Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 02 (7 page)

I looked down at Hammet. "See this kind, Christian woman just brimming with charity? She lives way on the top of a hill, in a great big house with lots of bedrooms and bathrooms, and her refrigerator is bigger than the broad side of a barn. Ooh, it's just stuffed full of good things to eat, like meat and 'taters and cookies and ice cream. How would you and all your dear little brothers and sisters like to visit her?"

"I think," Mrs. Jim Bob said in a strangled voice, "that I'd best go see Brother Verber at the Voice Of the Almighty Lord Assembly Hall. I feel a sudden need for prayer."

I let her stumble away. Then, after opening the back door and the windows, I sat Hammet across the room and we got down to business.

4

Don't think for a minute that Hammet Buchanon spilled out his little heart to me. For one thing, I wouldn't have bet a dollar that he had one; for another, he was about as credible as a televangelist claiming a hotline to God and requesting help with the phone bill. Hammet finally admitted he and his brothers and sisters had been alone for four or five days, and hadn't had much of anything in the way of vittles. When last seen, their mother was going 'seng hunting. I inquired where her patch was. He shot me a suspicious look and told me it weren't none of my goddamn business. What a cutie.

I considered various responses, then settled for a sigh. "Let's get you something to eat, Hammet. I'll call the sheriff's office to see if we can borrow a four-wheel and run up to the cabin. If your mother's still missing, I suppose we'll bring your siblings back to town and deal with the situation then."

"Ain't got none."

"None of what?" I said absently as I clipped on my beeper.

"Them that you said."

I thought about it for a minute, then realized what he meant. "Siblings are brothers and sisters, Hammet. How about a big, greasy cheeseburger and a glass of milk?"

He didn't budge. "Why ain't they brothers and sisters?"

"It's another word that means brothers and sisters, I said, taking his shoulder strap to propel him toward the door.

"Why din't you jest say brothers and sisters?"

Cursing Mrs. Jim Bob under my breath (although I doubted I used any words not an integral part of the child's vocabulary), I dragged him out the door while explaining that there were often several words that meant the very same thing. I could tell he didn't believe a word of it.

We were still exploring the delicate issue of semantics as we went into Ruby Bee's. The proprietor's mouth fell open as I put Hammet on a bar stool, then hopped up on the next stool and gave her a bright smile. "Why, Arly," she said, "whoever is your little friend here?"

"Hammet Buchanon. He's one of Robin's children, and he's starving. How about a cheeseburger and a glass of milk?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Well, he's welcome to something to eat, but don't you think he might like to wash up first?"

I could tell she was thinking of a prolonged session with a sandblaster rather than a cursory encounter with soap and water in the rest room. "He hasn't had anything to eat in several days," I said. "Let's get him fed; then I'll take him back to my apartment and bathe him."

"The hell you will," contributed the object of the conversation. "Sure as cow shit stinks I ain't taking no goddamn bath. Done took one a while back."

Ruby Bee blinked, first at Hammet and then at me. "He has quite a colorful vocabulary, doesn't he? I'll start the cheeseburger right away. Would he like a bag of chips while I'm fixing it?"

"Would you?" I asked Hammet.

"Yeah, what the fuck," he conceded with a shrug.

Ruby Bee had enough sense not to roll her eyes and demand a "please" from this customer. She marched away, but I could hear her mutters all the way through the kitchen door. After a minute I heard her shrilly repeating the conversation, presumably to Estelle. I wanted to escape to the kitchen and explain that none of this was my idea to begin with, but I settled for yet another sigh, then said, "I'm not asking you where the ginseng patch is. All I want to know is if you know where it is."

"Nope. Her never did say. Somewhere on t'other side of the ridge. It were grandpappy's oncet upon a time."

"How long does your mother stay gone when she's 'seng hunting?"

"I dunno. Don't care neither. She's a mean ole sow and I hope the bears et her for supper."

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" I asked, hoping this sudden loquaciousness would last. I'd been at Robin's cabin on another matter, and I'd seen children hovering in the shadows. But at that time I was too concerned with an escaped convict, a kidnapped bureaucrat, and all sorts of crazy shenanigans to try to count those shifting, feral creatures.

