Chapter 2

The phone jangled, and Beagle sat up slowly and shook the cobwebs out of his head. He had pulled down the shades when he got back to his room, but sunlight now was creeping in around the edges.

The phone rang again, and he picked up the receiver.

It was Cass. "Beagle, how much trouble am I in?"

Beagle paused, composed his thoughts and said, "He's pretty pissed, Mike. I mean, he's so pissed I think you're fired."

"Shit." Cass's voice was filled with anguish.

After a moment, he said, "Can I fix it up?"

"I don't think so, Mike. Where are you?"

"Over in Gulfport. There's a girl I know here — you remember her, Binky; used to be a stripper in Pensacola."

"Oh, yeah," said Beagle. "I remember her."

"So I'm in deep shit."

"Yeah, pretty deep." Beagle's tone was sympathetic. He was thinking hard. "What's the phone number there?" He found a pencil and wrote it on a piece of yellowed hotel stationery.

"I'll see what I can do at this end," he said. "And I'll call you back this afternoon." He paused. "No, don't come 'round here right now. Seein' you might jus' set him off. I'll call you."

He hung up, got out of bed and raised the shades. The sunlight hurt his eyes, so he pulled the shades back down and lit a cigarette. This could be an interesting day, he thought.

They gathered together in the dining room downstairs for breakfast: LT, Deedee, Beagle and Mealia. Everyone was quiet. Even the usually voluble LT was lost in thought. Deedee seemed depressed and wouldn't look anyone in the eye.

She slipped a cushion onto her chair before sitting.

"You okay?" LT asked.

"I jus' need my coffee," she mumbled.

"How'd it go last night?" Mealia asked.

"Pretty good, I guess," said LT. "Wouldn't you say it went okay, Beagle?"

"Sure, LT."

They fell silent again.

Finally, Mealia said, "You sure don't sound like everything went okay."

LT munched on a slice of toast, washed it down with a gulp of coffee, and said, "Well, there was one problem. Mike Cass got drunk and picked a fight with the mayor's son. It was a stupid thing to do. I had to fire him."

"You fired Mike?" Deedee asked. It was the first time since she got up that she'd shown any spark of life.

"Yeah, I didn't want to, but I had no choice. It was either fire him or lose the mayor. And if we lose the mayor, the whole deal blows up."

"That's too bad," Deedee said sadly. "I like Mike. And I know he really looks up to you."

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have got drunk." LT was peeved, and it showed. In fact, any feeling LT had immediately showed up in his face. He's an open book, Beagle thought.

"I feel bad about it, too," Beagle said. "I told him to quit the booze. I wish I had kept at him about that. Deedee's right. He really admires you, LT." He paused, then added, "And I know he really likes you, too, Deedee."

After breakfast, Beagle followed Mealia to her room.

"We need to talk," he said.

She let him in. The room was a mess. Mealia always had been a slob.

He sat in a wicker chair and felt a lump beneath him. He slid forward, turned and picked up Deedee's balled up panties. He held them up and gave them a shake.

"You gettin' awfully sexy these days," he said to his sister with a sly grin.

Her face got even redder than usual.

"Give 'em here," she said.

"Whose are they?" he asked.

"None of your business."

He sniffed them. "Don't smell like you, sis. And there's only one other woman in this hotel, besides the maid." He sniffed them again. "Yeah, this here reeks of Deedee."

"Give 'em to me," Mealia demanded.

"No, I think I may find a use for them, sis. Maybe I'll keep 'em in my pocket, so I can give myself a little pick-me-up from time to time. Like smellin' salts when a person's feelin' faint. And speakin' of feelin' faint, how rough were you with her last night?"

"You're such a prick," Mealia said.

He got up to leave.

"What'd you come in here to talk about?" Mealia asked.

"I was gonna ask how you thought LT and Deedee was gettin' along. But I don't need to know anymore. The past don't matter. I think I know exactly how they'll be gettin' along from now on."

"It's the damnedest thing," LT said, slowly twisting his bottle of Dr. Pepper back and forth between his hands. "She's got these red welts all over her behind, but she won't talk 'bout 'em. And she seems all confused and sad. I ain't never seen her like this before."

