“What is that, dear?”
“Purdy Feltenham.”
“Heath’s best man at our wedding. He was such a charmer.”
“Why did he have to go everywhere with a sack over his head?”
“He was considerate, dear.”
“What did he look like?”
“Purdy was born with terrible facial deformations. Far worse than the Elephant Man. People tended to faint when they saw him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, they learned a valuable lesson.”
“What lesson?”
“Not to pull the sack off the head of someone who wears one. And not to tease and torment people. A lot of nasty teenagers soiled their pants because they pulled that sack off Purdy.”
“A memorable lesson.”
“On the plus side, Purdy’s looks made him rich.”
“How so?”
“He bought his own ten-in-one and was the star of it.”
“Ten-in-one?”
“A freak show in a carnival, a tent with ten attractions in it. They’re outlawed now, but Purdy became a millionaire back when.”
“Still, he had to go everywhere with a sack over his head.”
“Don’t fret, child. The sack had eye holes.”
“That’s good to know.”
“And he didn’t wear the sack in the carnival world, where he spent ninety-nine percent of his time. Carnies accept everyone.”
“Not everyone. I had a problem with two carnies once, these guys, Bucket and Pecker. Excuse me, ma’am, but that was his name.”
“What was your problem with them, dear?”
“I annoyed them, so they tried to kill me.”
“Please tell me you didn’t pull a sack off one of their heads.”
“No, ma’am. I never would.”
“Good. If they were bad men, they weren’t friends of Purdy.”
“No, I’m sure they weren’t. But it’s sad.”
“What’s sad?”
“Purdy must have lived a lonely life.”
“He married a beautiful girl, Darnelle, who worked the kootch show. Hootchy-kootchy. That doesn’t mean she was a stripper. Kootch dancers didn’t strip nude.”
“So his face didn’t bother her?”
“His face didn’t bother anyone, dear, once you got to know him. Purdy was all heart, not all face.”
I said, “That’s a nicer story than I expected.”
“Child, your story will turn out nicer than you expect, too.”
“I wouldn’t bet everything you own on that, ma’am.”
“Neither would I.”
“Good for you.”
“But only because I’m not a betting woman.”
Wearing two shoulder holsters, a Glock under each arm, and a police utility belt hung with all manner of stuff other than a gun, I got out of the car, and Mrs. Fischer got out, too, because the bulletproof vest buckled from behind, and I needed her to cinch it tight so that I could do a final adjustment to the shoulder rigs.
When I was geared-up and ready to go, she said, “Now let me look at you, child.”
She couldn’t have seen me all that clearly in the dark of the woods, under an overcast sky, but she checked the four spare-magazine pouches on the utility belt, to be sure the flaps were snapped shut. She asked if I had my Talkabout, which is a walkie-talkie, and I said that I had it. Cell-phone service would either be poor or non-existent in this remote place, so if we needed to scheme together, Talkabouts were the best bet, as long as we were within range of each other. She checked off other items on my utility belt, brushed at my Kevlar vest as if she saw lint on it, pinched my cheek, said, “Well, you look as invincible as you are cute,” and I felt as if I should be a brave boy and go out to the street to wait for the school bus all by myself.
I had gone only a few steps when she softly called my name. She hurried to me and said, “The vest won’t puncture, so let me pin this to the sleeve of your sweater.”
“Pin what?”
“My little diamond-and-ruby exclamation point. For good luck. It doesn’t mean what I told the waitress it meant.”
“It doesn’t really mean ‘Sister, what a hoot it is to be me’?”
“No, and it doesn’t mean ‘Seize the day’ or ‘Live life to the fullest,’ either.”
“What does it mean, then?”
“Never you mind what it means.”
I said, “Maybe it means ‘We might as well eat.’ ”
“Sometimes you make no sense, child. This brooch will bring you through alive. Now scoot before I start crying.”
I scooted out to the state route, crossed the pavement, and walked south along the farther shoulder of the road, toward the private lane that I believed would lead me to the cowboy and the children, ready to take cover in the brush and trees at the first sound of an approaching engine.