"Ruby Bee doesn't have anything wrong with her?" Estelle retorted, then realized she'd spoken too loudly and lowered her voice. "This is sweet of you, though, and we'd dearly appreciate a couple of sandwiches and cans of soda pop. Are you sure it's safe to walk around here?"

"No, but Stormy's going whether or not I do, and I figure two's safer than one. I was gonna ask Todd the Clod to go with us, but I knocked on their door and nobody answered. Same with that professor, although I don't think he could scare off a wino, much less a mugger. About all he could do is recite poetry."

"Come inside so I can get you some money," Estelle said, keeping her fingers crossed that Ruby Bee'd stay in the bathroom for a few more minutes. "You think ten will cover it?"

"Yeah." Cherri Lucinda stopped in front of the mirror and scowled at her reflection. "I can't believe all the gray hairs I'm getting at my age. Didn't you say you're a cosmetologist?Maybe one night you could put on a rinse for me, and trim the split ends while you're at it."

Estelle was going to point out that as a professional, she expected to get paid, but then she thought about the sandwiches and soda pops Cherri Lucinda had offered to fetch. "I don't have my scissors with me. Otherwise, I'd be tickled pink."

"You think I'd look better with bangs?"

"I'm not so sure. Your face is already kinda plump, and bangs tend to-" She stopped as a fist pounded the door. "Oh my gawd, what should we do? What if it's some drug-crazed rapist?"

"Plump?" said Cherri Lucinda.

Ruby Bee poked her head out of the bathroom. "What in tarnation's going on, Estelle? Stop gaping like a wide-mouthed bass and open the door before whoever it is breaks it down?"

Estelle opened the door. Before she could so much as get out a squeak, Stormy stumbled into the room, shoved her aside, and slammed the door shut. Once she'd locked the deadbolt, she seemed to notice her stunned audience.

"Sorry if I scared you all," she said with a weak laugh that wouldn't have fooled a newborn baby. "I was waiting for Cherri Lucinda out by the van, and all of a sudden…"

Estelle felt her knees begin to buckle. "A drug-crazed rapist attacked you? Are you hurt?"

"You'd better sit down," said Cherri Lucinda. "You don't want to faint and bang your head and have to get stitches. When that happened to me, they shaved half my head and I had to wear a wig for three months."

"Poppycock," Ruby Bee muttered as she closed the bathroom door.

Stormy sat on a chair. "Nobody attacked me. I just got real nervous on account of all these lowlifes lurking nearby. Considering what we're paying, you'd think we could stay somewhere halfway decent. I don't care if Elvis was born here, much less spent one night more than forty years ago. It ain't like there's a rack of postcards in the office." She went to the window, peered through the dusty slats of the venetian blind, and after a moment, said, "My imagination must be earning time-and-a-half. There's nobody out there."

Estelle went over to see for herself, nearly tripping over a duffel bag on the floor. Hers and Ruby Bee's were next to the bed where she'd set them earlier. "Whose is this?" she asked.

Stormy picked it up. "Mine. I was afraid to leave it in the room. You never know who might have a key." She looked at Cherri Lucinda. "You ready to go? I'd just as soon not be out there in the combat zone after dark."

"Here's some money," said Estelle. "Any kind of sandwich will be fine, as long as it's not barbecue. Ruby Bee seems to be experiencing a touch of something, and I don't think she needs to be eating anything spicy."

"I heard that" the accused roared from inside the bathroom.

Cherri Lucinda took the bills from Estelle and unlocked the door. "God willing, we'll be back in half an hour. You might ought to use the chain as well as the deadbolt. Those two guys on the balcony are still hanging around."

As soon as they'd left, Estelle relocked the door and made sure the chain was secured, then moved back to the window to watch their progress across the parking lot. In spite of Stormy's earlier panic and Cherri Lucinda's warning, nobody seemed to be loitering in the vicinity of the van.

"I don't know why I let you badger me into this," Ruby Bee said as she came out of the bathroom. "The Flamingo may not be the fanciest motel in Stump County, but I make sure to scrub the commodes and collect dirty towels off the floor. When we pull back the bedspread, we're likely to find bloodstains. Maybe Elvis died here."

Estelle ordered herself not to so much as glance at the bed. "Everybody knows he died at Graceland. He's buried there, too, so we don't have to worry about his ghost dropping by for a chat long about midnight. Which side do you want?"

"All I want is a place to stretch out for a few minutes. If I had my druthers, it'd be on my own bed in Maggody, but that ain't going to happen for another three nights."

She didn't pull back the bedspread, but instead lay down, folded her hands, and closed her eyes like she was the featured attraction at a funeral. Estelle figured it wouldn't be wise to launch into 'Love Me Tender,' so she sat down on a chair and unzipped her duffel bag. She'd managed to cram in a change of clothes for each day, along with underwear, pajamas, a toothbrush and toothpaste, several combs and hair clips, and a bottle of her preferred brand of shampoo, but there'd been no way to bring foam rollers and her industrial-sized can of hair spray. C'Mon Tours needs a bigger van, she thought tartly as she hung what she could on the single clothes hanger in the closet.

She thought about turning on the television real low, but she couldn't tell if Ruby Bee was asleep or playing possum and waiting for the chance to start complaining again. She finally went back to the window and peeked through the slats, her fingers crossed that Cherri Lucinda and Stormy had found a place nearby and might be on their way back.

She was expecting to see nothing more interesting than the woman with purple hair or maybe the two men from the balcony, so she was a little surprised when a black car pulled into the parking lot, circled the pool like a shark closing in on a swimmer, and stopped right behind the C'Mon Tours van. There were two men in the front seat, both as broad-chested as wrestlers. The driver was hard to make out, but the passenger had a bald head, a nose that was as bumpy as an unpaved road, and puffy lips.

Estelle held her breath, even though she knew darn well they couldn't hear her. If they were getting ready to steal the van, it would be up to her to stop them somehow. Rushing outside to shoo them off didn't seem wise. She'd feel real stupid if she called 911 and then later found out they had checked into the motel and were looking for their room.

She must have made a small noise of frustration because Ruby Bee said, "Now what's wrong? Did Elvis drive up in a Cadillac? Why doncha ask him inside to sit a spell and tell us whereall he's been for the last twenty years?"

"There's a car out there."

"In a parking lot? Goodness gracious, what will these big-city folks think of next?"

Estelle let go of the slat. "What's gotten into you, Rubella Belinda Hanks? I ain't seen you this persnickety since Arly moved up North and married that good-for-nothing Yankee peckerwood. You tried my patience back then, and you're doing it now."

Instead of apologizing like she was supposed to, Ruby Bee pulled a pillow over on her face.

Estelle looked back out at the parking lot. The black car hadn't moved and both men were just sitting there like warts on a toad. After what seemed like an eternity-but according to her watch, was more like five minutes-Baggins came limping into view from the direction of the street. He froze for a second, then approached the driver's side of the car and bent down.