The Maggody Militia Read online

  The line was busy at the PD, and nobody answered at Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill. Canon Buchanon was living in his car these days, so there wasn’t any way to call him to find out if he’d heard any gunshots while he was down by the low-water bridge. She tried her in-laws’ again, but Eileen was still on the line, probably talking to Millicent McIlhaney.

  Frustrated, Dahlia ate the last carrot stick and finished the soda. On the television screen, a man with big teeth was begging her to buy a contraption that cut potatoes into fancy slices, but she couldn’t bear to listen while Kevvie was in terrible danger. She turned off the set, put on her coat and gloves, went outside, and started down the road. It was a good two miles to the low-water bridge, even if she cut through the schoolyard and the pasture behind the old Emporium. It would take nearly an hour, she realized, and when she got there, all she could do was holler Kevvie’s name and pray he answered.

  She slowed down as she approached Raz’s shack. A light was on in the front room and smoke curled out of the chimney. More important, his truck was parked in the yard. She reminded herself that even though he was an ornery cuss, he was a neighbor and a Buchanon just like Kevvie.

  Still, it took her a few minutes to find the courage to go up to his porch and knock on the door. “Raz?” she called. “Lemme in before I turn blue.”

  The door opened far enough for him to glare at her through the crack. “I don’t much cotton to uninvited company. Whatta ya want?”

  Dahlia glared right back, hoping her knees weren’t knockin’ so loud he could hear them. “I want you to drive me to the low-water bridge and help me find Kevvie up on the ridge.”

  “Cain’t do it. Me and Marjorie are watching a movie about a talking mule. It’s the first one all week that’s caught her fancy.”

  “You listen to me, Raz Buchanon, and you listen good. I haft to go find Kevvie, and I don’t have time to walk all that way. If you won’t help me, I’ll break down your door and wring your neck. Then I’ll git the key to the truck and drive myself.” She held up a ham-sized fist. “I don’t aim to raise a child on my own. What’s it gonna be, Raz?”

  He scratched his chin. “Tell ya what, we’ll take you there, but we ain’t about to go up on the ridge. Marjorie’s still crumpy from the last time we wuz there.”

  “Leave her here,” Dahlia said coldly.

  “By herself? Why, I couldn’t do that. She’s a pedigreed sow, ye know, and has a delicate nature.”

  “All right, then git her and let’s go. I gotta rescue Kevvie before the end of the month when I have the baby.”

  Within minutes, Raz, Marjorie, and Dahlia were headed for County 102. Raz was making his displeasure known by hitting every pothole. Marjorie sat in the middle, her eyes closed. On the passenger’s side, Dahlia stared out the window, battling nausea from the stench in the truck, wishing she’d used the potty before she left the house, and wondering what she was gonna do when Raz left her at the bridge and drove away. The first thing would be to find a bush and relieve herself, of course, but after that … she just didn’t have a clue.

  Chapter 13

  A very bored dispatcher informed me that the Chowden County sheriff would be in his office first thing in the morning, and no one else knew anything about the case. I replaced the receiver and rocked back, trying to sort out the profusion of problems that had popped up like crab grass in the last week. They came in all sizes and degrees of magnitude, from the brutal murder in Mayfly to the disappearances of local residents. At the moment Kevin, Ruby Bee, and Estelle were out of pocket, as well as two unnamed ostriches. At least Brother Verber had reappeared from his unauthorized outing.

  There wasn’t anything I could do about Dylan’s death until the autopsy was final, nor could I make any progress with the burglaries until I talked to the sheriff. I could clear up one minor issue, however, so I locked the PD and drove to the rectory to ask Brother Verber if he was the person whom Earl had seen coming down from the ridge at noon.

  Mrs. Jim Bob’s Cadillac hadn’t moved. I was reluctant to question Brother Verber in front of her, but I didn’t want to put it off until the following afternoon after church. As I walked up the gravel path, the door swung open.

  “It’s high time, I must say!” Mrs. Jim Bob began, then stopped and took a harder look at me. “I thought you were somebody else.”

