"My name's Maggie Reid," I said, and watched her reaction. Her head shot back up, and her eyes studied me, a startled expression on her face.
"Maggie Reid?"
Vernell had told her about me. I could see that as plain as day. I decided to hit it head on.
"Vernell's my ex-husband," I said. "Your husband was found in his car last night."
Bess King made no more pretense of looking at the papers in front of her. "You're Vernell's ex?" she asked.
"That's why I'm here. I need to find him."
Bess's eyes narrowed. "Why did you come to me? What makes you think I'd know where he is?"
I hated to do it. She seemed like a nice woman under an incredible amount of strain, but I didn't know her. What if she'd done something with Vernell? What if she were lying to me and hiding him? Worse yet, what if she'd killed her husband?
"I'm coming to you because you were the last one to see him, Friday morning, at the Twilight Motel." I said it hard, like maybe she had some explaining to do.
Bess King's face crumpled. "Go away," she said softly.
"Where's Vernell?" I demanded. "Your husband's dead. You were fooling around with Vernell, and now he's gone. So far, honey, you're looking like the missing link."
Through the door leading out to the bay, I could hear the sound of the impact wrench, loosening tires. She wasn't alone on the lot. If she needed reinforcements, all she had to do was call out.
"You don't know anything," Bess said, her voice tight and angry. "Vernell Spivey is the kindest man to ever walk the face of this earth. If it weren't for him…" Her voice trailed off and tears filled her eyes. "If it weren't for him, my life would've stayed the living hell it's been since I met Nosmo King."
I stepped back toward the counter. Her hand jumped instinctively to a shelf just beneath the cash register. She was reaching for a gun.
"Hey," I said, softly, raising my hands, palms up. "I don't think you understand. I'm just worried about Vernell." I smiled a little. "I guess I'm like his second big sister nowadays. I worry about him. His daughter is worried sick about her daddy. Vernell didn't make payroll this week, and that's just not like him." I edged a little closer. "I just want to know if you've seen him, but I guess you haven't."
I dropped my hands slowly and looked at her. "I don't know what you and Vernell had going on, and frankly, I don't really care. If you're good to him, that's fine. But you gotta admit, finding your husband dead in Vernell's car looks bad for you and Vernell."
Bess stood there, watching me, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.
"I was hoping you'd be able to help me, or at least talk to me woman to woman, but I guess you're not the kind, and I'm sorry for it."
With that I started to walk away. My hand was actually on the door handle when she called out.
"Wait! I just didn't…" Her voice trailed off and I turned back. "I wasn't sure I should talk to you, that's all. I wasn't sure how you'd feel, or what you'd think."
"All right," I said. "Let's talk."
Bess closed her thick notebook with a sigh. "I'm trying to make heads or tails of what's going on with this place," she said. "I need to know if I can cover the funeral, but I guess that's a joke. From the looks of it, I could buy Nosmo his own cemetery. Who knew a gas station in this part of town could make that much money?" She looked past me, out at the pumps. "Shoot! Look at that! Now that's just what I don't need. That man's turning into a real pest." A familiar unmarked sedan was pulling into the parking lot. Marshall Weathers was rolling in on us like a thick fog. If he found the two of us talking, there'd be no telling what he'd think.
"Well, he sure doesn't need to find me here," I muttered.
Maybe he wouldn't notice my car. Old white VWs were common. Maybe if I slipped out the side door and drove around to the car wash, he'd come and go.
"Listen," I said, "I'll go wash the car and check back. If he's gone we'll talk, if not, I'll ride back by in a few minutes."
Weathers was getting out of his car, staring right at me, as if he could see my face through the tinted windows. I turned and fled just as he stepped up onto the stoop and put his hand on the door.
I could hear the bell on the door tinkle as I made a quick dash to my car. I slunk down into the driver's seat, started her up, and pulled up the incline and around back, out of Weathers's sight, to the car wash entrance. I pushed my token into the slot, hit the button, and lined the car up with the automatic tracks.
The lights came on, water started squirting out from every possible surface of the interior walls, and the brushes began to whir. I reached up to crank the handle and close the sunroof as the car began moving forward. I turned and turned, moving the panel slowly forward, but just as the hood touched the front water jets, the handle came off in my hands.
"No!" I yelled. I tried furiously to reattach the handle, but there was nothing for it. The screw was stripped. I was headed into a deluxe hot wash and wax with my sunroof open a good four inches.
I reached up and tugged on the panel. It groaned and moved slowly forward, one inch. There was no budging it after that. The water moved slowly up the hood of the car, smacking into the windshield, suds foaming up like billowy clouds. I reached into the glove compartment, hoping for a map or something to cover the opening, but remembered too late that I'd cleaned the entire car out only a few days before. I leaned back and moaned. There was nothing I could do. Not one thing. I was about to have the complete works, all three minutes' worth, wash, wax, and dry.
Water started streaming through the opening in the sunroof, hitting my hair and raining down across my face.
"Oh man," I sighed, "is it my karma? Have I ticked somebody off?"
That was when the hot wax light sprang on and little squirts of slippery thick liquid began hitting my head. I learned something then. When hot moist air hits the cooler interior air of, say, a car, it begins to form a cloud. A misty fog thickened as I rolled forward, covering my windshield and the side windows.
The fuzzy sweater I'd thrown on as I left the house began to clump up and resemble a wet alley cat. Little beads of wax stuck to it, clinging like sequins. There was nothing to do but sit and wait for the blow dryer to begin its job.
A huge gust of wind from the dryer blew through the sunroof, whipping my hair into a red tangle. The cloud began to clear and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was almost through. With a final blast of air, the car wash pushed me out into the late afternoon sunlight, leaving me poised at the top of the little hill, overlooking the parking lot. At my angle I couldn't tell if Weathers was gone.
But that wasn't really the issue. As I started to roll forward, down the hill, water that had been blown back into the sunroof's housing came rushing forward, like a waterfall, raining down right on top of my head.
I screamed, slamming on the brakes instinctively. The car stopped at the bottom of the hill as the last gush of water escaped and covered me. Another cloud billowed up, and I leaned forward to rest my head on the steering wheel.
"Why me?" I muttered. "I was only trying to help."
I sat there for a moment, remembered Weathers, and sat up. But of course, it was too late. He and Bess King had left the Gas and Go office and moved outside to see what kind of idiot would run her car through the car wash with an open sunroof. Bess's eyes were wide-open dinner plates. Marshall Weathers, on the other hand, was smirking.