I opened the yellow Columbia County phone book and looked up Allen. Zeke lived on Railroad Avenue but no one answered his phone, so I left a message. Then I took a deep breath and dialed the other Allen I had circled. Earl.
“Hal-lo.” Super. Zeke’s mom.
“Mrs. Allen, it’s Bubbles Yablonsky.”
“Gracious. Champ’s tootsie. How are you, Bubbles?”
I swallowed my pride and the rest of my turkey sandwich. “Mrs. Allen, I’m very concerned about Steve and Zeke. Are they back yet?”
“Well, Zeke is. He’s taking a nap, poor boy. He was exhausted, all that flying around.”
“Do you know if Champ met him at the airport?”
“I don’t believe so, dear. It’s why Zeke was late. He waited an hour for Champ to show. After that, Zeke assumed Steve must have been tied up. So Zeke drove home in his own truck that he had parked in the long-term lot, eight dollars a day. Though I have to say, I think your mother’s friend should pay for the damage she did to my son’s tailpipe. He walked in the door positively reeking of baked potatoes, not that baked potatoes are bad, mind you, only that—”
I held the phone away from my ear. Ay, yi, yi. If I had been Mr. Allen, I would have wood-paneled my wife into a soundproof booth.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, Mrs. Allen—”
“Of course you don’t mean to, dear. It’s just your upbringing. Uncouth.”
Ignore that, Bubbles, my brain instructed. “We’re having a hard time finding Steve anywhere. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to him. May I speak to Zeke?”
“Have you tried his girlfriend?”
“Zeke has a girlfriend?”
“Mercy no, over my dead body. I’m talking about Steve. Steve’s girlfriend Esmeralda. They’ve been working together for years, don’t you know. We think it’d be wonderful if he’d propose to her. Just wonderful. Maybe Esme and Champ would settle in her hometown then. Slagville is such a nice place to raise children.”
I fought hard, I really did, to keep the edge in my voice to a minimum. “Why do you think Steve is with Esmeralda?”
“Well, I ran into her in the Acme this afternoon. She said she couldn’t stop to talk, that she was in a hurry and I said, ‘Where to, dear?’ And Esme mentioned something about going to Steve’s house back in Saucon Valley. I couldn’t catch it completely, what she was saying, because she was halfway out the door.”
The phone cord twisted around my fingers, nearly cutting off the circulation. “If you wouldn’t mind asking Zeke to call my cousin’s salon when he wakes up, I’d certainly appreciate it. I’ll check my messages after the Hoagie Ho before I return to Lehigh.”
“I’ll let him know,” she said. But I doubted it.
I remained frozen with the portable in my hand for a good five minutes. Should I call him? Should I not? How many times have I and countless other women asked the same question? We women really should get rid of these phones. We’d be much better off.
Against my better judgment, I dialed the number for Stiletto’s Saucon Valley mansion. 1-610—
“Hello?”
I froze. I froze like a fourth grader who had just called the gym teacher at home looking for a Jacque. Jacque Itch.
“Hell-oo? Who is this?” the sultry voice on the other end asked.
“Uh,” I realized I was breathing heavily and clicked off the phone.
Esmeralda! She was there. In Stiletto’s house.
Roxanne came down the stairs ready for the Atlantic City runway. Sapphire dress covered in rhinestones. Red hair piled up with matching clips and dangle cubic zirconia earrings (my contribution).
“How do I look? Do you think Stinky will take me back?”
“Definitely,” I said, though I thought Stinky might take her to the insane asylum for showing up like that for a hoedown.
The phone rang in my hand. I could only stare at it. Brrrring! Brrring! Roxanne’s caller ID system displayed Stiletto’s number on the phone console. Esmeralda must have dialed *69.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Roxanne asked.
“Nah.” I clicked it on and then off, so the ringing would stop. “It’s only Mr. Salvo. Let’s go.”
“You’ve got to get ready. You can’t go in pants. I’ll get a couple of wine coolers for us while you get dressed.”
I waited until she passed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. That’s when I disconnected the phone in the rear of the console.
Looking back, it was the worst move I could have made.