"Maybe you got cooties in your room," Beagle said, letting out a stream of cigarette smoke.

"No, these ain't bug bites. Looks more like she's been hit — you know, like when someone whips you with a switch."

"Y'all into that kind of thing?" Beagle asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Not me," LT said. "I'm old-fashioned when it comes to lovemakin' — jus' fuckin' and blow-jobs and maybe a bit of pussy-lickin' on special occasions."

He grinned in spite of himself.

"What about you, Beag?" he asked.

"I guess I'm pretty much like you, LT. I'm not really into kinky stuff... Well, not ordinarily, anyhow."

"Whatcha mean, 'not ordinarily'?"

"Well, a few months ago me and Mike went to a whorehouse in Biloxi, and things got kinda strange."

"How so?" LT seemed keenly interested.

"Well, Mike asked for a girl who liked rough stuff. That's the way he put it — 'rough stuff.' And the madam, she said she had a girl who was willing to put up with a little roughness. Spanking and such."

"Really?" LT asked, wide-eyed. "Mike asked for that?"

"Sure enough," Beagle said. Then he fell silent.

"Well," said LT. "What the hell happened?"

"Aw, I shouldn't be tellin' you this, LT. It's kinda private, and it's not really fair to Mike."

"Tell me what happened, for God's sake," LT said loudly.

"Okay, okay. Jus' keep it down." They were sitting in a café in what passed for a downtown in Cypress Grove.

"Well," said Beagle. "He took out this leather whip he was carrying. It was coiled up inside his shirt. He took it out and whipped the shit out of her."

LT whistled. "Beat her with a whip?"

"Yeah, and it kinda upset me. I mean, it was the same sort of thing we're goin' into business to do, but this was a Southern white girl, not some Yankee slut."

"I never would have thought it," LT said softly.

"Yeah, me neither," said Beagle. "After all, it's not like Mike needs to go beatin' up whores if he's lookin' for sex. He's never had trouble gettin' women. He was real popular in high school. In fact, I think he dated Deedee. Yeah, I'm pretty sure he did."

"He never told me that," LT said, his face darkening.

"Well, no reason why he should. It was probably no big thing for either of them. I'm not even sure Mike would remember."

"You don't forget a girl like Deedee," LT said menacingly.

"Sure, you're right. She's special," Beagle said quickly. "It's just that he had so many girls. Anyway, I'm sure it wasn't nothin' but a little high school fling."

The waitress, a thin young black woman, came up to their table and asked if they wanted anything else.

"Yeah," said LT. "I think it's time to switch to beer. Bring me a Dixie."

"We don't serve no beer," the waitress said.

LT looked at her coldly. "Sure, you got beer. You go back in the kitchen and tell whoever runs this place that LT Moore and his right-hand-man are out front and they want a couple bottles of Dixie. Tell him that, and see what happens. And if he ain't heard of LT Moore, tell him to call Sheriff Berkey and ask about me."

"Okay," the waitress said sulkily as she walked away, "but I know we ain't got no beer."

"Jesus H. Fuckin' Christ," LT sighed. "It's one goddam aggravation after another. Now, where were we?"

"I don't recall," Beagle said. "Oh, yeah, it was about Mike and Deedee."

"You think they ever did it?" LT asked, staring into Beagle's eyes.

Beagle looked away. "Why you put me on the spot like this, LT? It was a long time ago and they was jus' teen-agers. What difference does it make?"

"I want to know what you think, dammit," LT shouted.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. What I think is that, yeah, they probably did it. I mean, it was probably just a blow job or a quick fuck in the back seat of a car at the drive-in. But shit, that doesn't mean they was in love, much less that they're still — " Here he paused.

"They're still what?" LT grabbed his arm.

"Christ, LT, that hurts. Relax, will you?"

LT released him. "Okay, I'm relaxed. I'm calm. What I want to know is do you think there's still anything between Mike and Deedee? Any love interest? Any carryin' on?"

"No, I don't," Beagle said. "And that's the honest to God truth. I think whatever was between them is over and done with. Besides, I'm not even sure Deedee ever enjoyed that kind of rough stuff."

