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“I heard that.” From Buckeye Brandon, actually, who’s always got the biggest scoop of the newest poop.
“It’ll only be for a short while, until they bring in some hotshot from one of the bigger cities. He’s okay with that. Lew got this from ATF. It’s not public yet. Want to hear the story?”
“You know I do.” Holly’s eyes are sparkling.
“There was a woman in the church named Melody Martinek, okay?”
“Does she sound like she’s singing when she answers the phone?”
“I’ve never talked to her. Just shut up and listen, okay? She was a close friend of Christopher Stewart’s mother, and one of the few who knew Christopher liked to dress in female clothes. It was in honor ofhis sister. Or because he sometimes thought hewashis sister, Martinek had no opinion on that. Eventually, after both his parents had died, it became general knowledge in their little cult. Martinek got disillusioned and left the church when Mrs. Stewart died. Said they wouldn’t let Stewart go to the doctor because they were going to pray the cancer away.”
“Like they probably tried to pray Christopher Stewart’s female half away,” Holly says.
“Yeah, probably. You know, Holly, I think the religions of the world are responsible for a shitpot of trouble.”
“Finish your story.”
“Martinek talked to the cops in Baraboo Junction. The local cops talked to the state cops, and the state cops talked to the ATF. ATF got a search warrant based on the Martinek woman’s sworn statement and found a huge cache of weapons in the church basement. Big stuff, including rotary-barrel 50-caliber machine guns, M67 fragmentation grenades, mortars… you get the picture. Real Christ Holy was preparing for a Real Christ Holy War and has been shut down.”
“What about Andrew Fallowes?”
“Not such good news there. He’s all lawyered up. I mean aplatoonof legal beagles. The lawyers say he knows nuttin about nuttin. Not about Chris Stewart, not about the weapons, either. I guess Fallowes thinks Gunnery Sergeant Jesus brought all them shootin irons down from heaven.”
“The federals or the Wisconsin State Police or… oranybody… they havenothingon Fallowes concerning Christopher Stewart?”
“No.”
Holly says, “That’s crap! No, it’sshit! Fallowes wound Stewart up. Set him in motion. I frackingknowit.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but he’s walking free and will probably continue to walk free. There’s mucho megabucks behind that church, and you know how it goes, right? Money talks, truth walks.”
Izzy fumbles a bottle of pills out of her jeans pocket and gives it to Holly. “Will you open that for me? It’s a two-hand job. The blue ones are antibiotics. I’m supposed to take them with food. The white ones are painkillers. I’ll take two of those after the food.”
Holly gets them out and Izzy swallows a blue pill with Coke. She looks at the two white pills and says, “I can’t wait.”
“You don’t want to get addicted.”
“Right now the only thing I’m addicted to is pain. And fish tacos. Would you get me another one?”
Holly is happy to, because her friend has clearly lost weight. When she comes back, Izzy is grinning. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“About Sista Bessie? She’s going to open the Mingo with a show in August?”
“It’s true.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I got it from Barbara. She’s staying in Betty’s guest house, and she’s agreed to be an honorary Dixie Crystal, at least once, and right here.”
“Can you get me tickets?”
Holly smiles. She’s radiant when she smiles. The years fall away and she’s young again.
She says, “You bet I can. I’ve got friends in the band.”
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