The Union Hall was hopping when we arrived. There was lots of whooping and cheering inside thanks to a lively boom-bass band and, I guessed, not an infrequent amount of bolio—coal country’s potent whiskey cocktail.
“You’re not coming?” Roxanne asked, fixing her lipstick in the rearview of my Camaro.
“I’m sticking around until Mama shows up with Genevieve.”
“Listen, Bub, I know you’re antsy because of this Stiletto imposter who hired Zeke to keep tabs on you. So, I took the liberty of buying you some self defense.” She displayed a rounded oblong tube. It looked pornographic.
“Is that a—?”
“What?” She put it in my hand. “It’s a battery-powered portable curling iron. To zing your stalker in the you-know-whats. Heats one minute after you pull it open, so plan accordingly.”
“Thanks Roxanne.” I said, stuffing it in my purse. “You’re a great cousin. Gorgeous, too.”
“That goes for both of us. Too bad Stiletto’s not here.”
Ouch. That hurt. Looking over my snakeskin bodysuit and taupe skirt, which I had purchased for a romantic night with Stiletto, all I could think of was Esmeralda letting her red hair fall against his bare chest. And here I was wearing an outfit that was snugger than cling wrap to a hoagie hoedown at the Union Hall.
Big drops started falling on the windshield. “My hair’s gonna get ruined,” Roxanne said, opening her compact umbrella. “What’s our plan again?”
“You look for Stinky while I keep Chief Donohue occupied.”
My pre-Hoagie Ho scope out of the Union Hall had been a failure, I decided. I hadn’t found Stinky and I had tipped off Donohue to the possibility that Stinky was hiding somewhere in the building. I was only glad I hadn’t told Mr. Salvo about my appointed rendezvous with the most wanted man in Slagville. Donohue would no doubt have listened in on our conversation and upended the Union Hall to find Stinky first.
“What happens when I find my husband?” Roxanne asked. “Then what are we going to do about Donohue?”
“I have a solution. All we need is a code word for when either of us finds Stinky.”
Roxanne pointed to my purse. “How about the curling iron? That’ll never register with Donohue.”
“Excellent. Now go before the rain picks up.”
She opened the umbrella and dashed across the road to the Union Hall. The golden oldies arrived fifteen minutes later in Pete’s rust-colored Dodge Dart. Pete was dressed to the nines in a plaid shirt buttoned to the throat and brown blazer that didn’t quite go with the shirt, but that was okay. It was the effort that counted.
He ran around the front of the car like a teenager and opened the passenger door. Mama got out first in her standard black leather and swaggered—as much as a Polish bowling ball can swagger—toward the door. Genevieve was next in a purple raincoat that made her look like a giant plum.
I cornered all three in the coatroom and gave them the skinny. Bless Pete and Genevieve for being such diehard conspiracy nuts. They ate it up.
“You think maybe it’s FEMA that sicced Zeke Allen on you?” Genevieve asked.
Pete nodded in agreement. “I’ve thought for years that FEMA started the mine fire in Limbo, just so it could claim marshal law when the blaze got out of control. I bet Zeke’s a secret agent for them. I bet he’s involved in your Stiletto’s disappearance.”
I told them I still didn’t know who had hired Zeke or if Stiletto had officially disappeared. I kept my private theory about him secretly cocooning with Esmeralda to myself. No point in coming off like a jealous girlfriend.
“But we do have to keep our eyes and ears open,” I added.
“I’ll turn up the cochlear,” Pete said, giving his hearing aid a twist.
Mama was a harder sell. “What exactly are we supposed to look for, Bubbles?” she asked.
“I’m not exactly sure. But if you see someone out of place following me, that’s not good.”
“You suggesting that whoever this mysterious person is, he’s going to bust in on your rendezvous with Stinky?”
“It’s a distinct possibility.” I put my hand on her tiny shoulder. “And that’s where you come in.”
“Me? I can’t shoot as well as Genevieve.”
“No shooting.” I motioned them to the back of the closet. “Mama, I want you to occupy Chief Donohue while I meet with Stinky. I don’t care what you have to do, if you have to throw a fit about your arrest this morning, just keep him busy.”
