Minnie was so excited to meet the Queen Mother that after she did the curtsy they had taught her, which on a three-hundred-pound woman was more of a dip, she clapped her hands in delight at the very sight of her. “Well, if you are not just the cutest thing in your little crown. I know we are not supposed to touch you but I could just hug your neck.” The Queen Mother, fascinated with the large American woman in the red dress and rhinestone glasses with her hair piled up almost a foot high on her head, listened to her prattling on. “You know, you may not know it, but you and me has a lot in common. Your girl turned out to be a queen and mine is the governor of the state of Missouri. So we must have did something right, didn’t we, honey?”
“Indeed we did, Mrs. Oatman,” said the Queen Mother, smiling as she moved on to greet Rosemary Clooney.
As to the ongoing mystery of what had happened to Hamm Sparks, Jake Spurling had far from given up. He had worked long and hard for the past three years and in January 1970 there was finally a break in the case.
When Jake received the call about the abandoned hearse down in Louisiana he ordered it and the entire area cordoned off. Some kids who had been down at the river playing found it in the woods. It was rusty and the upholstery was ripped with age. He had his men go over it from top to bottom. The hearse, an older model, was traced back to the Cecil Figgs Mortuaries car lot in Kansas City, where all the older models were kept. A check on it revealed that a hearse had gone missing sometime after Hamm and the men had disappeared. The man in charge of the lot at the time was located and questioned about why he had not reported it. He said those old hearses were stolen all the time by kids wanting to joy-ride, so he’d figured that was what had happened. Jake flew in to Louisiana and walked around the area but there was nothing there except an old falling-down boat dock.
Jake was curious about who it belonged to and had it traced. His ears pricked up when the name was found. The registered owner of the land and the boat dock in 1967 was Mr. Buddy Leo, uncle of Mr. Anthony Leo of Kansas City, Missouri. A man with definite ties to organized crime. It might turn out to be nothing at all but it was too much of a coincidence, as far as Jake was concerned. The boat dock had not been too far from Hamm’s last known location in Jackson. Maybe he had come by boat. After a long search it was discovered that in May 1959, a brand-new thirty-five-foot Chris-Craft cabin cruiser had been purchased in Kansas City in the name of Mrs. Jeannie Micelli, sister of Mr. Anthony Leo. This might be the connection Jake was looking for. The abandoned hearse, the boat dock, and the missing men were all connected back to Kansas City.
Unfortunately, neither Mr. Leo was available for questioning. The uncle had died of old age and, as was often the case, Mr. Anthony Leo, although younger, was no longer alive and well. In 1968 he had accidentally stepped in front of five rapidly speeding bullets, which had proved to be fatal. When questioned, his sister, Mrs. Micelli, said she had never owned a boat. Which was probably true. These men were known to buy things they did not want traced by using other people’s names.
When Jake questioned Betty Raye, she told him she remembered that Hamm had mentioned a few times that Rodney had a friend with a boat that they sometimes borrowed.
“Is that so?” said Jake.
“Yes. I think he took the boys with him a few times.”
Hamm Jr. remembered it quite well.
Jake was pleased. Now we’re getting somewhere, he thought.
The next thing was to find out what had happened to the boat.
Tot’s Vacation
ON APRIL 21 Aunt Elner started the phone conversation, as she often did, without even saying hello first.
“Did you hear what happened to Poor Tot?”
Norma knew that whatever it was, it was not going to be good. “Don’t even tell me.”
Aunt Elner ignored her.
“You know, she’s been miserable with that broken finger and so as long as she couldn’t fix hair she let Dwayne Junior talk her into going to Florida with him and then that fish almost bit her right leg off—she’s in the hospital right now, poor thing, and she was not even fishing at the time. Said she was downstairs in the galley of the boat minding her own business, not bothering a soul, just trying to fix herself a grilled-cheese sandwich, when the fish got her.”
Norma sat down. “What fish?”
“I don’t know but it was mad at having been jerked out of the water, I can tell you that.”
“Who told you this?”
“Verbena, she just got off the phone with Tot this very second.”
