Tension was mounting in the cell block, if the three dingy cubicles could be described as such. Up until then, Jim Bob's day had not been all that bad, considering. Japonica had brought him a hamburger and fries for lunch, and had mentioned the possibility of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and apple pie for supper if he behaved himself. She'd made it clear that a bottle of bourbon was out of the question, but then good ol' Chief Sanderson had slipped him one between the bars, like they were butt-slappin' cousins at a family reunion, checking out the dating possibilities. They'd passed the bottle back and forth while debating the hardships of deer hunting versus duck hunting.
Nobody'd asked him much of anything or made him go through his story over and over. He'd been daydreaming about Cherri Lucinda's exceptional talents, feeling real warm and smug, when the door had slammed opened and a double-barreled shotgun had blown away his peaceful little world.
And they were still there on the opposite side of the bars, huffing, puffing, peppering him with questions, and doing their damnedest to rescue his soul. Jim Bob, being fond of his soul in its blissfully flawed condition, was getting cranky.
"'Come, humble sinner, in whose breast a thousand thoughts revolve,'" sang Brother Verber, his eyes closed and his hands clinched so tightly his fingers looked like penne pasta. "'Come with your guilt and fear oppressed, and make this last resolve.'"
"What about Hot Springs?" repeated Mrs. Jim Bob. "You specifically said you were going to the Municipal League meeting. You were supposed to get a new stoplight."
Jim Bob did his best to look guileless, even though Brother Verber's entreaties to 'come' were stirring up some seriously inappropriate memories. "Like I said earlier, it got called off. There I was, all the way down to the interstate, and I heard on the radio that the whole darn thing was canceled because of…"
"Because of what?"
"Snow," he said, then mentally kicked himself for getting himself in deeper in something a whole lot less odorless than snow. "They were worried that we might have a blizzard and everybody'd be trapped for days on end. It turns out they were wrong, of course, since we haven't seen a single flake. However, they had to be cautious on account of Hot Springs being remote like it is. I was too scared to risk driving back over the mountains, so I decided to come over here and wait until the weather boys said it was safe to go home."
Brother Verber gave him a look of profound disappointment. "Brother Jim Bob, you're only foolin' yourself if you continue to deny you took a detour on the highway to heaven. The Lord will forgive you this one time if you'll get down on your knees and beg for mercy. I have to say, though, He's losing patience with you. Even the most goodhearted shepherd gets weary of going out into the night to hunt for a strayed lamb. One of these days you're gonna reach out for Sister Barbara and she won't be there."
"She won't?" Jim Bob asked curiously. "Where's she gonna be?"
"Making sure the electric chair's plugged in," Mrs. Jim Bob said without hesitation. "After they've fried you to a crisp, don't think you'll be issued a halo and a harp. Fornication is a sin that's a sight more serious than sipping whiskey on the Sabbath or diddling with the supermarket accounts."
"Fornication?" Jim Bob said, slapping his hand across his chest. "I'd never do something like that. You know what, Brother Verber? Even though I know I'm pure of such wickedness, I would like to get down on my knees and repent right this minute, just because I may have-for no more than a few seconds-harbored lust in my heart while gazing at a sweet young thing when she was buying a candy bar at the checkout counter. I got to admit that sometimes the flesh is weak. Satan starts hissing in my ear, and my thoughts stray into the garden of forbidden fruit."
"Praise the Lord" Brother Verber said, wiping his eyes as if they were blinded with tears of joy (which they weren't, but most likely should have been if he'd been paying proper attention instead of musing about fried catfish, hush puppies, and green tomato relish for supper). "Did you hear that, Sister Barbara? This particular sinner is gonna bare his soul and come back into the flock. I think we have a miracle in the making?"
Jim Bob looked up with an embarrassed grin. "It's just that I need to allow my bowels to purge themselves of the vestiges of overindulgence. It won't take but a few minutes. Could you be kind enough to ask Japonica to let me go to the restroom?"
Mrs. Jim Bob glared but held her peace, since she wasn't quite sure what-all was going on in his head. Salvation wasn't likely to be on the top of his list; she'd been dragging him to church for years and hadn't seen any improvement to date. Then again, he'd never gotten himself locked in a cell for murder. It could be that he was finally beginning to see the light, or at least the folly of his sinful behavior.
Japonica came down the short hall and unlocked the cell. "You two want to sit down in the front room while you wait?"
Jim Bob was rubbing his hands as he came out of the cell. "Ain't that a thoughtful suggestion on Japonica's part? Due to all the stress, I may need a few minutes. Take a breather and think of some more of those soul-stirring hymns, Brother Verber. It's all I can do to stop from breaking out in song right this minute. Japonica, my angel of compassion, I hope you'll join us in prayer before the evening is over."
"You bet," she said as they all trooped out to the office. Mrs. Jim Bob and Brother Verber stepped into a corner to discuss this unanticipated turn of events as Jim Bob went into the washroom. He locked the door, turned on the tap, and assessed the possibilities. The window was high, and not more than two feet square. There might be garbage cans filled with rats on the other side of the wall. The lavatory looked like it might be wobbly. It wouldn't be easy.
Estelle was seated on a stool in front of a slot machine, a cup of nickels in her lap. Even though she had a good view of the crowd streaming through the casino, the noise was enough to drive her crazy, what with the machines around her dinging and ringing every time they spewed out a few coins. Folks who should have known better were shrieking, barging between the rows of machines, slopping drinks on each other, and smoking so many cigarettes that the air was thick enough to choke the cud right out of a cow.
Taylor sat down on the next stool. "Having any luck?"
Estelle stuffed a nickel in the slot and pushed a button. When nothing much happened, she said, "Not hardly. Are you here by yourself?"
"Are you asking if Todd came back? No, he didn't. I spent most of the day in our room, staring at the door and trying to decide what to say when he appeared. I went down to the restaurant several times, and walked around in here. I even went to the sixth floor and stood outside every door to listen for his voice. Not only has Todd vanished, but so have all of his old friends who were in the bar last night. I'm really starting to worry about him. Maybe he really was coming down with the flu or pneumonia or something like that. Could he have been taken to a hospital?"
Estelle dug through her purse and found a clean tissue. "Here," she said, handing it to Taylor. "If he's sick, someone would have called you. After all, you're his fiancee."
"Or was, anyway," she said glumly. "Does Maggody have a home for unwed mothers?"
"Now, Taylor, it's gonna be just fine. When he shows up, you can remind him of his responsibility to you and the baby. If he's scared of upsetting his mama, you and him can go down to Little Rock and have a cozy family wedding."
She blotted her nose. "I guess I'll go upstairs and see if he's there. The way things are going, I won't be surprised if his duffel bag is gone. This is all so Victorian, if you know what I mean. Here I am, a penniless orphan, pregnant with the young master's child, abandoned at the altar-"