Pete cupped his hand to his ear. “We gotta arrest Donohue?” he hollered.
“Keep your voice down,” Genevieve said with a poke. “I’ll tell you later.”
“No problem,” Mama said, patting her gray permed hair. “Donohue and I have chemistry.”
I gave her a doubtful look. “Since when is a demand that you get out of town by sunrise chemistry?”
“You don’t know much about sexual tension, do you, Bubbles?” she said. “For your information, Donohue wanted me out of his sight so I’d quit being a temptation to him. We’re star-crossed.”
“They’re running low on halupkies,” complained Genevieve, who’d been peeking out of the coat closet. “Let’s go.”
We did a round of high (and in Mama’s case, low) fives and emerged from the closet looking like the Odd Squad—me in my snakeskin bodysuit, Mama in her biker leather, Genevieve the purple plum and Pete the deaf Mr. Green Jeans.
It cost two bucks to be admitted to the Hoagie Ho and it was well worth it. White papered tables were piled high with noodle casseroles, stuffed cabbages, endless desserts and, oh yes, hoagies for sale from various organizations around town. Matrons in aprons dished out the food and pocketed the change, teasing their patrons mercilessly as they did so. A platform at one end supported a boom-bass band that was doing it up right with “Old Time Polka,” including a fiddler who had dancers whirling their skirts and stomping their boots in a frenzy.
“Where’s the rival gang?” I asked Mama, as I dumped a spoonful of macaroni salad on my plate. “I’d have expected this place to be swarming with Slagville Sirens.”
“Maybe Genny and I scared them off. Either that or they’re up to something like I’ve been saying.” Mama sneered at a plate of pierogies. “The sirens must have dropped off this dish and run. Potato, onion and cardamom. A specialty from the Slagville Siren cookbook.”
“They have a cookbook?”
“It’s a necessity. A siren’s always looking for new recipes, otherwise the Nag ’N Feed spell loses its effectiveness.” Mama flipped open the switchblade from her back pocket and stabbed the pierogi, taking a tiny bite. “Hmmph. Not bad. Too much salt, though, for my blood pressure.”
“Maybe that’s why they stole the Nana diary,” I suggested, helping myself to a cup of cider. “They just needed the new recipes.”
“That’s exactly what Vilnia told me after the fight at St. Stanislaw’s. Guess Genevieve and I kind of jumped the gun.”
“Yeah, kind of.” I bit into a pierogi just as Donohue ambled through the door, his thumbs stuck in his black leather holster.
“What a pompous jerk,” I whispered to Mama. “Do you know he listens in on everyone’s calls in this town? He’s sneaky.”
“I think he’s kind of dreamy, in a pig-like authoritarian way.”
I squinted. Donohue dreamy? He strode around the hall puffed up and important. His black boots hit the floor with resounding thuds as he nodded to various citizens. But he was not here for a community festival or even to keep the peace.
He was here for Stinky.
“He’s got the hots for me, oh yes. I could tell when he cuffed me, the way his hands lingered on my wrists.” Mama put her plate on a table and removed a compact and lipstick that had bulged from her hip pocket, next to the switchblade. “I’ll venture that he’s never before seen a woman like your mother, so dangerous and feminine.”
“You might want to get rid of this,” I said, removing the cigarette from behind her ear.
Mama plucked it out of my fingers and replaced it. “Please, I got a bad girl image to maintain. Shut up, here he comes.”
Donohue strolled over. “Well, well, well,” he said, “if it isn’t Belle Starr with the pastry pin.”
Mama winked at me and mouthed, “Told you so.”
“I figured you’d be on the road by now, LuLu,” Donohue said. “Didn’t I give you until sundown to get out of town?”
“You said I could stay until the Hoagie Ho.” Mama fingered her dog collar, which was hidden among the folds of her neck. “Perhaps so we could meet again?”
Donohue looked confused and, may I add, rightly so. Before Mama humiliated herself further, I asked if Sasha was okay.
Again Donohue looked confused. “Pardon?”
