Cherri Lucinda held up her hands. "Hey, I was just making conversation. There's no reason for everybody to get all hot and bothered, especially with so many miles in front of us. Mr. Malanac, you owe this man an apology. He's a working stiff like the rest of us."
"That's right," said Estelle. She was hoping Ruby Bee and the others would jump in, but everybody was pretending to be more interested in the chicken trucks grinding past. It was right cowardly of them, Estelle thought, and of Ruby Bee in particular. College students and entertainers might not know how to face down bullies, but barkeepers sure did.
She was about to say as much when she noticed Ruby Bee was giving Cherri Lucinda a downright bumfuzzled look, and to make things even more peculiar, Cherri Lucinda was looking toward the back of the van with the exact same expression.
"I apologize," Rex said grandly. "Please drive on."
Once they were back on their way to the interstate, Estelle nudged Ruby Bee and in a low voice, said, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I wish you'd stop pestering me, Estelle. There's not a single thing wrong-okay? If you ask one more time, I swear I'll get off this van at the first stop and hitchhike home."
"Who's gonna stop for a middle-aged woman carrying a green-and-orange duffel bag? You'd look like a fugitive from a health club."
Estelle thought she was being funny, but it was clear from Ruby Bee's snort that she didn't have the same opinion. There wasn't much to do but sit back and keep her fingers crossed that they'd survive for the next four days without bloodshed.
"Hey, Arly," Kevin said as he came into the PD, "have you seen Dahlia?"
"Yes," I said, finishing the last cold swallow of coffee. I set down the mug, stood up, and began to pull on my coat. "Give me a few days to think about it and I can come up with the precise moment I last saw her. It may have been outside the emergency room before they took her up to the maternity ward. I'll let you know." I slung a wool scarf around my neck and picked up my car key. "I'm in a bit of a rush, Kevin."
"I can see that." He gulped several times, causing his oversized Adam's apple to bobble like a buoy in a squall. "The thing is, Dahlia left right after she got the twins down for a nap, and she hasn't come back. I'm gittin' worried."
"You didn't leave them home alone, did you?"
"I'd sooner kiss Perkins's eldest than do a thing like that. I called my ma and she came over to watch ' em while I went looking for Dahlia. Ma said she called you a few days back, but you dint have any luck."
I hadn't exactly beaten the bushes until dark, but I had kept an eye out for her car as I followed one of the school buses to the county line to make sure everybody stopped when the children scrambled out of the bus. Upholding the law in Maggody usually doesn't require spurts of hand-to-hand combat or manhunts up on Cotter's Ridge. "No, I didn't see her that afternoon."
"What am I gonna do?" he said with a groan. "She ain't been herself since the babies came two months ago. One minute she's cooing and kissing their little toes, and the next she's locked in the bathroom, bleating like a calf left out in the cold. I don't know what to make of it, Arly"
He was so pathetic that I relented. "Sit down," I said, gesturing at the uncomfortable chair I keep for unwanted visitors. Kevin most assuredly fell into that category. "Have you talked to her?"
"I tried, but you know how she can be." He took out a wadded handkerchief and blew his nose. "The doctor sez it ain't unheard of for a new mother to feel kinda blue, 'specially when she's dog-tired all the time. Kevvie Junior and Rose Marie are perfect angels, but they still got to be fed and have their diapers changed and take their baths and-"
"I get the picture," I said. "When Dahlia left, where did she say she was going?"
"She said it weren't any of my business," he said, giving me a bewildered look. "This isn't the first time she's gone off like this. I'm scared that some day she won't come back from wherever she goes, and my sweetpeas will grow up without a ma's love. What'll I tell them when they get older?"
"How often has she been disappearing like this?"
"Two or three times a week. She stays gone all afternoon, then comes home and goes straight to the kitchen to make supper. If I so much as try to give her a peck on the cheek, she threatens to knock me silly with the skillet."
I was mildly intrigued. "Any particular days?"
Kevin screwed up his face as he considered my question. "I reckon not, but never on Sundays. We always have dinner at my ma and pa's and spend the afternoon there. Ma turned my old bedroom into a nursery. Kevvie Junior's crib has a blue blanket and Rose Marie's has a pink one. There's a sampler on the wall that sez-"
"It sounds charming," I said. "Are you sure Dahlia hasn't said anything about where she goes? She's never mentioned a name?"
His jaw dropped, giving me a distasteful view of his stained teeth. "You don't think she's seeing some fellow, do you? She wouldn't do something like that, Arly. We have spats like all married folks, but she ain't the kind to turn her back on her babies and her lovin' husband."
"No, Kevin," I said, trying without success to keep the irritation out of my voice, "that's one thing I most definitely was not thinking. It's more likely that she feels the need to get away for a few hours and is doing nothing more than driving around the county."
"Then why's she more ornery than a polecat when she gets home?"
"All I can suggest you do is ask her."
"And git my face squashed with a skillet," he said morosely. "I thought what with you being a trained police officer, you should be able to do something."
I readjusted the scarf. "I can't arrest her unless she's sticking up liquor stores on her afternoons off. I have to leave now. I was supposed to meet someone in Scurgeton five minutes ago."
Kevin thrust out what little chin he had. "You got to promise to talk to her. You can act like you just dropped by to see the babies, then trick her into spillin' the beans. I cain't go on with her being mad at me all evening and rolling over in bed and knocking my hand away if I so much as dare to cuddle up. It ain't healthy."
"All right," I said, "I'll stop by in the morning. You may continue to sit there the rest of the afternoon if it amuses you. Close the door when you leave."
I went out to the car, not at all sure I wouldn't find him there when I got back, snuffling and sniveling as he pictured his three-hundred-pound love goddess in the arms of a swarthy stranger. Kevin's mind, in the rare moments when it's activated, can come up with some damn peculiar ideas.
Scurgeton's population was half that of Maggody's, and its appearance even bleaker. I drove past a couple of trailers and a gas station nearly hidden behind a mountain of tires, found a faded sign that read " Mount Zion Church," and turned down the indicated dirt road. The church, a squat concrete block structure with a flat roof, was a hundred feet from the intersection and ringed on three sides by stark trees. All it needed to perfect its resemblance to a prison was a fence topped with concertina wire.
I parked behind a sedan, buffed my badge with my coat cuff, and tried to simulate the demeanor of a qualified and competent law enforcement agent who was eager to serve the public. Which, at that moment, I was anything but.
The interior of the church was no more inviting than its exterior. The furnishings consisted of metal chairs and a wooden pulpit. On the back wall was a framed depiction of Jesus surrounded by sheep. An elderly man with thin white hair, a beakish nose, and hunched shoulders was pacing behind the pulpit; as I approached, he halted and gave me a suspicious look.