The Maggody Militia Page 20

  “Kevvie!” she bellowed into the woods. When she didn’t get an answer, she found a log and sat down to figure out what to do. It was a long way back to County 102, and then a longer way back to town if Estelle hadn’t come home so Dahlia could use the telephone. On the other hand, Kevvie could be most anywhere on Cotter’s Ridge.

  She took out the wrapper and stared at it as if it might change itself into something helpful—like a map. It wasn’t all bedraggled like it’d be if it’d been under the bush for years, she decided. It was wet, but not real muddy or faded. The militia fellows that’d camped out were supposed to find their food in the woods, so they wouldn’t have been eating something from the Dairee Dee-Lishus. Kevvie would have, though, and nobody seemed to know where he went after he’d been let out at the SuperSaver.

  This meant she was going in the right direction. She panted through a contraction, then resumed pushing her way through the brush. Pretty soon she fell into a regular routine of panting, peeing, and plaintively calling Kevvie’s name. It worked out real good.

  Estelle stopped the station wagon and uncurled her bloodless fingers from the steering wheel. “I’m surprised we’ve made it this far,” she said, nervously eyeing the thick, dark woods on either side of the narrow road. “Every time we go around a bend I expect to run into a tree trunk or bog down in a patch of mud.”

  “So turn around,” said Ruby Bee. “We’re chasing after your inheritance, not mine. It makes no matter to me if you want to give up and go back to town. Being closed all those hours yesterday evening didn’t exactly remedy my money problems, you know.”

  Estelle pressed down on the gas pedal. The back tires spun for a heart-stopping moment, then caught and the station wagon lurched forward. “That was your idea, and it didn’t have anything to do with fetching the ostriches. You just wanted to poke through Brother Verber’s shoe boxes. Instead, we got to sit on his boxers for more than three hours, listening to Mrs. Jim Bob carry on about him having lust in his heart for Kayleen. I don’t think it’s fitting for a married woman to concern herself with anybody else’s lust but her husband’s. Surely Jim Bob’s got enough of that to keep her occupied.”

  “Hush!” said Ruby Bee. “I heard something.”

  “You heard the muffler scraping on a rock.”

  “No, it was something else.” Ruby Bee rolled down the window and stared at the impenetrable growth. After a minute, she rolled up the window and shook her head. “I don’t know what I heard, on account of you jabbering like a magpie, but it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever heard before.”

  Estelle wrenched the steering wheel to avoid a fallen branch. She kept her teeth clenched until she got the station wagon back on course, then said, “I been thinking what I’ll do if we actually catch the ostriches, so I can sell them. I might just try advertising in the Shopper and some of the other small town papers like that. First I’ll go to all the local beauty shops and find out how much they charge, then—”

  “Hush!” said Ruby Bee, this time a mite shrilly.

  “What?”

  “I smell something burning. Unless there’s a troop of scouts near by, I’d say your engine’s overheating.”

  “Me, too,” said Estelle as she looked at the bright red light on the dashboard. “I must have busted the oil pan going over that stump a ways back. Now what are we gonna do?”

  The militia was holding a meeting in Sterling’s room. It was crowded, even without Kayleen, who’d opted to go to church, and Judy Milliford, who’d flat-out refused to go anywhere but home. Barry was seated on the only chair. Jake was leaning against the door, his thumbs hooked over his belt. Reed and Sterling were both attempting to pace, which made for some moves that might have come from a Saturday morning cartoon show.

  “Watch where you’re going!” snapped Sterling as Reed bumped into him. “It’s impossible for me to concentrate with you stumbling around like this. What’s more, you stink like a brewery. How many times have I stressed the need to be clear-headed and alert? You wouldn’t be able to see the enemy if he walked out of the bathroom and aimed an automatic at your head.”

  “Sure I would,” Reed said as he tripped over the corner of the bed and floundered into the closet, nearly garrotting himself on a wire hanger before he hit the wall and slithered to the floor.

