CHAPTER 16

The next morning I phoned the Bolivar County Sheriff's Department. Posing as a reporter for a Memphis television station, I asked a couple of airweight questions about bodies pulled from the river. A woman had been found, a deputy said, but hadn't been identified. There'd be no further comment pending an autopsy.

I called another meeting at the country place.

"It's about your friends, the ones you've been looking for," I said cautiously, talking to Marvel on the telephone.

I went to the meeting alone, LuEllen shying away again. John and Marvel showed up at the rendezvous, tense, expectant.

"What? What?" Marvel asked as I came through the door.

"It's about Harold and Sherrie. I think they've been found," I said. "They're dead."

"Oh, no," she whispered, sinking onto a couch. John stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder. He had an odd look on his face: I wasn't fooling him, not entirely.

"Bobby called. He's been doing a data search. and he found that the Bolivar County Sheriff's Department has pulled a couple of bodies out of the river near Rosedale. A man and a woman. Both black. The man was dressed like you said Harold was. The woman, I don't know. they said a yellow blouse."

"It's them," Marvel said. She was dry-eyed, but on the thin edge of an explosion. "She was wearing yellow; her mama told us that."

"We've got to let the cops know; we've got to bring it back to Longstreet," I said.

"What do you want us to do?" John asked.

"I want you to get Marvel. or somebody. down there and identify the bodies. Tell the deputies you heard it on the radio. Find out how they were killed. Tell the deputies what you suspect – that Harold had gone to visit Dessusdelit – but tell them you don't know why. Tell them that Harold had some information about this political scandal that's going on. That'll put a lot of pressure on Dessusdelit."

"All right. I can do that," Marvel said. Her fingers were dug an inch deep into the tough fabric of the couch arm.

"I'll go with her," John said. "What are you doing?"

"We're getting ready to leave. We're about done, but I'll tell you what. You better get back here quick if Brooking Davis and Reverend Dodge are going to elect you to the council. Hill and Ballem will most likely quit this afternoon."

"What'd you do to them?" she asked.

"Squeezed them," I said.

"With Harold and Sherrie?" she asked.

"Look," I said, "I didn't want anybody to get hurt, but some people got hurt anyway. We're using Harold as a little extra encouragement for Hill to leave, above and beyond the computer material. That's all."

She was no longer sure of me, and her face showed it.

"If you manipulated Harold."

"You know what happened to Harold," I said harshly, "because you sent him. We aren't playing fuckin' Ping-Pong here. We're ruining some people's lives, and they are hard people. They'll fight back."

"If I'd known."

"Nobody can know," I said. I looked at John. "You keep her close. Hill, Ballem, and the others, St. Thomas, are in a pressure cooker. Hill's a psycho. I can't predict what he'll do."

I stopped at a supermarket on the edge of town and stocked up with sandwich meat, bread, soup, pasta, cereal, and milk for the run upriver. When I got back to the boat, LuEllen was waiting. So was Dessusdelit.

"Mr. Kidd," she said as I stepped aboard.

"Miz Dessusdelit. What can I do for you?"

"You know about our troubles?"

"Yes, after our talk. and I was at the meeting."

"Our animal control officer, Duane Hill-"

"I know him."

"He believes you have something to do with it, that I've been a fool with these tarot readings, with the crystal ball."

She sounded like a magnolia, her voice slow and dreamy, something out of a Tennessee Williams play, like Blanche. And she was pleading.

"That's bullshit, if you'll pardon the expression. You know about my history with Hill?"

"I believe there was some kind of confrontation on the river."

"It goes farther back than that. He attacked me, for no reason at all, outside the Holiday Inn. He was drunk. Actually he called LuEllen a rather unacceptable four-letter word, which I won't repeat, and I was forced to respond. There was a fight, and he lost. Then Mr. Bell intervened and sent him on his way. Ever since then he has been watching me, and yesterday he tried to run us down with a speedboat and board our yacht. I believe he was carrying a gun. Personally, Miz Dessusdelit, I think he's crazy."

"He says you're in league with a local Communist, a Negro woman-"

"Miz Dessusdelit, I don't know what to say, other than the man needs treatment. I don't know anybody in this town, other than you and a few people I've encountered casually. And frankly Hill frightens me. He's crazy. He's so crazy that LuEllen and I are leaving. Because of him."

She thought it over and then said, "I don't know what to do."

"I wish I could help you, but we've got to go."

She thought for a moment more, then sighed and said, "Once more with the cards?"

We weren't set up to cold-deck her. I don't even know what cards we would have planted. As far as I was concerned, she was in a box, and there was no way out. But LuEllen, standing behind me, poked me in the spine, and I nodded at Dessusdelit.

"All right."

In the cabin I got the deck from the Polish box, unwrapped it from its silk binding, and handed it to her.

"I still don't know how far to trust you, Mr. Kidd," she said, still with the dreamy expression.

"Then don't trust me," I said harshly. "You know that tarot spreads are artificial constructs. So let's skip the spread. Pull out four cards and lay them down: past, present, future, and final outcome. You can do your own interpretation if you like. If you have questions, I'll try to answer them."

A spark showed in her eyes as she stared across the table at me. "Yes," she said. She shuffled the deck seven times, then spread it across the table. Her hand hovered for a moment and pulled a card.

"Past," she said, and flipped it over.

The Devil. A man with a goat's head and horns and bat wings, with a man and a woman chained to his throne. Usually interpreted as bondage to base emotions-greed, for example, or the urge to personal power.

"Present," she said, and flipped the second card.

The Nine of Swords. A woman sitting up in bed, weeping, nine swords racked on the wall behind her. She's suffering great losses of all kinds, as are people who are important to her. All of it's accompanied by great anguish. Dessusdelit nodded.

"Future," she said, and flipped the third card.

The Ten of Swords. The body of a man on the ground, with ten swords protruding from his back and neck. Final ruin.

"Final outcome," she said. Her hand paused at one card, but she stopped without turning it, moved to another, paused again, and flipped it over.

The Tower of Destruction. The lightning bolt striking the tower.

"My old friend," she said weakly. "I've seen it a lot lately."

I reached forward and turned over the card she'd almost chosen. The Sun. A card of success.

"You almost chose this card. Why didn't you?"

"I. don't know," she said.

"You made a choice in the recent past that perhaps led to these problems you're experiencing. That's reflected in this choice, isn't it?"

She was silent for a moment, staring unseeingly at the cards, then nodded.

"I made the choice," she said.

It was as close as anyone would ever get to a confession. Hill and St. Thomas had killed Harold and Sherrie. But Dessusdelit had made the call. The mayor got shakily to her feet and started toward the door. LuEllen, solicitous, asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Dessusdelit said.