"01 - Malice In Maggody" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hess Joan)

"You and I know that," Sergeant Plover murmured, trying to include me in his mental meanderings. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you'd ask around town, see if anyone saw a state car or this Drake man." "I'll ask, but it won't do any good. He's probably holed up at some truck stop with a CB hooker or taking his sweet time driving up from Little Rock. Maybe his car broke down." I shrugged to emphasize my heartfelt disinterest in missing EPA men and state troopers.

"That has already occurred to us. He would have contacted someone or touched base if he experienced car trouble. We've checked all the motels on the highway between here and Little Rock, but he may have eluded us." Sergeant Plover touched base with the visor of his hat. "In any case, my visit is just a formality, Chief Hanks. We don't expect you to produce the missing man. You're hardly equipped to deal with that sort of thing, are you--you and your deputy, I mean?"

I wished I had Robert Drake stuffed in my bottom drawer; I really did. "Of course not," I said to the back of the state trooper. He was through the door before I could add an expletive or two.

Paulie slunk out of his corner. "Do you think you should talk that way to the state police? What if they. . .?"

"What if they what, Officer Buchanon? They can't take away my badge or make me turn in the radar gun." I broke the pencil and let the pieces clatter to the floor. "I would like to find the errant EPA man and hand him over on a silver platter to Sergeant Plover, however. What are the chances the missing man stopped in Maggody and found himself so in love with the town that he couldn't bear to leave?"

"About one in ten million." "Agreed." I sat and brooded for a few minutes, then took my feet off the desk and stood up. "Maybe Drake stopped to pick up a hitchhiker in a zebra suit. Carl murdered him, changed clothes, stole the car and is now driving to Starley City to sign their paper. He'll then report to work in Dallas Monday morning."

"I don't think so," Paulie said, frowning. "Most people won't stop for hitchhikers these days. Too dangerous. While I'm on patrol tonight, I'll ask around and find out if anyone saw the car go through town."

"Let me know if you find out anything." I returned to a bowl of cold chicken soup. I spent a delirious hour watching the news and learned that Carl was at large and possibly armed. Nobody had mentioned that tidbit to me. I spent another equally delirious hour at the front widow watching the pickup trucks and beat-up Chevies cruise up and down the highway, the kids hollering and honking at each other.

Even that paled. I put on my jacket, crammed my hands in my pockets, and walked down the road to Ruby Bee's, trying not to think of my former life, when I spent my Saturdays at intimate dinner parties, offering politically correct opinions over martinis. One beer, I decided, then bed.

Ruby Bee's was humming, as usual. The bar was blocked by a solid row of denim jackets topped with cowboy hats. Very little neck in between. The jukebox moaned and wailed at top volume so everyone would know he was having a good time. After a cursory cursory glance to see if I saw anybody I wanted to sit with, I elbowed a path to the bar.

If I had thought my mother would be delighted to see me out enjoying myself on a Saturday night, I was wrong. When she finally got around to me, she gave me the expression she had used when discussing Robin Buchanon's propensity for reproduction.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Having fun. Drinking beer and being sociable. You're the one who told me to get out and do something."

She gave me a funny look and a fast beer. "Here's your order. You don't have to stay here on my account, Arly. If you'd rather be home reading or something, don't feel obliged to linger."

It's heartwarming to know you're always welcome at your mother's. "Let me drink my beer before you throw me out, okay?"

"Nobody's going to throw you out. I just don't want you to put your nose out of joint because of some dumb thing I said yesterday." Ruby Bee began to wipe the counter with a vengeance. "I don't know why you started taking my advice, anyway. You never did before."

My eyes were getting rounder by the second. The lip of the beer bottle fit right in the circle my mouth made as I stared across the bar at a woman who was trying her damnedest to pick a fight with me. "What are you gabbling about?" I asked.

"Well, I told you not to run off to Noow Yark with a man that writes those television jingles, didn't I? I knew you wouldn't like that kind of life and those people." "And you were right, weren't you? I scampered back with my tail between my legs, just like you said I would. I let you say 'I told you so' five hundred times in the last eight months and never whimpered."

Ruby Bee wiped the counter hard enough to leave a rut in it. "I did tell you so. You should have listened to me." She was going to continue in that vein, but the cowboys around the bar were ready for another round. She snapped the rag under my nose and left. I picked up the bottle and squeezed away from the bar to find a table where I could analyze the conversation for hidden undertones.

I bumped into Estelle, who was carrying a tray with a forest of bottles. "Why are you working?" I yelled over the music. "Where's Jaylee?"

Estelle shrank back and stared at me as if I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead. When I repeated myself, she managed to come to her senses. "I'm just helping out for a few minutes; Jaylee was feeling poorly and went to lie down till she felt better. What are you doing here?"

I held up the beer bottle. "Same thing everyone else is doing, I guess. Is something wrong around here that I don't know about? Did Carl show up?"

Estelle jerked her head back and forth. "No, not a trace of him. I wouldn't lie about that, Arly. He's a real nasty fellow and he's likely to go after Jaylee and hurt her. I swear on a stack of Bibles I'll call you if Jaylee hears one word from Carl or sees one hair of him." That sounded sincere. I nodded and went to sit with a married couple I knew from highschool days. Alex and I drank beer, but Charlene stayed with RC colas in a glass, rubbing her swollen belly with a satisfied expression every now and then. I learned number three would be ripe in a couple of months and that they were hoping this one would be a boy so they could name it after Alex's father.

It wasn't especially exciting stuff, and I kept an eye on Estelle as she waited on tables and chatted up the customers. She, in turn, kept an eye on me, as if she thought I was going to pull out my gun and blast the jukebox. Alex and Charlene wandered home to rescue the babysitter, leaving me alone in the booth to wonder if I would end up like Raz's oldest girl.

After an hour, Jaylee suddenly appeared in a short apron and took the tray from Estelle. Jaylee looked unharmed; in fact, she looked as satisfied as Charlene had when touching her belly. I curled a finger at her for another beer, and when she approached, I asked her point-blank if she'd heard from Carl.