  Sterling took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Here’s where we stand—or at least those of us who are not in the closet. I remain unable to access the electronic board. Normally, when the password is changed, I receive a coded message that allows me to determine the new password. This time I received nothing. I do not think it’s a coincidence that access was denied the day after Dylan joined us on a probationary basis. Comments?”

  Jake spat into a paper cup. “How do we know he was ever in Colorado or Idaho? We got no proof of that.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Reed said as he crawled out of the closet and unsteadily got to his feet. “Remember what all he told us, Barry?”

  “He told us next to nothing,” said Barry.

  Sterling considered reminding them to use code names, but he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Keep in mind that the communications officer did confirm that Dylan had been in their outfit.”

  Barry shrugged. “He confirmed that someone named Dylan Gilbert had been a member. I never saw any identification.”

  “Fer chrissake,” said Reed, “I’ve never seen your fuckin’ driver’s license, either. Does that make you an FBI agent?”

  Barry stood up and pulled out his wallet. “You want to see it now? Hey, how about my library card? You want to see that too?”

  “I don’t give a shit about your library card!” shouted Reed, raising a fist. “How about we step outside and I’ll put your goddamn library card in a place where the sun don’t shine!”

  The door opened, squashing Jake against the wall, and Kayleen entered the room. “What on earth is going on? There’s a deputy in a car parked less than twenty feet from here. Don’t you think we have enough problems without you getting arrested for disturbing the peace?”

  They all thought this over for a moment, then Barry sat back down and Reed fell across the bed. Jake rubbed his nose in silence.

  “Thank you,” said Sterling. “We certainly do not wish to prolong our involuntary confinement in this flop house.”

  “Or stay locked up here,” Reed muttered.

  Kayleen rewarded them with a warm smile. “The best way to get out of here is to get our story straight and stick to it. We really have no choice but to cooperate with the authorities in this situation. Do you all agree?”

  “I ain’t talkin’ to that woman cop,” said Jake as he went into the bathroom to see if his nose was bleeding.

  She waited until he returned, then said, “I think we’ve already been asked about yesterday morning on the ridge. What went on Friday night up there?”

  “Pizza,” said Reed. “Dylan offered to go get some. He took my truck and didn’t come back for almost four hours on account of the truck breaking down. Made sense to me, but then Barry and Jake got all hot and bothered because they thought they saw the truck in town.”

  “What time was that?” Kayleen asked Barry.

  “Around eight-fifteen, after we finalized plans for the maneuvers,” he said.

  Reed sat up and stared at him. “You didn’t show up at the camp till way later than that. What time did you get back, Jake?”

  Jake was staring at Barry too. “Close to nine-thirty. What were you doing all that while, watching the stoplight change colors?”

  “I hung around the bar, hoping I could convince some of the patrons to go to the meeting the next morning. Yeah, I realize I could have spent some quality time listening to Reed complain about his wife, but I didn’t have the intestinal stamina for it.”

  Kayleen looked at Jake. “What time did you see the truck?”

  “On my way back to the camp. I thought you wanted to go to church. You’d better get going or you’ll miss the chance
to get your weekly bellyful of piety.”

  “In a minute,” she said, examining them as if they were steaks in the supermarket meat department. It was hard to tell from her expression if she was finding them overly marbled with fat, but it was likely. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. Sterling and I remained in this room until shortly before ten, discussing recruitment tactics. The rest of you, as well as Dylan and Judy, were on your own between eight and nine-thirty.”

  Barry frowned at her. “So what? Dylan was shot yesterday morning, not Friday night. I’ve already told you where I was. Since Reed didn’t have his truck, he was stuck at the camp. I don’t know what Jake was doing, but I don’t understand why it matters to you.”

  “Nor do I,” said Sterling, trying to regain control of his meeting. “As long as we’re forced to remain here, I think we should take the opportunity to evaluate our three potential recruits. I’ve made some observations about each one. Let’s begin with the boy.”

  Kayleen fluttered her fingers and left. The deputy, who was a real sweetie, told her he thought it’d be just fine for her to go to church. He went so far as to offer her a ride, but she politely declined and left in her Mercedes.