"I has four" -- he paused to give me an unfathomable look "siblings, being Bubba, Sissie, Sukie, and Baby. Baby don't count for much 'cause he's too little to do anything exceptin' cry and shit in his britchins. He's about as useless as tits on a boar hog. You reckon we can jest leave him in the baby trough?"

"I doubt it, Hammet." I tossed him a bag of corn chips and spent the next five minutes praying Robin would be at the cabin when we got there. I could hand over Hammet, compliment her on her ginseng, and scoot right back down the mountain. Alone.

Ruby Bee came through the door, a plate in her hand and a disapproving expression on her face. "Here's your food," she said, banging down the plate in front of Hammet.

He bent down to sniff over the plate like a leery polecat. "What be this stuff?"

"A cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, onions, pickle relish, and mustard. I might add that I am often told I fry the best cheeseburger on this side of Starley City," Ruby Bee said. She didn't sound real friendly.

"I ain't eating this crap." Hammet pushed the plate away and lunged for another bag of corn chips.

I caught his wrist and explained that he was going to eat the cheeseburger, one way or another, and that one of those ways included physical acts on my part and a great deal of discomfort on his. He offered a comment that implied I had engaged in a series of unnatural sexual encounters with various barnyard animals. Ruby Bee cut in with a few comments that might have come from the prissy lips of dear Mrs. Jim Bob. Hammet repeated the terse yet effective witticism that gave Mrs. Jim Bob the bout of hyperventilation. Ruby Bee slapped her hand to her heart and started hyperventilating. I suggested everybody shut up. Nobody did.

We were going at it real good when the kitchen door opened and out waddled Dahlia O'Neill. She was wearing her customary tent dress (which could have slept six -- and probably had on more than one occasion) and an apron embroidered with daisies and her name. The sight stopped me in mid-word. Even Hammet broke off with a gasp, giving Ruby Bee the golden opportunity to swoop in for the last word. A favorite hobby of hers.

"I have never in all my born days heard such filthy language. You just eat that cheeseburger right now, young man!" She stepped around Dahlia and vanished into the kitchen.

"How ya doing, Arly?" Dahlia said.

"Fine," I croaked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new barmaid. Madam Celeste -- do you know her? Well, anyways, she told me that I needed to make what she called a career move, so I quit my job at the Kwik-Screw. Ruby Bee done hired me as a barmaid, and it's working out right nice. She, meaning Madam Celeste and not Ruby Bee, told Kevin the exact same thing, which is why he's cleaning the commodes at the high school and sweeping nights at the PD. You must of seen him, Arly -- you being the chief of police and all."

"I've seen him," I admitted. Maybe Madam Celeste would counsel a career move for me. Something in the range of five hundred miles.

Dahlia beamed. "I figured out you had. You want I should get you a beer or something?"

"I'll take coffee, and Hammet'll have a glass of milk."

She figured out how to open the refrigerator under the bar for milk and, after a few false moves, how to coax coffee from the urn. All this in less than five minutes, too. Hammet tore into the cheeseburger with the grace of a hyena, splattering his bare torso and a goodly part of the immediate area with grease. By the time Dahlia put a glass in front of him, he'd polished the burger off and was peering from under his brow at the chips.

"I'll ask this woman to bring you a piece of pie -- if you agree to a bath afterward," I said.

"Don't need no goddamn bath." He rubbed his palm across his glistening front, then carefully licked it.

"But are you willing to submit to one in exchange for a piece of Ruby Bee's homemade apple pie -- with a scoop of ice cream?"

"I don't need no goddamn bath 'til next year. Creek's colder'n a well-digger's ass."

"My creek is not, however. My creek is warm, and it doesn't have any crawdads, snapping turtles, minnows, or rusty cans in it. Deal?"

He nodded without enthusiasm. Dahlia, who'd been listening to all this with a perplexed look, served the pie and even remembered the ice cream. His enthusiasm restored, Hammet tore into it.