“Chrissy Price’s daughter. We were talking about her this morning in this very room. You said you pitied the kid.”
Donohue blinked. “Why would I know what Chrissy Price’s daughter was up to?”
I felt that same cold pit in my stomach, the one that ached when I learned Stiletto was AWOL. “Because my daughter’s boyfriend said he was pulled over while driving Sasha back to the inn. A cop insisted that she get in the back of the cruiser and they supposedly returned to the station.”
“Wasn’t me. Maybe one of my men.” Donohue yanked the walkie-talkie out of his belt buckle. “You have a description of the officer?”
“White hair. Older, G said.”
Donohue frowned. “I’m the only one that’d meet that description. Unless, the officer was from another jurisdiction.”
What other jurisdiction would take a seventeen-year-old girl? I wished G were here so he could clarify whether the cop was from Slagville or not. “My daughter’s boyfriend is on his way back to Lehigh, otherwise I’d have him talk to you.”
“Lehigh, huh?” Donohue was about to radio in when he caught sight of Roxanne. “Whaddya know,” he said.
Roxanne was making her way across the room, her rhinestones glowing as much as her expression. Dangy. Now that questions had been raised about Sasha, I was eager to stick by Donohue until he sorted out what had happened to her. Never rains but it pours.
“Hello there, Chief,” Roxanne cooed. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
“You awful dolled up there for a simple potluck, Roxanne,” Donohue said. “You got a special evening planned?”
She brushed back a strand of hair. “Can’t expect me to sit at home and mope because my old man up and ran off, now can you?”
“Did he run off, Roxanne?”
She stared at him dead-on straight. “He did, Chief. I’ve given up. On him at least. Not on men.”
I found myself holding my breath as Donohue considered this. Finally he said, “Good for you. You’re a decent woman, Roxanne. You deserve better.”
“Thank you, Chief.” Turning to me she said, “By the way, Bub, you didn’t happen to bring a curling iron with you?”
Ohmigod. She’d found Stinky. I dipped into my purse. “Have one right here,” I said, pulling out the travel iron.
“Great. I need to touch up a tendril. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
Donohue tipped his hat.
“You want to come with, Bubbles?” Roxanne asked casually.
“Sure,” I said. “You don’t mind, Mama? You won’t be lonely?”
“With this manly man?” She boldly reached up and linked her arm in his. “No way.”
Donohue didn’t say a word. He set his mouth and glowered, gripping his radio so hard it should have shattered.
“You think we convinced him?” Roxanne said as she steered me toward the ladies room.
“We won’t know until this night’s over. Where is Stinky?”
“I’ll show you.” Roxanne led me down the hall to a door with a padlock that wasn’t really locked. She undid the padlock. The door opened to a hot stairway lined by cement blocks. A furnace rumbled below.
“The furnace room? He’s been hiding out in the furnace room?”
Roxanne put her finger to her lips and led me down two flights of stairs. We landed on a cement floor next to three big boilers. A bare light bulb swung from the ceiling.
“Carl?” she called softly. “It’s okay. It’s me and Bubbles.”
Stinky emerged from a door under the stairs. The first thing I noticed about him was how tidy he was for a man who’d been on the lam and hiding out in a boiler room. He wore a dark green cardigan over a spotless white shirt that was tucked neatly into his khakis. His thinning brown hair was combed without the flecks of dandruff scattered about like there used to be and he was wearing contacts. He was almost bearable.
And not a squirting corsage on him.
“I’m sorry you got involved in this,” were the first words out of his mouth.
“What am I involved in?” I asked, opening my purse and pulling out my reporter’s notebook.
Stinky shook his head. “Trust me. It started out as a good deed. What I designed was going to save my town, save everyone.”
“Your eavesdropping device?” Roxy asked innocently.
“His fire extinguisher,” I said. “To douse the fire under Limbo.”
“What fire extinguisher?” Roxanne wanted to know.
Stinky was clearly shocked that I had discovered his invention. “How’d you find out?”
“Long story.” I held up my reporter’s notebook. “This okay?”