  “There are days I wish I was.”

  “Have you finally decided to do the job you were hired to do?”

  “I saw the lights and assumed Brother Verber was back,” I said as I went into the trailer. “What are you doing here, looking for photographs to paste on milk cartons?”

  She appeared rather unkempt, even by my admittedly lackadaisical standards. Her hair was mussed, and her skirt and blouse were so wrinkled she might have slept in them. To add to the overall effect, one of her pumps was blue, the other brown. She stared at me, most likely trying to come up with a withering response, then abruptly sat down on the edge of the sofa.

  “I’m worried about him,” she said in a low voice. “He’s not as worldly as some would have you think. No matter how hard I’ve tried to convince him otherwise, he thinks drinking is fine as long as it’s sacramental wine. The Good Lord may think differently, and so may the state police.” She looked up at me with a piteous expression. “Would you have heard if he was arrested?”

  “I’m sure I would have,” I said. I was dangerously close to offering sympathy when I saw Ruby Bee at the end of the hallway, a finger pressed to her lips. Gulping, I made myself look at Mrs. Jim Bob. “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of hours, maybe. I got to where I couldn’t stand wandering around my house. He has to come back soon so he can prepare tomorrow’s sermon. I want to see for myself that he’s safe and sound.”

  “I, ah, don’t think you should stay here,” I said lamely.

  “Why not?” Mrs. Jim Bob countered, regaining a bit of her more typical vinegary spirit. “It’s not like I broke down the door to come inside. Brother Verber himself mentioned that he keeps a key under the mat. He wouldn’t have done that if he minded me using it. Besides, this place was a real mess, and I took it upon myself to clean it up and stock the refrigerator with a few casseroles and a pot of chicken soup. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to find me here.”

  I caught a glimpse of Estelle behind Ruby Bee, both of them frantically signaling me not to acknowledge their presence. “Well, sure he would be, but … but I think I ought to call in a missing person report to the sheriff’s department so they can start searching for him.”

  “I made that clear this morning.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. Why don’t you come with me to the PD so you can answer any questions that may arise?”

  Mrs. Jim Bob crossed her arms. “I’ve already told you everything I know. He was seen in the hussy’s car Wednesday afternoon, and he had the audacity to wink at her several times during the prayer meeting that same evening. He sat next to her at the potluck, smirking like a dead hog in the sunshine, and she was so syrupy that I kept expecting her to crawl into his lap. She’s nothing but a common tramp who’s set her sights on him. What if she talked him into eloping?”

  “And forgot to go along?” I opened the door and gestured at her to stand up. “Why don’t you come with me so you can tell your theories to Sheriff Dorfer? He’ll be fascinated.”

  She switched off the light as she went out the door, but I figured Ruby Bee and Estelle could find their way in the dark. When we arrived at our respective cars, Mrs. Jim Bob said, “You can tell Sheriff Dorfer to call me at home if he wants to. All this worrying has taken its toll on me. I need to lie down.”

  After she’d driven away, I leaned against my car and waited for the miscreants to come out of the rectory. They could probably see me in the diffused glow from the streetlight, but I doubted they had the nerve to linger inside the rectory until I left. Mrs. Jim Bob was more than capable of returning to continue her vigil.

&nbs
p; Eventually the door opened and two shadowy figures scurried toward the old hardware store. I caught up with them at the edge of the road and said, “Would you care to explain what you were doing?”

  Ruby Bee put her hands on her hips. “We weren’t doing anything that concerns you, missy.”

  “That’s right,” added Estelle.

  “I want an explanation,” I said in a stony voice Ruby Bee had used when I’d missed my curfew in high school.

  “Well,” Ruby Bee began, “we thought it’d be nice to take Brother Verber a plate of supper so when he got back, he’d have something filling to eat. I had pot roast left over from lunch, along with carrots, potatoes, black-eyed peas, and a piece of apple pie.”