LT stood up so suddenly that his chair fell over backward.

"What you mean? You sayin' he used to beat her?"

"No, that's not what I'm sayin'. Sit down, for Christ sake."

LT picked up his chair and sat. He leaned across the table until his face was close to Beagle's.

"Then what are you sayin', Beagle. Think very carefully before you talk, you son-of-a-bitch. What are you gettin' at?"

Beagle wore a pained expression, as if he were struggling within himself.

"Look, LT, I don't want to cause no trouble. I don't want to upset you. I don't want to hurt Deedee or Mike."

"Get to the goddamn point," LT bellowed.

Two men who had been finishing a late breakfast at another table got up, shook their heads disapprovingly and left.

"What I heard is that Deedee found Mike powerful appealin'. And when she got to know him... when he introduced her, so to speak, to some of his kinky stuff, she got real excited."

"And that happened back in high school?" LT asked.

"No, this was sometime after high school."

"How long after?" LT demanded.

Beagle was silent for what seemed like a long time. Finally, he said, "Til you and Deedee took up together. About three months ago."

LT looked like he had been hit between the eyes with a two-by-four.

"I gotta talk to her," he said, more to himself than to Beagle. "I gotta talk to her."

"Before you do that, LT, you need to think this through. What good will it do to talk to her? She'll just deny it. She'll say Mike don't mean nothin' to her. That's only natural. And so will Mike. They don't want to hurt you. Besides, what happened before you and Deedee took up with one another ain't technically any of your business. I mean, so long as they ain't still at it, you can't claim no wrong."

"And how in the fuck am I to know whether they're 'still at it'?"

"I don't know," Beagle said. His voice was filled with sadness. "I jus' wish I had kept my mouth shut. I don't know how you can know for sure what's goin' on."

"I'm goin' out for a walk on the beach," LT said. "You're right. I gotta think this through. I'll see you later at the hotel."

"Sure, LT. You go ahead. I'll pay the bill here."

LT walked away, his shoulders slumped. When the screen door swung shut, Beagle gestured to the waitress. "How much?" he asked.

"Dollar and a quarter," she said. Then she added, "I checked. We don't have no beer."

Beagle smiled. "Dollar and a quarter don't seem much of a price for destroyin' a man's soul," he said.

The waitress frowned. "I don't know what you talkin' 'bout, Mister."

He gave her two dollars. "Keep the change, honey," he said. "I'm feelin' generous today."

From a pay phone at a gas station near the hotel, Beagle called the number Cass had given him. A woman answered.

"Mike there?" he asked.

"He's sleepin'," the woman said.

"Is this Binky?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"This is Mike's friend Beagle. Tell him I need to talk to him. Wake him up. He won't mind."

"You sure?" she asked.

"I promise he'll be glad you did."

A few seconds later Mike's sleepy voice asked, "Yeah, Beagle, what's up?"

"Get over to the hotel as quick as you can. I think I know how we can patch this thing up. LT is a sucker for Deedee. He'll do jus' about anything to please her. If we can get her to talk to him about your situation, I think we can fix it."

"Thanks, Beagle," Cass said, his voice filled with relief. "You're a real friend. I'll be there in no time — 20 minutes tops."

Beagle hung up and walked jauntily to the hotel. A stiff breeze was blowing in from the Gulf, carrying a tang of salt and the cries of gulls. Far in the distance, he could see LT, at the water's edge.

Mealia was sitting on the veranda.

"You seen Deedee?" he asked.

"I think she's still up in her room," Mealia said. "What you up to, Beagle?"

"You ever been in the bumper cars over at Pontchartrain Beach? Imagine if the bumper cars was locomotives. That's what I'm up to, sis."

He went into the Cytherea and raced up the stairs, two at a time.

LT wasn't much of a walker, but he trudged through the sand with grim determination. His despair had quickly been transformed into anger, and the anger frightened him. He wanted to work it off. At the moment, walking was the only safe way to do so.

Now he was headed back to the hotel, head down, brow furrowed, deep in thought. What did he really know about Mike and Deedee? Nothing but what Beagle had told him, and Beagle himself said he didn't have anything definite. They probably dated in high school. They may have had something going after high school. It was all surmise and suspicion.

