Murder Carries a Torch by Anne George Read Free Book Online Page A

be a big kit,” Luke said.
    Tammy smiled. “Now, aren’t you doing fine.”
    “Luke? You awake enough to tell me what happened?” I asked.
    “I saw Virginia.”
    “In the church?”
    “Yes. In the church.”
    I leaned closer because his voice was getting fainter.
    “Are you sure it was Virginia? What happened? Did you fall and hit your head?”
    There was no answer.
    “He’s gone again,” Tammy said, checking gauges. “He’s okay, though. If he’s got a fractured skull, it’ll be tomorrow that we have to worry about. The swelling.”
    I could have done without that news.
    “How long have y’all been married?” Tammy asked.
    “We’re not. He’s my cousin.”
    “He one of the snake handlers?”
    “What?”
    “At the church. Is he one of the snake handlers? We get called up there every now and then. Last time the fellow’s arm was the size of an elephant’s leg, I swear, before they called. Wasn’t much we could do for him. Course he’d been drinking strychnine, too.”
    Tammy looked up and saw the expression on my face. I’m sure my mouth was open.
    “What?” she asked. “Y’all aren’t handlers?”
    I found my voice. “Of snakes? Good God, no.”
    “Well, I just figured maybe you were since you were at the Jesus Is Our Life and Heaven Hereafter church.”
    I was having trouble breathing. “People handle snakes there?”
    “Oh, sure.” She studied me. “You really didn’t know?”
    I shook my head no.
    “Didn’t you see that box at the front? That’s where they keep the snakes.”
    And the paramedics had seen that box and that was why they were falling over each other wanting to know if the snakes were up. And I hadn’t put two and two together.
    My Lord. I put my head down on the gurney. It was too surreal. Four days ago, I had been on the Concorde zipping back from Europe. Today I was riding in an ambulance down Chandler Mountain from a snake-handling church.
    “You okay, ma’am?” Tammy asked.
    “I think so.” I just hoped the ambulance didn’t have too many more curves to swing around.
    “They say that Chandler Mountain has the most and the biggest rattlesnakes in the world,” Tammy said proudly. “I wonder if that woman in the church was bit.”
    Not even thoughts of a sale at Bed Bath & Beyond could rescue me, especially when Tammy said, “Your cousin here looks like the Chandler Mountain booger got a hold of him.”
    “The Chandler Mountain booger?”
    “Yes, ma’am. You never heard of it?”
    I shook my head no; Tammy seemed surprised.
    “Sort of a cross between a bear and a wildcat. I’ve never seen it, but lots of folks up here have. It makes an ungodly noise. Kind of a whine and a screech and a moan all at one time.” Tammy shook her head. “You don’t want to get in the way of the booger. No, ma’am.”
    For a moment I thought she was teasing, trying to see how much a naive flatland foreigner would believe.
    “A cross between a bear and a wildcat?”
    “Oh, yes, ma’am. You hear that noise, you want to get away quick.”
    She was serious.
     
    The staff of the Blount County Medical Center emergency room was expecting us. Luke was whisked off and I was ushered into a small glass cubicle to answer all of the questions that I could.
    “Bye.” Tammy stuck her head in the doorway. “She don’t know about the snakes, Irene. The booger, neither.”
    Irene waved. “Just as well, Tammy. Bye.”
    Irene was a middle-aged woman whose head fit right on her shoulders. Whoever had broken the girl’s neck at the church would have had trouble with Irene. I shivered, pushing the thought aside.
    “You want some coffee, Mrs. Nelson?”
    I nodded. We’d get the name straightened out soon enough. When Irene got up, I saw that she was built like a box. Not only was there no neck, there was no discernible waist. She was back in a moment with a Styrofoam cup of coffee, though, and the nicest smile. Irene, I decided gratefully, was the perfect person for this job,