  I wanted to hash over my ideas with Harve, but I needed some more information before I could get it all straight. Or at least not quite so crooked, anyway.

  As soon as I got back to Maggody, I drove to Kevin and Dahlia’s house. The lights were on in the living room, but no one came to the door in response to my repeated knocks. I was on my way around to the back door when Eileen drove into the yard and slammed on the brakes.

  “Are they back?” she said as she scrambled out of the car.

  “No one answered the door,” I said.

  “I don’t know what to do. As far as I can tell, Kevin never came home and now Dahlia’s disappeared too. I’ve been driving all over town, praying I’d see their car. They’re good-hearted kids, but they’re not the smartest folks to come down the pike. You yourself know all the messes they’ve gotten into over the years.”

  “I certainly do,” I said. “Do you have a house key?”

  Eileen took a key out of her pocket and handed it to me. We went inside, made sure no one was there, and went back to the porch.

  “Could the baby have decided to come early?” I asked her. “I haven’t had any experience in that department, but I understand it’s not uncommon.”

  “The hospital keeps insisting she hasn’t checked in, and the clinic says the same thing. Her overnight bag’s by the front door. I opened it in case there might be some sort of clue, but all that’s in it is her nightgown, a magazine, toiletries, her relaxation tape, and a dozen chocolate bars. She must have decided that the instant the baby’s here, her diabetes will be cured. She has some pretty peculiar ideas these days.”

  I patted her arm. “They’ll turn up before too long. You probably should go home in case they call.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said discouragedly.

  I waited until she left, then drove to the PD, noting as I passed that Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill was once again closed. Mrs. Jim Bob’s Cadillac was not parked in front of the rectory, however, so if Ruby Bee and Estelle had gone back there for some convoluted reason, they were free to leave. What was more disturbing was that Brother Verber’s car wasn’t there, either. It was almost time for the Sunday morning service, and it looked as if he was cutting it close.

  After all, timeliness is next to godliness (or something like that).

  Larry Joe put on his coat and gloves, then picked up his rifle and said, “I’m gonna look for Roy. Are you coming or not?”

  Jim Bob let him wait for an answer while he lit a cigar and took a couple of puffs. “Well, Larry Joe, it’s like this. I’d like to go with you. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than do-si-do around the woods, getting wetter and colder till I’m shivering like a hound dog in a blizzard. If we get real lucky, we can be standing under a tree when it gets hit by lightning. I’ve been told your hair stands on end, but I’ve always had a hankering to see for myself.”

  “You’re scared to go outside, aren’t you?”

  Jim Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start up with that shit again. If Roy wants to get hisself lost out there, it’s his business. If you want to do the same, it’s yours. What I want to do is get myself a beer and spend the morning looking through a couple of magazines that feature buck-naked girls with big tits.”

  Larry Joe hesitated, then jammed on his cap and left the trailer. Jim Bob waited for several minutes in case Larry Joe changed his mind. When it seemed safe, he went to the kitchen window in time to see Larry Joe’s back as he plunged into the woods.

  Once he’d settled down with a sandwich, a beer, and a dog-eared magazine, he ordered himself not to think about the terrifying creature he’d seen, but the image kept blotting out the simpery blonde on the page. A clap of thunder caused him to jerk so violently that he bit his tongue and spilled the beer across the cushion.

  “Goddammit,” he said, getting up to hunt for one of Larry Joe’s undershirts to clean up the mess. “Roy and Larry Joe are out of their friggin’ minds, because no one with the sense God gave a goose would—”

  He froze as he realized two unblinking orange eyes were regarding him through the kitchen window. He finally persuaded himself to drop to the floor and crawl into the bedroom, where he could huddle in the corner. Sweat flowed into his eyes and dripped off the tip of his nose. He wasn’t exactly moaning, but he knew the strange noises he heard were coming from his own throat.