  “And a clover-leaf roll,” said Estelle. “It was cold, of course, but all he had to do was heat it in the oven for—”

  “Stop it,” I interrupted. “If that’s all you were doing—and don’t think for a minute that I believe you—then why were you cowering in the hallway? Couldn’t you have told Mrs. Jim Bob this same story?”

  Ruby Bee moistened her lips. “She’s been acting right peculiar these last few weeks, and I’m not one to spit in the devil’s teeth. It seemed better to wait until she left. We had no way of knowing she was gonna plunk herself down and start mouthing off. She sounded so crazy we were too scared to come out of the bedroom. For all we knew, she’d taken a knife out of a drawer or brought one of Jim Bob’s shotguns with her.”

  “And if Brother Verber returned?” I asked.

  Estelle took over. “We figured she’d grab his ear and haul him over to the Assembly Hall to pray for forgiveness. That was one of the things she kept saying over and over again. The rest of it doesn’t bear repeating, although I must say some of it didn’t sound very charitable coming from someone who goes around telling everybody what a good Christian she is.”

  “I should say not,” said Ruby Bee. “I’d better get back to the bar in case some customers show up. Come on, Estelle.”

  They went behind the building, where I presumed Estelle’s station wagon was parked. I had no idea what they’d been up to, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  I went back to my car and drove to the PD. The red light was blinking on the answering machine. Ruby Bee hadn’t dawdled in Brother Verber’s trailer long enough to call me before they emerged, and Mrs. Jim Bob couldn’t have made it home yet. I hit the button and heard McBeen’s raspy voice:

  “I got some preliminary results for you. The boy died of respiratory failure, probably after a few convulsions. Could have been he was allergic to bee venom and was stung, but we haven’t found any welts. Nothing in his stomach indicates oral ingestion of anything more lethal than eggs and biscuits. All I can do is overnight some blood and tissue samples to the state lab in Little Rock, where they’re equipped to run sophisticated tox screens. I’ll try to bully them into getting back to me tomorrow afternoon.”

  The second message was even more perplexing. It was from Harve, who’d received an amazingly quick response to his query about the Ingram MAC 10. It seemed the weapon had been seized in a raid on a compound in central Missouri and was implicated in the cold-blooded killing of a local radio personality who’d been both revered and reviled for scoffing at the militia movement. A month before the shooting, the weapon had been reported stolen from a dealer in Arkansas. The dealer’s name was Maurice W. Smeltner.

  Harve hadn’t caught the significance of the name, but I did. It now seemed likely that Dylan had been a federal agent who’d infiltrated this particular militia not because he thought they were capable of violence, but because he was tracing the Ingram MAC 10 back to its original source. Since Maurice was no longer available, he’d ended up with Kayleen.

  I had an urge to leap to my feet and in a single bound be pounding on the door of #3 and demanding answers. However, I didn’t have any questions, and it had been a grueling day. Sunday’s agenda was beginning to swell up faster than Boone Creek in the spring.

  I suppose I should have gone to Ruby Bee’s to insist that she and Estelle tell me the truth, or called Dahlia to find out if Kevin had returned, or filed a missing person report concerning Brother Verber, or fingerprinted the toilet seat in #4.

  Maybe I should have done at least one of those, but I locked up the PD and went across the road to my apartment for a can of chicken noodle soup and an undemanding late-night movie. Considering the way things were going, the only thing on was apt to be Village of the Damned.

  It’s never been one of my favorites.

  “You won’t believe your ears,” Ruby Bee said to Estelle, who’d arrived at the barroom for breakfast the next morning. “I found out what that tight-lipped deputy was doing parked in the lot all night long. You’d have thought that since I own the motel I deserved an explanation right then and there. Anyway, a while ago I took trays to everybody, and Kayleen explained why all the militia folks are staying out back. One of them, a boy from Colorado, was shot while they were playing their war game on Cotter’s Ridge.”

  “Shouldn’t he be staying in a hospital?” said Estelle as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “He’s in the morgue—and nobody knows what killed him.”

  “You just said he was shot. Can I have some cream for this? It’s strong enough to bubble the paint off aluminum siding.”