But then there were the welts on Deedee's behind. When he had asked her about them, she had blushed and turned away from him. She wouldn't talk about them.

And whipping women's behinds was something that turned Mike on. Beagle had seen it with his own eyes.

But Beagle could be lying. Naw, why would he lie? He liked Mike.

So the story about Mike at the whorehouse had to be true. And the welts on Deedee's ass were a fact. Put two and two together and what do you get? Perversion, that's what — kinky shit between his buddy and his girlfriend. Kinky stuff that she must like. Going on while his back was turned. Going on last night, while he was at the VFW hall making his sales pitch. Mike must have come back to the hotel, still sort of drunk. He sees Deedee sitting on the veranda. They talk. He makes a suggestion. She smiles seductively. They go up to the room, and then...

"Jesus H. Fuckin' Christ!" LT yelled, startling half a dozen terns into flight.

He looked around to get his bearings. The hotel was barely a hundred yards away. Two people were on the veranda. He couldn't tell from this distance who they were. But he was pretty sure one was a man and the other was a women.

He walked faster.

"I don't know if it'll do any good, but I'll try," Deedee said. "He doesn't like me inquirin' into his business."

"I'm not askin' you to talk business," Mike said. "I'm askin' you to talk to him about how me and him have been friends for a long time. I'm askin' you to ask him to give me another chance."

A voice came from the screen door a few feet from them. It was Beagle, who had been standing in the lobby, by the door.

"Mike, you better hightail it out of here," he said. "I see LT comin' and he's walkin' like a man who's really pissed."

"Why should I run away?" Mike asked. "I want to face him like a man. I want to tell him I'm sorry and ask him to forgive me."

"I'm tellin' you," Beagle said urgently, "You better get the fuck out of here, fast."

Mike sighed, then walked down the steps of the veranda and looked to his left. The figure in the distance was still small, but he could tell it was LT. He turned and walked in the other direction.

Deedee came to the top of the steps and leaned against a wooden column. She was confused. Beagle had urged her to talk with Mike, but now he had told Mike to go away. Why not let Mike and LT work this out together? She didn't want to get in the middle. She liked Mike, but who was she to tell LT who to hire and fire?

LT reached the foot of the steps, paused and tried to catch his breath.

"Was that Mike jus' left here?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, honey, he..." Deedee hesitated. LT was coming up the steps fast and his face was twisted with rage.

She backed away, but his open-handed blow still caught her on the side of the head. She tumbled backward into the clapboard wall and fell to the floor. He knelt and continued slapping her.

Deedee's screams brought Mealia out from the kitchen, where she had been talking with the cook. She rushed past Beagle and out on the veranda.

"LT, what the hell you doin'?" she cried. She tried to grab his raised right hand, but he pushed her away and continued pummeling Deedee.

"Beagle," Mealia called. "Come out here and stop him. Please, for God's sake."

Beagle stepped out and said, "Lay off her, LT. You jus' gonna get yourself into trouble. Let her alone. Let's go for a walk and do some talkin'."

LT paused. He was still on his knees. Deedee was curled up next to him, her hands pressed against the sides of her head.

"I done enough walkin' today, Beagle. I done enough thinkin' and talkin' too."

"A person can't never do enough thinkin'," said Beagle. "Lack of thinkin' is what gets you into deep shit." He walked over to LT and squatted beside him.

"Let her go back up to her room and compose herself," he said. "Mealia'll take care of her. Let's you and me go somewhere and figure out what to do next."

LT got unsteadily to his feet. His fit of rage had suddenly passed, and he looked dazed. Deedee was sobbing softly. He looked down at her and said, "You okay, honey?"
Mealia helped Deedee to sit up, and took her in her arms. "Go away, LT. Go away, and let her go upstairs and rest. You done put her through hell."

LT walked down the steps. Beagle was at his side, with one hand on his shoulder. LT felt old and tired. He wanted to go somewhere, far from everyone, and sleep. Sleep forever. No more pain. No more jealousy. No more voices.