"Why's he with you?" Dahlia asked, her cheeks puffed out like a bullfrog's on a summer night as she watched Hammet slurping his way through dessert.

"In the metaphysical sense, I have no idea. Mrs. Jim Bob gave him to me, and I haven't figured out how to pass him along to someone else." I nudged my ward. "You ready for a bath and an exciting ride in a jeep?"

We went to my apartment, and he did indeed take a bath while I washed his overalls in the sink, then dashed over to the Suds of Fun and stuck them in a dryer for a few minutes. When I returned, I threw them into the bathroom. I then called the sheriff's office to arrange for a vehicle worthy of logging trails, dried-out creek beds, animal carcasses, and whatever else I expected we'd encounter.

Hammet came out of the bathroom, his hair slicked down and minus a couple of layers of grime. "That's right smart," he said as he looked around curiously. "Havin' water in the house, I mean. It ain't bad, lady."

I told him he could call me Arly, which brought a shy smile. We went across the street to the PD to get my car, then drove over to Starley City. Hammet had a good time playing with the radio, which actually was functional for the moment. I filled out the paperwork at the county compound, took the keys to a spiffy red jeep, and had enough sense to grab a survey map before we set out into the vast, skimpily charted wasteland of Cotter's Ridge.

"I will see you for only ten minutes," Madam Celeste said through the screen door. "I have a busy schedule, and I do not like to be inconvenienced by intrusions. But stop that whining and come in."

Carol Alice Plummer glanced over her shoulder, then slipped inside. "Thank you kindly for taking me without an appointment, Madam Celeste. I'm in terrible trouble, and I just can't think what to do. You see, I told Bo what you said about us being incompatible because he's a four and I'm a six. Well, you'd of thought I said his foreparents were all white trash. He started fuming and swearing and -- "

"Come to the solarium," Madam Celeste said, pointedly looking at her watch. "I have no time to listen to you dither."

Carol Alice followed the psychic through the dining room. "Anyways, Madam, Bo got so teed off that he told my pa that I was under some sort of magic spell. Then Pa got madder than a coon in a poke and said he was going to whip me so hard I'd forget all this tomfoolery and start worrying about cheerleading practice, like I used to do all the time."

Madam Celeste pointed at a chair. "Sit down and be quiet, you silly girl. You should not have repeated the details of your reading; in fact, I told you quite clearly that everything I reveal to you must be kept confidential."

"I had to tell Bo something when I broke up with him."

"You did not have to involve me in your petty love affairs. You should have told him nothing." Madam Celeste's eyes narrowed. "So both this miserable boy and your father are upset, yes? What do they intend to do?"

"I don't know," Carol Alice said, gulping. "Bo takes after his pa, who gets as mean as a diamondback rattlesnake when he drinks. And my pa ain't exactly Prince Charming, even when he's sober. Of course it's getting near deer season, so that might distract them. They're real big on hunting."

"What comfort for me to know they possess guns," Madam Celeste said coldly. After a minute of thought, she said, "I shall give you a reading right now, and for this one time will not charge you the regular fee. We will use the Mesopotamian sand, I think."

"Oh, that'd be great. Is there any chance the sand'll tell me that Bo and I can get married next June like we planned to do? Then Bo'd stop being so mad, and maybe Pa'd stop saying all those wild things about coming over here to have it out with you."

"I cannot say what the sand will reveal. The Mesopotamian sand can be very precise, or it can be general and only reveal trends. Here, make a handprint and allow me to study in silence."

Carol Alice managed to hold her snuffling to a minimum while the psychic gazed into the Tupperware bowl, but it wasn't easy. She hadn't told Madam some of the names Pa had used, nor had she mentioned that Bo and some of his football buddies had some right ugly plans. If only Bo had understood when she had tried her darndest to explain -- about the numbers and the vibrations and everything ... Maybe, she thought with a wince, he was all riled up because he'd just finished telling her he had his uncle's Trans Am for the whole weekend. Carol Alice knew what that meant. After all, didn't she have a sister over in Hasty with living, screaming proof? She wondered if she'd sounded a mite relieved when she said she wasn't going out with him no more. She sighed noisily.