It was beginning to get dark as we arrived back at The Luck of the Draw. I stayed close to Estelle as we went into the lobby, praying she didn't see a bald head in the crowd and launch into action.
"Would you take a look at that?" she said, halting in midstep.
I poised my hand within reach of her elbow. "Do you see him?"
"Not hardly. If I'm not imagining things, that's Mrs. Jim Bob at the desk, and Brother Verber right behind her. What in tarnation would they be doing here?"
"They must have heard about Jim Bob," I said.
"I'd almost forgotten about him being in jail. Do you think he called 'em to come bail him out?"
I shook my head. "And be forced to explain why he was here in the first place? I should think he'd prefer to chop cotton for the next twenty years. Let's go up to the room before they spot us."
We'd almost made it to the hallway when Mrs. Jim Bob said, "Arly? Is that Estelle with you? I thought she was on some Elvis Presley tour."
"Shit," I said under my breath, then pasted on a smile. "This is the final destination."
"It shore is good to see some familiar faces?" boomed Brother Verber, grinning so broadly that several people near him shrank back.
Mrs. Jim Bob beckoned at me. "I want you to come over here and talk some sense into this young fellow. I have never in all my born days encountered such impudence. I have explained the situation to him at least a dozen times, but I might as well have been trying to communicate with Marjorie." She stared at the desk clerk. "Marjorie's a sow, for your information."
"What's the problem?" I asked as I joined her.
"He says we can't stay here."
"There aren't any rooms," the desk clerk said, looking as if he were prepared to duck behind the desk if she threw a punch.
Brother Verber rocked forward and pointed his finger at the hapless clerk. "No room at the inn," he said, "is what they told Mary and Joseph. Do you think that innkeeper was welcomed into heaven when his day came? Do you think ol' Saint Peter slapped him on the back and told him to come on in and make hisself at home 'cause there was plenty of room?"
The clerk gulped. "It's Saturday night. All the hotels from here to Memphis are always full. If you want to come back on Tuesday, we can fix you up."
"Do something, Arly," growled Mrs. Jim Bob.
"You planning to give birth?" I asked her. "I can probably get you a bed in the maternity ward at the hospital."
"You listen here, young lady," she began, quivering with rage, "if you don't curb your tongue-"
Estelle butted in. "Jim Bob's room is liable to be empty for some time to come. You all could stay there."
"Have you forgotten I am a respectable married woman? Some folks"-she turned a beady-eyed glare on those waiting in line-"may choose to share a bed with a someone other than their spouse, but I will never stoop to that kind of immoral behavior. I am a devout Christian, and when I got married, I vowed to love, honor, and obey. I disrecollect the preacher saying that infidelity was acceptable."
"It was just a suggestion," said Estelle as she stalked away.
I didn't know what Mrs. Jim Bob had learned about Jim Bob's current woes, but it didn't seem wise to suggest that she share a room with Cherri Lucinda.
"Okay," I said without enthusiasm, "here's what we can do."
12
Kevin had long since driven all the way around Farberville and was heading west in the direction of the Oklahoma border. He hadn't seen Dahlia's car anywhere along the way-not parked in front of a store or next to the side of the highway, which is where he figured it'd be if she had a flat tire. He'd done his best to teach her how to change a tire, but she'd always just given him a puckery look until he fixed it himself and they could be on their way.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. The state police car was still behind him, and now there was another following it. Since he was being real careful to stay well under the speed limit, he wasn't worried about them. It was getting on toward Saturday evening, after all, and they were most likely going home to have supper with their families and watch television. If only he could be doing the same, he thought wistfully. Instead, he had no choice but to go search for his wife so he could bring her back to her sweet little babies.
It was hard not to imagine the worst. What if she'd been run off the road by a motorcycle gang and was plastered against the steering wheel, unconscious and in danger of icing over like a white wedding cake? She'd been frettin' about money ever since she came home from the hospital. What if she'd been so desperate that she'd been hired by a drug dealer to take his filthy wares to Oklahoma? She could be in a jail in Muskogee or Sallisaw, hanging down her head in shame. Or what if she'd met some fellow with plenty of money and was lying in his arms in a motel room? What if the room had velvety red wallpaper, a mirror on the ceiling, and a king-size water bed? That would explain why she kept slapping away her lawfully wedded husband whenever he wiggled up next to her under the covers and let his fingers ramble over her wondrous ripples of flesh. Was she doing it 'cause she loved this fellow-or was he giving her money?
Kevin's eyes clouded with tears. It was his fault, not hers. If he was bringing home more money every week, she wouldn't have been obliged to sell her body to a stranger, even if he drove a fancy car and bought her boxes of chocolates and great big bottles of perfume that smelled like diamonds.
He blinked as he watched a car with the sheriff's logo cut across the grassy median and fall into line behind the other two. Maybe there was some sort of policeman's ball up the road a piece, and they were all gettin' ready to dance the night away. He slowed down to encourage them to get on to their party, but none of them pulled into the passing lane. In fact, they were acting like he was leading them right to the door of the Elks Lodge or wherever they were going.
Kevin had never before considered himself a natural-born leader. This was kind of nice, though. Here he was, gathering up all the law-enforcement agents in Stump County so he could guide them to where they wanted to go. He rolled down the window and waved at them so's to assure them that they were in good hands; in response, they turned on their blue lights, adding a downright festive air to the occasion.
It was only fitting that he was in a Bronco, and a white one at that, since he pictured himself in a big white cowboy hat with a little feather tucked in the band. Feeling like the trail master at the head of along line of covered wagons, each filled with stouthearted settlers, rosy-cheeked children, and all their worldly possessions, he took them onward into Indian territory.
I was keenly aware I was playing Russian roulette. After some dickering and many homilies from Mrs. Jim Bob emphasizing her moral superiority, she agreed to take my bed in the room originally assigned to Estelle and Ruby Bee. I moved my things into the next room, planning to sleep in what had been Stormy's bed. Brother Verber took Jim Bob's room. Cherri Lucinda, conveniently absent, had not been consulted, but I was pretty sure she'd rather have me than her boyfriend's acid-tongued wife or Maggody's spiritual guru (to use the term loosely).
I'd put my toothbrush in the bathroom and was hoping to sneak away to the hospital, when Mrs. Jim Bob barged through the adjoining door with Brother Verber in tow.
"Explain what's going on," she said. "Jim Bob is in jail for killing some woman? Why isn't he in Hot Springs? Have you spoken to him? I want answers, Arly Hanks-and none of your smart talk."
I looked longingly at the door to the hallway, but forced myself to stay put. "I don't know for sure why Jim Bob is here. He must have changed his mind when he reached the interstate, and decided to come to Mississippi instead. Two of the women on the Elvis tour were staying in this room. He invited one of them to… go down to the casino. I was there myself last night. Lots of good, clean fun."