Land Sakes (33 page)

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Winchester, we'll pass on that information,” the chief said.

Rollins turned to Daisy. “Do you think Willie will still be at your place?”

She grinned. “He can't go no place. I disabled his motor—took out the spark plugs. Matter of fact,” she reached in her pocket and showed them the spark plugs, “they got wet and ruint.”

“Does he have a gun?”

“Not anymore. We turned his assault rifle over to Chief Kline.”

“Are there any more guns in the house?”

“There's a no 'count, rusty Winchester rifle without no bullets.”

He wrote all that down. “Now, tell me, how can we get to your house?”

“If you know the way, you can fly over there by seaplane or helicopter, but the way I go is by boat. My boat's right down here at the Auke Bay marina.”

Rollins and Dixon walked over to the window to talk. When they came back, Rollins said, “All right, Mrs. LeGrande, what say Agent Dixon and I rent a boat in the morning and follow you back to your place?”

“Fine with me.”

“Then I guess this is all for now, ladies,” Rollins said. “Chief Kline will have your statements typed up and will bring them here sometime tomorrow for you to sign.”

The three men stood up to leave.

“How much longer must we stay here?” Winnie asked, so tired her voice broke.

“Mrs. Winchester,” Robbins said, “we won't hold you here any longer than is necessary. As soon as we've apprehended these other two conspirators, Chief Kline will notify you. However, when you are released, it will be vitally necessary that you keep us informed as to your
whereabouts and that you be prepared to assist us further in this investigation if that becomes necessary.”

He turned to Daisy. “Mrs. LeGrande, we'll meet you at the marina first thing in the morning—no later than 9:00.”

The three thanked us for our help and left in a hurry.

Winnie sighed. “Percival, will you order dinner for us?”

“Certainly, madam. What would you like?”

“Anything—anything at all.” She was awful shaky trying to get up off the couch; he and I had to help her. “Percival, I need a drink.” Winnie was falling apart.

34

The next morning, Daisy came to our suite ready to meet the ABI agents at the marina. She was wearing the clothes she had on the day before, and although she had dried them overnight, her boots were still wet. I suggested she try using the blow-dryer on them, and she did that while we were waiting for room service to send up our breakfast.

Winnie was still asleep, and we didn't want to wake her. The ordeal we had been through had just about done her in.

Room service sent up waffles and sausages, juice and coffee. “Daisy,” I said as we were eating, “I want to thank you again for helping us escape. I believe with all my heart that you saved our lives. You truly earned the reward money you're going to get.”

“You think I'll get it? What if—”

“No ‘what ifs' about it. If need be, Winnie and I will see to it that you get it. What will you do with all that money?”

“Ha! I'll be on the next plane outta Juneau, get back to Mississippi as fast as I can. And as God is my witness, the next time I leave Mississippi I'll be bound for the Promised Land.”

“Daisy, are you sure you're going to heaven?”

“No. Is anybody sure?”

“I am.” And I tried to explain to her how she could be sure too, but that didn't seem to interest her. “Daisy, have you got a Bible?”

“Had one back in Mississippi.”

“Well, when you get back there, promise me you'll read it.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. When I get back, I will.”

The TV was on without the sound so as not to wake Winnie, and we watched the pictures showing Chief Kline's press conference. Then they showed a picture of Country Lane Inn, so I guess everybody knew where we were staying.

Daisy finished eating, gulped down the last of her coffee, and got up from the table.

“Wait a minute,” I said and went back to the telephone stand to write the address of Priscilla Home on a slip of paper. “Daisy, once you're settled, would you send me your address? I don't know where I'll be, but I used to work at Priscilla Home and they'll forward your letter to me.”

“I ain't much for writin', but I like to get a letter once in a while. Say you'll write me back?”

“I promise I'll write you as soon as I get your address.”

We said our good-byes. “You take care of yourself, Daisy.”

I watched her until she got on the elevator, then I closed the door. I felt a little sad about Daisy.
Maybe she will read her Bible. Maybe she'll write to me
.

With Winnie sleeping, there was nothing I had to do until the chief or Percival arrived, so I spent a little time going through my pocketbook and seeing what I could salvage. Anything plastic was still okay, but the Gospels of John and all the other stuff I had to throw away. I hung the bottomless pit on the showerhead, thinking it might dry, but I had my doubts.

After that, I went in my room and sat down to read and pray.

Winnie and I had eaten lunch before Percival came. As he came in the door with boxes and packages stacked one upon another, he looked about as frazzled as ever I had seen him. “They're all out there now,” he told us. I took the pillows off the couch to make room for the packages.

“Who?” Winnie asked.

“The press. They're all over the lobby—in the dining room—everywhere you look.”

“How do you suppose they got wind of our being here?” she asked.

“Maybe they followed Chief Kline to this motel yesterday, or maybe somebody working here got suspicious
that the Smith Sisters were you two and tipped them off. I sneaked in by taking the freight elevator... Well, here's what that Salvation Army lady and I bought.” He opened one of the boxes. Inside was a broad-brimmed hat for Winnie, which she put on her head. It looked like a perfect fit. “And here's this,” he said, opening another box and pulling out an elegant pantsuit. The material was the kind that won't wrinkle and packs easy. Winnie held it up to her, and we could see that it would fit her. To go with the pantsuit was a matching ocean blue cashmere coat with wide collar and deep pockets. It reached to the knees and was just what Winnie and I needed to hide our double-decker busts.