  As he sat there with his arms wrapped around his knees, he realized there was only one thing to do—and that was get out to the four-wheel and get his ass off Cotter’s Ridge. It wasn’t easy to persuade himself to get up, but he did. After he’d peeked around the corner to make sure the creature was gone, he grabbed his coat, stuck the packet of cigars in his pocket, and pushed the button on the doorknob to make sure there was no way the creature could get inside the trailer.

  He was halfway there when he remembered he’d tossed the keys to Larry Joe at some point and told him to fetch another case of beer. Had Larry Joe given them back? He slapped his coat pockets as if they were smoldering. He made it to the four-wheel and ascertained that not only were the keys not in the ignition, but that Larry Joe had locked all the doors, including the tailgate.

  He hurried back to the trailer and tried to open a window, any window. Not one of them budged. He rattled the doorknob, then threw himself against the door till it felt like he’d busted his arm. A flicker of lightning was followed almost immediately by thunder.

  “Shit!” he said, looking over his shoulder in case something was sneaking up on him. “This is your fault, Roy Stiver, and you’re gonna pay for it. You too, Larry Joe Lambertino. I’m the mayor and I can kick you all off the town council quicker than a snake going through a hollow log. What have you got to say to that?”

  If he’d had a response, he most likely would have dived under the trailer. As it was, he turned up his collar, tried one last time to beat the door down, and headed along the path to see if he could catch up with Larry Joe.

  “What now?” I asked Raz as he barged into the PD.

  “I’ve had it with that goddamn Diesel! I jest came to give you warning that I’m goin’ after him like he was a rabid polecat. This here time he’s gone too far and I ain’t gonna stand for it no longer.”

  “Calm down,” I said. “It’s your fault, too. How many times have I told you to stay off the ridge?”

  “I reckon it’s a free country and I kin go wherever I damn well please. As soon as I go by my house and git a box of shotgun shells, I’m fixin’ to go right back up there and teach Diesel a lesson he won’t fergit till his dyin’ day. That’d be today, come to think of it.”

  “Raz,” I said, letting my irritation show, “if you shoot Diesel, you’ll end up in jail. I can’t see you being anybody’s new boyfriend, but things may be rougher down at the prison
than I think. Marjorie will end up being served with eggs and grits. I’ll have a minimum of seven years to find your still. I’m sorry that Diesel continues to frighten Marjorie, but—”

  “He shot her.”

  My hand instinctively went to my mouth. “Oh, Raz—why didn’t you say so in the first place? Is she …?”

  He cackled at my horrified expression. “Dead? ’Course she ain’t dead. I wouldn’t have gone to the bother of coming here if she was dead. I’d have wrung Diesel’s neck with my bare hands. Come out to the truck.”

  I trailed after him. Marjorie was sitting in the cab, her ears drooping and her eyes downcast. If I were into anthropomorphism, I would have inferred that she was embarrassed.

  “See fer yourself,” Raz said as he pointed at her side, which was covered with an orange blot. Not covered completely, mind you; Marjorie weighs upwards of four hundred pounds and it would take a gallon of Sherwin-Williams’s finest to do the job.

  “He shot her with a paint pellet?” I said.

  “He shore did,” Raz muttered, “and he’s gonna pay for it. Marjorie’s making out like it don’t matter, but I kin tell she’s so riled up she don’t know if she’s comin’ or goin’. Jest look at her, Arly. Ain’t she a helluva sorry sight?”

  I nodded with great solemnity. “She sure is. Why don’t you go on home and clean her up? Maybe she can be persuaded to have a little soup and watch one of those televised church services. After listening to a couple of hymns, she’ll snap right out of it. Pedigreed sows are amazingly resilient, despite their delicate natures.”

  “Mebbe so,” he said, opening the door on the driver’s side.

  I’d taken a step toward the PD when I realized there was something amiss with the story. “Raz,” I said, “did you actually see Diesel shoot Marjorie?”

  “Nope,” he said, “but he done it jest the same.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “’Bout an hour ago.”

  “But where would he have gotten hold of the pellet and the pistol? He hasn’t been in town in almost a year, and even if he has, these things aren’t available at the SuperSaver. The yahoos in the militia had their pistols confiscated before we went to the PD.”