I was supposed to wait four hours, which would make it twelve instead of ten, I asked if there had been any further communiqués from Ruby Bee or Mrs. Jim Bob.
"Not a word from either of them, honey. Nobody has any messages for me to send to you. You don't have to worry about that."
Rather than relieving me, the silence struck me as ominous. "Did you ever find out what was going on at Mrs. Jim Bob's house while she was putting in all those hysterical messages for me?" I asked.
"Can't say I ever inquired," LaBelle said with an audible sniff. "You know perfectly well that I am not supposed to discuss police business with civilians."
I scratched my nose as I tried to make sense of that remark. As I opened my mouth to point out that I was police, LaBelle informed me that she had to make a visit to the little girls' room and that she would look forward to hearing from me in four hours. I hurriedly asked her to check up at the high school to see if Kevin Buchanon had come to work yesterday, and to ask his parents if he was at home today. LaBelle made a gurgly noise and told me to take care, bye-bye.
I went back to my nest, telling myself that David Allen had things under control at Mrs. Jim Bob's house. He probably had a list of the fathers and was busy calling them one by one to tell them the good news. Mrs. Jim Bob was plying him with fresh coffee and pecan pie, while the Buchanons frolicked like puppies in the front yard. As for Ruby Bee, perhaps she wasn't in the midst of doing something she knew darn well would irritate me, if not enrage me. She was counting spoons or bathing the baby, or serving up heaping plates of chicken fried steaks, gravy, green beans cooked with salt pork, crisp fried okra, mashed potatoes, cherry cobbler…
I abandoned my post long enough to get the box of cornflakes from my tent. Then, lecturing myself at ninety miles an hour, I returned to the post and stuffed said flakes into my mouth while keeping an eye on the pot patch. Just like it mattered. Ten-fifteen, if you're counting.
David Allen rapped again on the bedroom door. "Please come out, Mrs. Jim Bob. We've got to do something about the children."
"I don't care what you do with those filthy, satanic monsters. They've ruined my life. Let them rot in hell for all eternity."
"I realize they did a certain amount of damage downstairs, but-"
"Did you see the rip on the sofa?" she demanded shrilly. "The mud on the new beige carpet? The smears on the walls? Did you smell the guest bathroom? Did you?"
David Allen tried to remember a chapter that dealt with the impending hysteria of a client. He decided there probably wasn't one. "We can clean all that up, if you'll just unlock the door and come out of the bedroom. Please, Mrs. Jim Bob."
"He's going to kill me," she answered, shrillness replaced with flatness.
"I won't let Bubba or Hammet or any of the children near you," David Allen said. "I promise that they'll keep nice and quiet so we all can talk about their futures."
"He's going to kill me. He said so, plainer than day."
David Allen came to the conclusion that it wasn't doing any good to converse through the door, and it was clear she wasn't coming out anytime soon. He went downstairs, where he found the four Buchanon children hunkered on the floor in front of the refrigerator amid a clutter of bowls and bottles.
"Having a picnic?" he inquired in a jovial, hearty tone meant to win their trust and ensure their cooperation.
The intensity of the slurps and belches increased, but no one bothered with a reply. He opened cabinets until he found a bourbon bottle pushed way back in a corner, and poured himself several inches of courage. Only then did he squat down next to Hammet and give him a comradely wink.
"What do you think, buddy? Shall we talk about fathers?"
Hammet put a handful of cole slaw in his mouth. "Ain't none of us know anything about that," he said in a jovial, hearty tone that sounded suspiciously familiar to David Allen's professional ears. "You ain't going to find our fathers, so there ain't no point in harpin' any more about it. When's Arly coming back?"
Bubba growled through a piece of chicken. "Who gives a fuck when the policewoman comes back? She's just a damn whore anyways."
Hammet slung a handful of slaw across the little picnic area. "Take that back, you shit-faced sumbitch, or I'll stuff that chicken wing up your nose!"
"Sez who?" Bubba said, rising to his feet. He ignored the strands of slaw dripping off his chin as he crushed a Tupperware bowl under his foot. "Wanna make me?"
David Allen decided the time was not appropriate for a discussion of paternity. He went to his vehicle and lit a cigarette. He did not glance up as a curtain fluttered in an upstairs room. When the cigarette was finished, he drove down the driveway without once looking back.
"Isn't he a living doll?" Ruby Bee held up Baby so that the little legs dangled like a ballerina's.
"I do not have time to admire babies," Madam Celeste said through the screen. "I am studying the cards. Come back later."
"But this is right up your alley," Estelle said. "This is just like that case back in Las Vegas when you found the poor little boy's body out in the desert. This is a police investigation."
"So now you are police? How interesting. When did you change professions?"
Estelle shoved Ruby Bee closer to the door. "You remember how Ruby Bee's daughter is the chief of police, don't you? We're just helping Arly while she's gone on a trip."
Celeste shook her head. "I do not know what's happening, but I do know that I am not a babysitter or even the sort to make stupid noises over a baby. Go away and leave me alone."
Mason came out of the den. "Hi, Miss Oppers, Miz Hanks. Wherever did you get that adorable little baby?" Ignoring his sister's hiss, he went to the screen door and opened it. "Y'all come right in so I can get a better look at this baby of yours."
While he bent down to tweak toes and make stupid noises, Estelle gave Madam Celeste her most meaningful look. "This baby's mother is the woman who was found dead up in the woods somewhere."