Norma said, “Aunt Elner, I’ll call you right back,” and dialed Verbena’s number down at the cleaners to get the story firsthand. Verbena picked up: “Blue Ribbon.”
“It’s Norma.”
“I was just calling you but your line was busy.”
“Did you tell Aunt Elner that Tot was bitten by a fish?”
“No, I said she was stuck by a fish while making a grilled-cheese sandwich. I never said she was bitten.”
“Why would she get stuck by a fish if she was downstairs cooking?”
“Because the fish just came down the stairs looking for her, I guess.”
“But why?”
“Because she has the worst luck of anybody I know, that’s why.”
“How did it happen?”
“She was down in Florida on this fishing boat that Dwayne Junior and a friend of his had rented to try and cheer her up. That’s what he said but he just wanted to go himself, if you ask me. Anyhow, after three hours of sitting upstairs in the hot sun, not catching a thing, she said, ‘I’m hungry, I’m going down and fix myself a grilled-cheese sandwich. Does anybody else want one?’ They said no and the next thing she knew, just as she was getting ready to flip her sandwich, this big fish came flying down the stairs. Dwayne had jerked it out of the water too hard and it flew right over his head and when it hit the deck it took a flying leap and came sailing down the stairs and stabbed Poor Tot in the thigh with its nose.”
“Oh my God, it must have scared her to death.”
“She said it was certainly a surprise to look down and see a strange fish sticking out of her leg. The captain packed her leg in ice and took her all the way to Pensacola to get the thing removed. She said she felt like a fool checking in with a fish sticking out of her leg but the captain said that they didn’t dare pull it out on their own. It could cause too much damage.”
“Damage to who?”
“The fish, I guess—Dwayne Junior is having it mounted as a souvenir of their trip.”
“What kind of fish was it?”
Norma could hear Verbena shuffling papers. “I wrote it down. Here it is. It was identified as a needle-nosed houndfish. They took her picture for the paper.”
“Is she all right?”
“Oh yes. Besides having six stitches and having to get shots.”
“Can’t she sue somebody?”
“Norma, who’s she going to sue? She said the fishing-boat people won’t cover it. They said it was an act of God. . . . So who can she sue, the Gulf of Mexico? Or the fish? No, she just got stuck in more ways than one, so she’s coming home tomorrow. She didn’t have but one day of vacation. If she was miserable when she left, you can imagine how she must feel now.”
“Poor Tot.”
The next day the citizens of Pensacola saw a picture of a Mrs. Whooten being wheeled into the emergency room under a caption that read WOMAN SPEARED BY FLYING FISH. People in Elmwood Springs tried not to bring it up but when they did, all Tot would say was “It’s put me off tuna fish, I can tell you that.”
To the Public at Large:
My recent experience has taught me an expensive lesson and I am passing it on as a warning. Do not ever call an ambulance if you can help it. Believe me, I could have gone to Europe twice for the money it cost me to ride no more than six blocks in one (it would have to be rush hour) but they did not take that fact into account. They were as nice as they could be and I was nice back, but at the time I didn’t know I was being charged a small fortune, which I am still paying on, and now my insurance has gone sky-high as well. I only had a leg injury but they made me wear a collar on my neck and on the way to the hospital they gave me oxygen in my nose (that I did not need) and kept taking my blood pressure and temperature every two minutes. Not only that, they were training the boy that was taking it how to do it and I did not even get a discount. But that was not the worst of it. Once they get you to the emergency room, look out. Those emergency room doctors are expensive and they charge you by the second. I was X-rayed and CAT-scanned from stem to stern, pulled from one place to another the whole time almost freezing to death. They keep it as cold as ice in there. In my case I was sent to surgery to have the fish removed (you don’t want to know what that set me back) and I was given a local anesthetic, so I was not able to walk out and they got to keep me overnight. If I were to tell you what they charged me for just the use of the bed, a couple of aspirins, and a tranquilizer, it would scare you to death. Don’t be lulled into thinking that your insurance covers everything. It doesn’t. My advice is this: if you can possibly walk, drive, call a cab, or take a bus to the emergency room, do it. Do not call 911 unless you are out cold.