Misery Loves Maggody

Wheezing, he picked up the receiver. "Sheriff's office, Harvey Dorfer speaking."

He listened for a few minutes, making notes and mumbling, and then replaced the receiver. "That was the state police. Let everybody know to watch for a stolen vehicle. The driver is acting real peculiar, so tell 'em not to be heroes and get theirselves shot. All they should do is follow it." He handed her the slip of paper on which he'd written the license-plate number.

"Are they supposed to call the psychic hotline to find out what kind of vehicle?" said LaBelle, taking the paper.

Harve told her, then rocked back in his chair and felt in his shirt pocket for a cigar. Maybe he'd take his son-in-law deep-sea fishing down in Florida. There wasn't any way to get a speeding ticket for that, or so he supposed.

Rex Malanac was waiting by the elevators when I arrived on the eighth floor. "Oh, good," he said with all the cheerful sincerity of a telemarketer, "I was hoping I might catch you. Would you like to have a drink in the bar? I've been told they make passable margaritas here."

"Thanks, but I'm busy," I said, attempting to sidle around him.

He cut me off. "It'll do you a world of good to relax for a few minutes and stop worrying about your mother. I can give you some tips for the blackjack table. Do come down to the bar with me, Miss Hanks. I can assure you that I'm harmless."

In that we were the same height, I looked him in the eyes. "I said I'm busy. Is there something about this particular concept that baffles you?"

The elevator doors opened and Mackenzie Cutting emerged. "We need to talk, Miss Hanks."

Rex stepped into the elevator. "I'll see you later, then."

I waited until the doors had closed. "Have you heard anything more about the alleged homicide this morning?"

"As far as the casino is concerned, it was a suicide. Miss Zimmerman had emotional problems when she came. The croupier at the roulette wheel noticed how high-strung she was, and went so far as to suggest the pit bosses keep her under observation. This is meant to be a carefree place, Miss Hanks, where adults drink, socialize, and play games of chance. When people begin to lose heavily, we discourage them from further gaming by cutting off their free drinks and their credit. Habitual losers who get in over their heads are barred from the casino and given information about Gamblers Anonymous."

"Stormy was losing a lot of money?"

"No, but she was in a foul temper. She complained loudly whenever she lost a bet and used language that some of her fellow players found offensive. After a streak of ill-fated spins, she called the croupier a 'limp-pricked penguin.' He was taken out on break and she was asked to find other amusements."

"Was she by herself?" I asked.

"Our policy is not to gossip about our guests. We have a clientele that includes politicians, celebrities, investment brokers, and so forth. We show them every courtesy, of course, but we never discuss their companions for the evening or their outcomes at the tables. They would hardly give us their business if they weren't convinced of our complete discretion."

"I understand," I said, "but this doesn't qualify as gossip. A man followed Stormy from Farberville to Memphis, and possibly here. The witness in the parking lot is convinced that she saw a man on the balcony. I'd just like to find out who he is and if he's involved."

"Then you'll have to ask Chief Sanderson," he said dismissively. "Shall we discuss Miss Oppers's latest escapade?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"From all accounts, she burst into the men's room around the corner from the reception desk. Several gentlemen were at the urinal. She grabbed one of them by the arm and spun him around. In that he was in the midst of… ah, relieving himself, it resulted in an awkward incident. I was on my way to my office when I heard shouting, and was about to enter the restroom when Miss Oppers ran out. I detained her until I could find out what was happening."

"A men's room?" I said weakly.

"A very crowded men's room."

"And one of them…?"

"Oh yes," he said, "and with an extraordinary range. I offered to cover dry-cleaning expenses, but most of them were speechless with outrage or embarrassment. Does she do this kind of thing often?"

"Not that I recall," I said. "Did she explain?"

Mackenzie's lips twitched a bit. "No, Miss Hanks, she did not, nor did she offer to apologize to the man she'd harassed. He's a state senator, and not happy that he might have alienated a dozen constituents."

"A vote by any other name," I murmured as I leaned against a table and tried very hard not to picture the scene. A giggle erupted. I turned around and stared out the window at the parking lot. "Estelle," I began, then did what I could to convert another giggle into a snort, "would never-"

"Never?" said Mackenzie.

"I'm sure she's really sorry," I said, now clamping down on my lip and making noises that were more suitable to a winded horse, "if what she did resulted in him pissing off constituents."

At which point I lost it. I needed to. I'd driven most of the night, then been obliged to deal with all kinds of officious nonsense, weird behavior-okay, very weird behavior-and a steady stream of people knocking on the door. My nose exploded with suppressed amusement. I waved him off and staggered down the hall, clutching my stomach.

"Miss Hanks," Mackenzie said, "my job's on the line. I'm paid to maintain a surreal microcosm. There is no dawn or dusk, no grocery money gone in the roll of dice or the flip of a card, no drunk hauled up to his hotel room to sleep it off until he wakes up and realizes that he's blown his life's savings. We ca

"I'll try to convince her not to piss off anybody else," I said, then doubled over and came near cracking my head against a wall.

"Will you please be serious?" he said.

I gnawed on my knuckles for a moment and willed myself to get over it. "If this senator still wants an apology, I can speak to Estelle about it."

"The last thing the senator desires is to relive the experience. All I need is your promise that absolutely nothing else will happen until you and Miss Oppers leave."

"Absolutely," I said, drawing a cross on my chest. "This senator-what does he look like?"

"He looks like the epitome of indignation," Mackenzie said coldly. "Do not approach him under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?"

"Is he bald?"

"I am not going to discuss this any further. Keep her under control. This is not a video-game arcade where a limited amount of adolescent mischief is tolerated." He turned his back on me and jabbed at the elevator button.

I went to the room and let myself in. Estelle was perched on the edge of the bed, her purse in her lap and her ankles crossed. Her jaw was thrust out so far that I doubted she could see the carpet.

"Waiting for a parade?" I asked as I sat down.

"I called the hospital. Ruby Bee's still asleep. They expect Dr. Deweese in another hour or so. I was thinking it might be nice to take some flowers to brighten up her room."

"I'm not sure there's a florist shop around here."

"Well, then," she said, "maybe I'll buy her a couple of magazines in the gift shop. She used to like those true-confession stories where the gal does something real stupid but ends up living happily ever after anyways. I never much cared for them myself."

"I guess you're more interested in politics-or at least in politicians. That would explain why you were so thrilled when you spotted the senator that you lost your mind."

"What are you getting at?"

"Why else would you pursue him into the men's room?" I said. "I hope everybody washed his hands afterward."