there.”
“Or what you’re doing,” I said drily. I waited in case he wanted to say anything further, then added, “My old-fashioned phone will work if you want to call the electric co-op and try to get an idea of how long it’s going to take them. If I were you, I’d go find a hotel in Farberville.”
Before he could reply, Kevin Buchanon came galloping up the road, his arms flapping like a maniacal rooster. “Arly! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week, but ever’time I come by, the office was empty. Did you know the electricity’s out?”
“Is that what you came to ask me, Kevin?” I said.
“No,” he panted, then bent over to catch his breath. “It’s about my ma.”
“Is she somehow responsible for this?”
He gave me a startled look. “How could she be? She ain’t an electrician, for pity’s sake. Why would you think such a thing?”
“Calm down,” I said. “What’s this about your mother?”
“I’m a doctor,” Randall volunteered. “Is she in need of emergency medical care?”
Kevin straightened up. “Heck, no. I mean, she might be, but since nobody knows where she is, I don’t see how you kin help, but I thank you all the same for offering.” He looked at me. “This morning when Pa got up, she was gone. Her car, too. It ain’t like her, unless it had something to do with Dahlia’s granny. Ma ain’t much happier than Dahlia about this mess. And Pa’s storming around the house on account of her not being there to cook his meals. I don’t reckon he’s had anything but cheese sandwiches all day.”
“He’ll survive,” I said. “Okay, Eileen left sometime before dawn, in her car. Did she take anything with her, like clothes and a suitcase?”
“Pa said that he dint think she took anything. He ain’t sure, but he sez her half of the closet looks the same as always.”
Randall tilted his head. “She didn’t leave a note?”
“Nuthin’,” Kevin said with a shrug.
“Well, that’s a hopeful sign. Those planning to commit suicide almost always leave a note either begging forgiveness or casting blame on others.”
Kevin gulped so loudly that he might have alarmed a possum on Cotter’s Ridge. “You saying she’s gone off to commit suicide? My ma wouldn’t do that. ’Course, she’s been mighty frazzled ever since Dahlia’s taken to calling her all day long.”
“She’s an adult, Kevin,” I said. “She left voluntarily, and she hasn’t been gone twenty-four hours. There’s nothing I can do. It sounds as though you should go home and help Dahlia.” Since I knew what that problem involved, I didn’t bother to elaborate for Randall’s edification. Not that his initial impression of the citizens of Maggody could sink any lower.
“This is all the county judges’ fault,” Kevin said darkly.
I gave him a gentle nudge. “I can’t do anything about that, either. Call me tomorrow if your mother hasn’t come back.” The stoplight came to life, and I took the green light as an omen. “Go on, Kevin.”
“What about my pa? He ain’t had a decent meal all day.”
“Take him home with you for supper, or send him to Ruby Bee’s. Better yet, tell him to fix his own damn supper. If he can drive a tractor, he can open a can of pork ’n’ beans.”
Kevin didn’t look convinced (and I doubt I did, either), but he turned around and trudged up the road.
Brenda Skiller came out of the PD, where the lights were shining as best they could, since the town council insists that I use 40-watt bulbs—and not out of concern for the environment. “I called the foundation, and the power is back. Let’s go, Randall. We’ll be up half the night as it is. I brought some high-protein bars in my suitcase.” She gave me a halfhearted smile. “Thank you again for your kind offer, Chief Hanks. I have a feeling we’re not welcome here.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right,” I said, “but not solely because of Randall’s ethnic background. People are upset
“Or what you’re doing,” I said drily. I waited in case he wanted to say anything further, then added, “My old-fashioned phone will work if you want to call the electric co-op and try to get an idea of how long it’s going to take them. If I were you, I’d go find a hotel in Farberville.”
Before he could reply, Kevin Buchanon came galloping up the road, his arms flapping like a maniacal rooster. “Arly! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week, but ever’time I come by, the office was empty. Did you know the electricity’s out?”
“Is that what you came to ask me, Kevin?” I said.
“No,” he panted, then bent over to catch his breath. “It’s about my ma.”
“Is she somehow responsible for this?”
He gave me a startled look. “How could she be? She ain’t an electrician, for pity’s sake. Why would you think such a thing?”
“Calm down,” I said. “What’s this about your mother?”
“I’m a doctor,” Randall volunteered. “Is she in need of emergency medical care?”
Kevin straightened up. “Heck, no. I mean, she might be, but since nobody knows where she is, I don’t see how you kin help, but I thank you all the same for offering.” He looked at me. “This morning when Pa got up, she was gone. Her car, too. It ain’t like her, unless it had something to do with Dahlia’s granny. Ma ain’t much happier than Dahlia about this mess. And Pa’s storming around the house on account of her not being there to cook his meals. I don’t reckon he’s had anything but cheese sandwiches all day.”
“He’ll survive,” I said. “Okay, Eileen left sometime before dawn, in her car. Did she take anything with her, like clothes and a suitcase?”
“Pa said that he dint think she took anything. He ain’t sure, but he sez her half of the closet looks the same as always.”
Randall tilted his head. “She didn’t leave a note?”
“Nuthin’,” Kevin said with a shrug.
“Well, that’s a hopeful sign. Those planning to commit suicide almost always leave a note either begging forgiveness or casting blame on others.”
Kevin gulped so loudly that he might have alarmed a possum on Cotter’s Ridge. “You saying she’s gone off to commit suicide? My ma wouldn’t do that. ’Course, she’s been mighty frazzled ever since Dahlia’s taken to calling her all day long.”
“She’s an adult, Kevin,” I said. “She left voluntarily, and she hasn’t been gone twenty-four hours. There’s nothing I can do. It sounds as though you should go home and help Dahlia.” Since I knew what that problem involved, I didn’t bother to elaborate for Randall’s edification. Not that his initial impression of the citizens of Maggody could sink any lower.
“This is all the county judges’ fault,” Kevin said darkly.
I gave him a gentle nudge. “I can’t do anything about that, either. Call me tomorrow if your mother hasn’t come back.” The stoplight came to life, and I took the green light as an omen. “Go on, Kevin.”
“What about my pa? He ain’t had a decent meal all day.”
“Take him home with you for supper, or send him to Ruby Bee’s. Better yet, tell him to fix his own damn supper. If he can drive a tractor, he can open a can of pork ’n’ beans.”
Kevin didn’t look convinced (and I doubt I did, either), but he turned around and trudged up the road.
Brenda Skiller came out of the PD, where the lights were shining as best they could, since the town council insists that I use 40-watt bulbs—and not out of concern for the environment. “I called the foundation, and the power is back. Let’s go, Randall. We’ll be up half the night as it is. I brought some high-protein bars in my suitcase.” She gave me a halfhearted smile. “Thank you again for your kind offer, Chief Hanks. I have a feeling we’re not welcome here.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right,” I said, “but not solely because of Randall’s ethnic background. People are upset
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