Stinky glanced at Roxanne. “Can you take notes now and then contact me when you’re going to print the story? I’m not in hiding for nothing.”
“Sure,” I said, opening the notebook. “What I want to know is if the fire extinguisher works.”
Stinky hitched up his pants in excitement. “Well, yeah. Of course it works. It worked when I presented it to Hugh McMullen months ago.”
“Why didn’t he use it? He could have made a mint.”
“Really?” said Roxy, flummoxed by the revelation that her husband had invented a mint-producing extinguisher. “How come you never told me about this, Stink?”
“It was supposed to be top secret until we had the patent,” Stinky said. “But we were delayed because McMullen wanted me to make it fool-proof to avoid lawsuits. It worked perfectly on the tiny fires I was setting in the lab and spreading with the hairdryers. Nevertheless, McMullen demanded one-hundred percent assurance it would douse the mine fire in Limbo.”
“That’s what all that equipment was that I found in the basement—to put out the Limbo mine fire?” Roxanne said. “And there I went and ripped it all out. Oh, what an idiot I was.”
“I had to move the equipment to the basement after I quit McMullen Coal. Too bad, because Mr. McMullen had provided me with my own lab and lots of cash. I miss that cash.”
“Me, too,” she added.
I jotted down notes. “Why did you quit McMullen Coal?”
Roxanne threw up her hands. “Because of the maps, remember? We’ve been over that, Bubbles. Let’s get to Price’s murder and why Stinky’s Lexus was at the scene.”
“Please, Stinky. From the beginning,” I said.
Stinky nodded. “After I showed Mr. McMullen the prototype of my fire extinguisher, he treated me like royalty. Bought me two new cars, quadrupled my salary and took me out of the mapping division so I could devote all my energy to perfecting my invention.”
“How did you find out about the maps?” I asked.
“One night this spring, after work was done for the day, I went into the Number Nine mine to test the extinguisher. That mine was perfect for what I wanted because it bordered the Dead Zone and was abandoned. Or so I thought. Once I got down there, though, I saw right away what had been going on. They must have been mining a good three hundred feet into that buffer area.”
I wrote this as fast as I could. “Did you tell McMullen?”
“I called him in Pittsburgh, since he was never around, and told him what had happened. He said he had had no idea and he’d get right on it. A few months later I went into the map room for some of my old supplies and decided to take a look at the maps of the Number Nine mine, out of curiosity.”
“They were unchanged, right?” added Roxanne, eager to move the topic along.
Stinky kissed her quick. “Right, pumpkin. Not one map noted that the mine had been reactivated. I decided to check out the mine again. I thought maybe they had filled it in, though that’s a very costly process. I waited until a day when the mines were closed and went down to the same spot in the Number Nine mine. Damned if they’d dug even further under the Dead Zone. That’s when I got really mad.”
“Because miners lives were at risk?” I asked, pausing from note taking.
“Not just the miners,” Stinky exclaimed. “Everyone. Do you know what would have happened if they’d dug through to the mine fire? Kaboom!”
“Shhh,” Roxanne scolded him. “People will hear.”
“Did you call McMullen again?”
“I did. It was Labor Day, so I expected him to tell me it could wait until Tuesday. Instead, he rushed right up here and we met in his office.”
“Labor Day, huh?” I thought of Louise Lamporini whose holiday had been ruined because McMullen had called her into work on Labor Day.
“And that’s when I got really scared for my life.” Stinky lowered his voice and glanced around the room, as though there might be spies hidden behind the boilers. “Mr. McMullen looked awful. His hair was on end and he was chain-smoking. He told me to snap my trap about the maps and get that fire extinguisher finished. He said he had a lot riding on it and he couldn’t keep bankrolling me.”
“I’m sort of amazed he could bankroll you to begin with,” I said. “From what all my sources told me, he was strapped.”
“That crossed my mind, too. I told him he could shove the project and I quit on the spot. I didn’t want to be part of an organization that tinkered with human life. The next day, McMullen filed those restraining orders and sent letters to every mining company in the state saying that I was a dangerous individual. I started getting nervous that maybe I’d have no credibility left. That’s why I pestered Sommerville at PMS—”
“PMS?” No. It was too coincidental to the bogus slug I’d tacked onto the mining story.
