I stood up. "I need your gun."
"What you need, Miss Hanks, is a therapist to help you work through your persistent paranoia." The telephone rang. "Raoul must have found it. If the employee is not on duty, I'll give you his home address. I'm sure he and his family will welcome an unexpected guest with a long list of questions." Smirking, he picked up the receiver. "I hope this hasn't disrupted-"
He listened for a long moment, his mouth tight with irritation. "I think, Miss Oppers, that you share Miss Hanks's affinity for fantasies. Jim Bob Buchanon must have left his coat on the balcony for some reason. The wind blew it into a corner. Or maybe someone with an immature sense of humor dropped a bag of garbage from a higher floor. However, if it will ease your mind, I'll get a key and have a look."
"What?" I said as he hung up.
"According to Miss Oppers and other members of this wretched tour, there is a body on the balcony of room eight-fifteen. She acknowledges that it's dark, but she's adamant that they can see the outline of a human form. The adjoining door is locked, so they're unable to investigate. This is too much, Miss Hanks. I will personally make sure that C'Mon Tours is not allowed to enter the state of Mississippi ever again."
"Let's go, Mackenzie," I said, "and for pity's sake, bring your gun."
Not even Muzak could have enlivened our elevator ride to the eighth floor. As we went down the hall, Mrs. Jim Bob came out of the room she was sharing with Estelle. She stared at Mackenzie, no doubt thinking I'd lapsed into the ultimate moral depravity and would end up with a two-toned infant, then said, "There you are, Arly. The doctor at the hospital called and wants you to call him back. Also, Harvey Dorfer called, but didn't leave a message. It's been impossible for me to so much as close my eyes."
"Is Brother Verber still in his room?" I asked.
"How should I know? I am not his keeper any more than I'm your private secretary"
I took a breath. "Estelle says she can see a body on his balcony."
Mrs. Jim Bob's eyes widened, but before she could sputter a response, Mackenzie said, "This is not confirmed, ma'am. Miss Oppers has been seeing all sorts of things today. I will not be surprised when she claims to have encountered Elvis in the stairwell."
"Actually, he's out in the parking lot," I said, then went into the room that had originally been assigned to Stormy and Cherri Lucinda. Estelle was slumped on a bed. Cherri Lucinda was on the balcony, holding up a flickering cigarette lighter as if she were a human lighthouse. As I joined her, I noticed Rex leaning against the rail.
"What do you see?" I asked.
"I'm darn near positive that's a shoe," Cherri Lucinda said. "Where there's a shoe, there's apt to be a foot and a leg and… so forth."
I could make out a mound next to the sliding door. I went back into the room and said to Mackenzie, "I can't tell from here. It could be an overcoat, or it could be a very inert person."
"Oh, dear God," gurgled Mrs. Jim Bob. "It's Brother Verber, isn't it? He went out for a breath of air, then fainted and froze to death. I feel like I'm being visited by the plagues of Egypt. Are frogs gonna start raining down on my head?"
Mackenzie tried the door that adjoined the two rooms, but it was indeed locked from the opposite side. "I guess we'd better take a look," he said to me.
I told Estelle to restrain Mrs. Jim Bob, who was gulping noisily and carrying on about lice, locusts, and flies. I trailed Mackenzie out into the hall and waited while he unlocked the door.
"I didn't think anybody was staying here," he said as we went inside. "Who's Brother Verber?"
"I'll explain if necessary." The room did not appear to have been disturbed since I'd been in it earlier. It hadn't been tidied up, either. The whiskey bottle was still half full-a promising sign that Brother Verber had not come back for his purported solitary prayer vigil.
Resisting the urge to allow Mackenzie to do the dirty work, I opened the sliding door. "There's a body, all right," I said over my shoulder. "I feel as though I should consider him an old friend, but I don't know his name."
Mackenzie nudged me aside. "Well, Miss Hanks, you're not quite as paranoid as I'd assumed. He most definitely is bald."
"He was bald. Now he's dead," I added, gazing at the wire that had been twisted tightly around his neck.
"Is Dahlia home?" said Kevin as he and his pa drove away from the county jail.
"You plannin' to show her how purty you look in lipstick, boy?" growled Earl. "When this gets out, I'll be ashamed to show my face at the feed store. Everybody's gonna assume you're a faggot. Why'd you have to go and put on lipstick before you stole the four-wheel?"
Kevin cringed against the door. "It's kinda hard to explain. I dint want Dahlia to recognize me if she looked in the rearview mirror. If I caught up with her, I mean. Is she back home?"
"No, your ma was still over at your house when you called. You're damn lucky you're not spending the next five years in jail for grand theft auto-and if you'd taken anybody else's vehicle, you would. Despite being kin, Canon was ready to press charges. He finally backed off when I reminded him of the money his pa still owes me for that parcel of land down by Boone Creek. I ain't never gonna get it now."
"I'm real sorry, Pa," Kevin said, staring at the dashboard. "I was trying to keep my family together. I guess Dahlia's run off with another man. I should have seen how tired she was and figured out a way for her to rest up until she was her regular sweet-natured self again. The doctor called it something fancy, but I just thought of it as the baby blues times two."
"I can't see her running off," Earl said. "Buchanon women don't do that. Well, there was Maizie Grace, but she was always flighty. You recollect her?"
"Yeah, Pa. " Kevin turned away to hide the tears forming in his eyes.
Earl cleared his throat. "Quit your sniveling and see if you can get a ball game on the radio. You're stupider than cow spit, but you ain't a faggot-okay?"
The Reverend Edwin W. Hitebred's eyes flew open. It took him several seconds to remember where he was and, more important, why he was there. The Mount Zion Church was under siege by satanists, and he alone was willing to risk his life to defend it. He'd armed himself with a Bible, a crucifix, and the vial of holy water he'd purchased at a tent revival back in 1967.
But he couldn't allow himself to nod off again. No matter how uncomfortable the chair, no matter if his back started aching and his knees began to throb, no matter if the satanists set fire to the church, he would be ready.
He started as he heard a creak. It seemed to come from overhead rather than out in the main room. Could that be how they were breaking into the church? Hitebred held his breath and strained to hear the sounds of footsteps on the roof.
After a good thirty seconds, he exhaled. He'd pretty much convinced himself that most likely it had been nothing but wind when he heard a hoot from outside. It could have been an owl-but it could have been a signal. He forced himself to go over to the window and peer out. If they were crawling on their bellies like the serpents they were, they were staying too low to be seen.
He'd just resettled in the chair when he heard a car drive by. Either folks down the road were on their way home-or the satanists were making sure the church was empty before coming inside.
It occurred to Hitebred that he might be in for a long, cold night.
Mackenzie was calling Chief Sanderson as I left the room and went next door. "There is a body," I announced, "but it's not anyone you know. Estelle, let me have your room key. I need to make a call."