Percival looked relieved that what he had bought for Winnie was okay. “For you, Esmeralda, we picked this denim jacket and jeans.”

The jacket had looped brass buttons, and the jeans also had looped brass buttons down the side of the legs—much too stylish for my taste, but they were my size and I was glad to have anything to wear.

Percival was showing us several pairs of shoes with pocketbooks to match. Out of the lot Winnie and I each found a pair we could wear, and I was especially glad to have a new bag to replace my bottomless pit. “We'll leave what we can't use for the maids,” Winnie said.

“When do you think they'll let us leave?” I asked Percival.

“Tomorrow. The captain of the
Amsterdam
has Alphonso Pasquali in custody ready to be turned over to the authorities in Vancouver, and Chief Kline said as soon as Rollins and Dixon return with the other fellow,
we'll be free to go. The only thing he asks is that you keep him informed of your whereabouts in case he needs to get in touch. I took the liberty of buying our tickets for a flight out of here tomorrow at 11:41.”

I gathered up all the empty boxes and bags and stacked them in a corner. “Percival, you must be tired. Why don't you stretch out on the couch and rest a while?”

Well, he wouldn't do that, but he did sit in a chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. Winnie and I, dressed in our comfortable jumpsuits and bedroom slippers, sat down to talk.

“About letting Chief Kline know where we are,” I said. “Right now I don't know where I'll be.”

“Oh, you'll be with me,” Winnie said confidently.

“No. Once we get back, I want to see what I can do about getting work like I had before—housemother in a ministry for women.”

“Oh no. I want you to come with me. Do you know where I'm going? I'm going to move to Live Oaks, South Carolina. I want to make friends with all those nice people you've told me about.”

I nearly dropped my teeth. I couldn't imagine the wealthiest woman in America fitting in with my friends—not with Clara and them other Willing Workers. They would think Winnie was too strange to be living on the same planet, much less in Live Oaks. “What in the world would you do there, Winnie?” I asked.

“I have it all planned. I'm going to go into business there. I've learned all about it from TV. There used to be this show that took place in a diner, and the way the waitresses called out the orders—you know, they'd yell,
‘Shipwreck,' meaning scrambled eggs; ‘BLT,' for bacon, lettuce, and tomato; ‘Big boom booms, make 'em cry,' meaning big burgers with onions; or ‘Hold the mayo!' All of that fascinated me. There was this cook in a big white apron and wearing a chef's hat working behind the counter, and even though there was this order wheel full of tickets, never once did he look at the tickets; he kept all the orders in his head. You'd see him pouring waffle mix onto the waffle iron, popping toast in the toaster, slapping hamburger patties on the grill, minding the waffles, scrambling eggs, flipping the patties, tending the deep fryer, slapping the meat onto hamburger buns, putting cheese on this one, tomato and lettuce on another—all in a kind of steady rhythm. How he kept all the orders in his head is beyond me, but he did. With a burger he'd add fries hot out of the grease, quick wrap the bun in paper, and then you'd hear this
ding-ding
, which meant, ‘Pick up order.'

“I'm going to buy a diner and hire you, Esmeralda, as the short-order cook. It'll be fun, I tell you!”

I rolled my eyes at Percival. “I don't think so, Winnie.” The more Percival and I thought about that, the funnier it got. We laughed so hard Winnie realized her dream of having a Live Oaks diner was out of the question.

“Well, if not a diner, could you and I just live in Live Oaks? Esmeralda, I really need you to help me get over my drinking problem, and I think living in Live Oaks away from drinking people would help me more than anything else. I would build a big house, but if you wanted your own place, I would build you a cottage next door.”

“No, Winnie. Unless the Lord made it clear that he wanted me to do such as that, it wouldn't work. As for your drinking, only Jesus can help you, and what Splurgeon said is true, ‘He will never cease to help us until we cease to need.'”

Percival took his feet off the coffee table, leaned his elbows on his knees, and asked, “Esmeralda, how'd it come about that you started calling Mrs. Win
chus
ter Winnie? Never before have I ever heard anyone call her Winnie.”

“That's because no one ever has,” Winnie said. “I always wanted someone to call me Winnie, but even Esmeralda took a long time coming around to doing it. Percival, I'm sick and tired of being looked up to as someone important. I've never done anything in my life that was worth a dime.”

“Well,” he said, “you're not by yourself. I'm sick and tired of being Percival. I want to go back to being me, if you know what I mean.”

“You want us to call you Marvin?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, “but there's more to it than that. This role I've been playing is not for me. A man ought to be able to be himself—to live in the real world without pretense or shame.”

“You're not going to resign, are you?” Winnie asked.

“I don't know for sure. I don't think taking care of you and the dogs is what I want to do for the rest of my life. You can understand that, can't you, Mrs. Win
chus
ter?”

“Winchester,” she repeated. “Yes, I do understand, but Percival—”