  Ruby Bee didn’t much care for the aspersion, but she slid the ceramic pitcher down the bar before she got back to the more important affair of repeating gossip. “At first, Arly and the sheriff agreed it was an ordinary hunting accident, but then they found out the bullet wound wasn’t all that serious.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “What’s more, Earl and Kevin were there, as well as Jeremiah McIlhaney. I’d liked to have been a fly on the wall when those three told their wives.”

  Estelle wasn’t ready for conversation, so she busied herself calculating the precise amount of cream needed to make the coffee palatable. Ruby Bee went into the kitchen to check on the ham in the oven, then returned just as Eileen came into the barroom and said, “Where’s Arly?”

  Ruby Bee shrugged. “She hasn’t been here this morning.”

  “She’s not at the police department or her apartment. It’s real important that I talk to her!”

  Estelle patted the stool beside her. “You’d better sit down, Eileen. You’re white as a slab of cream cheese. Ruby Bee, why don’t you get Eileen a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ve got to find Arly!” said Eileen, remaining where she was. “Yesterday Kevin went off somewhere, and now Dahlia’s gone, too. I called their house this morning, then went over there. Nobody was home. I thought maybe Kevin had rushed her to the hospital, but according to the reception desk, they’re not there. The clinic hasn’t heard from them either, and they were supposed to call before they left for the hospital.”

  Ruby Bee went ahead and filled a cup with coffee. “Could they have gone to a different hospital?”

  “I don’t see why they would. The clinic gave them instructions to go to the one in Farberville, and they’ve already filled out the admission forms and made sure they know which door to go in. Kevin came close to passing out when he heard how much the delivery will cost, but the hospital agreed to monthly payments.” Eileen took a swallow of coffee, grimaced, and put down the cup. “I’m beside myself with worry. Earl thinks Kevin came home real late, and by way of apology, took Dahlia for a drive this morning. He says Dahlia forgot her promise to call us when he showed up.”

  “He could be right,” said Estelle.

  It was obvious that Eileen was on the verge of bawling, so Ruby Bee hurried around the bar and gave her a hug. “It’s gonna turn out fine,” she said, “but when Arly shows up, I’ll have her call you just to be on the safe side.” She waited until Eileen trudged out of the bar, then looked at Estelle. “I don’t know what Arly can do, though. The way folks are coming and going these days, you’d think there was a revolving door at both ends of town. It’s a dad-burned shame those militia
folks pushed their way through it.”

  “The fellow that got shot would be the first to agree with you. I think I’m gonna go out to my house later this morning to collect yesterday’s mail and make sure Elsie’s burglars didn’t drop by.”

  “What about the birds?”

  “It’s broad daylight and there’s no way they could be inside,” Estelle said coolly, ignoring the sudden flutters in her stomach. “Anyway, all we have to fear is fear itself.”

  “I don’t recollect Winston Churchill being pecked so hard he fell off a porch.”

  “He didn’t say it. It was Franklin Delano Roosevelt.”

  Ruby Bee gaped at her. “It most certainly was not. It was Churchill trying to calm everybody down when the Nazis started bombing England.”

  “I beg your pardon. I distinctly remember from my high school history class that it was President Roosevelt.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t hear him say it?” Ruby Bee said sweetly. “I’ve always wondered how much gray hair you’re covering up.”

  Estelle clamped down on her magenta-colored lip until she could trust herself. “I learned about it in school, and my memory’s a sight better than yours, Mrs. Walking Amnesia. Why don’t we just settle this by calling Lottie? She’s a teacher, so she might know.”

  Ruby Bee was already regretting taking such a firm stance, but she wasn’t about to let it show. She opened the cash register, took out a dime, and slapped it down on the bar. “Go right ahead and call anybody you like.”

  “We’ll just see, won’t we?” Estelle marched down to the pay phone and dialed Lottie’s number. As soon as she heard Lottie’s voice, she posed the question and waited for a response. Rather than chortling with self-congratulation, her eyes grew round as silver dollars and her jaw began to waggle. Minutes later, she staggered back to her stool.