Stinky smiled. “Sorry. That’s kind of industry shorthand. We call the Pennsylvania Bureau of Mine Safety, PMS.”
Imagine.
“I didn’t mean ill will against Hugh McMullen. I just don’t think he understood the gravity of the situation. And he had so many personal problems.”
“Then why did you go into hiding?” Roxanne asked. “Why did you leave me? Because I accused you of eavesdropping?”
“Because I hadn’t been eavesdropping. Because someone was spreading that rumor to ruin your business, Roxanne. I didn’t want you to get hurt, too, so I left and went into hiding. Figured it’d be safer for you if everyone thought we split.”
“Awww,” Roxanne said, blinking back tears.
But I was now really confused. If Stinky hadn’t blackmailed Roxanne’s clients, then who had?
People were talking upstairs. We listened for a bit, trying to determine whether or not they were coming down the stairs.
“I better go,” Roxanne said. “Chief Donohue will search the building if one of us doesn’t return to that hall soon.” She planted a big smooch on Stinky’s lips and then hightailed it up the stairs. “Don’t go anywhere, hon.”
When she was gone, Stinky’s whole body language drooped. “How could I have done this to Roxanne? She’s married to the Slagville boogieman now. A boogieman who lives in a hole and spends his life on the run.”
“I think Donohue just wants to question you,” I said. “He’s already told the press that McMullen killed Price using a family pistol.”
“I’m not talking about Donohue wanting me.” Stinky bit his nail.
“Oh?”
“I know you’re going to say I’m paranoid, just like Roxanne’s always telling me, but honestly, Bubbles, I’ve had a lot of time to dissect this and I am convinced someone else was pushing Hugh McMullen. He was completely irrational during our last meeting.”
“His father, maybe?” I thought of what Louise Lamporini had said about Senior McMullen calling up his son and reaming him out.
Stinky dismissed this. “Senior McMullen is almost comatose. But you’re right in that it’s probably someone wealthy and someone with authority over Hugh. You also hit it on the head when you said Hugh McMullen was strapped. He would never have been able to afford the cars and the high-tech lab on his own. The company was in the red. Almost bleeding.”
“And then when you didn’t produce the perfect fire extinguisher, the honcho controlling McMullen put the pressure on. That’s why Hugh was so hysterical when you confronted him about the mine maps.”
“That’s why Hugh did what he did,” Stinky said. “That’s why he killed Price.”
There was a clanging upstairs of the padlock on the door and footsteps running overhead. Then Roxanne’s voice protesting frantically.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” Stinky said, opening his door. “This leads to the outside, by the dugout in the Union Hall’s softball field. I’ll need a head start.”
He started to crawl in. I called after him, “How do you know McMullen shot Price?”
“Bud Price and I drove to the mine together. He had contacted me Wednesday evening at the Hole, swearing accusations that I was in cahoots with McMullen. That’s when I told him about the excavation under his Dead Zone and Price insisted I take him down that night and show him. So, a few hours later he arrived and we went down together through an access hole. Price was so pissed at the excavation, he wanted to get out right away and call McMullen.” Stinky sighed and continued. “He ran ahead of me and that’s when I saw McMullen shoot Bud Price. I think he saw me, too, because he took a couple of shots as I hurried back up the ladder.”
Hence, the multiple shots in the mine. Hence, the reason why McMullen was so desperate to get hold of Stinky.
“I ran into the woods. I didn’t even dare get into my car. McMullen knew my car. He’d bought it for me.”
The door at the top of the stairs opened and Roxanne screamed, “Bubbles. It’s Donohue.”
“Wait,” I hissed, crawling even deeper into the dark and grabbing Stinky’s sweater. “Why did you send me the fax?”
“What fax?”
“The fax you sent to the Passion Peak Wednesday night telling me that a businessman had been shot in the Number Nine mine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bubbles. How would I know that you were at the Passion Peak?” He shook off my hand. “Now let me go.”