Cover-Up Story by Marian Babson

Lou-Ann’s cutting up pretty bad.’ With that cheery bulletin, he rang off.
    I did check to see if Gerry was in his bedroom then, but there was no sign of his having been there recently. Off nesting with one of his birds, I presumed. Which was no help to me, as usual. I went back to my own room and dressed quickly.
    The Cousins were leaving as I arrived. They sidled past me with the eager escaping faces of males who had been subjected to an overdose of female hysterics.
    Lou-Ann was sitting in a chair in the centre of the room, a heap of tattered, soggy paper handkerchiefs at her feet. She wasn’t actively crying at the moment, just snuffling occasionally, her hands shredding a Kleenex restlessly. Crystal perched on the arm of her chair, an expression of concern on her face, and a full box of Kleenex on her lap. As Lou-Ann let the shredded one fall to the floor, she pulled out a fresh one and handed it to her automatically. It should have been a funny routine but, looking at Lou-Ann’s red blotchy face, it wasn’t.
    Uncle No’ccount leaned against the farther wall, watching them unhappily. His fingers caressed the harmonica, probably he itched to play it. Equally probably, he felt it wouldn’t show proper respect for Lou-Ann’s anxiety. He nodded to me and sketched a brief salute with the harmonica.
    Bart stood by the window, looking intently down into the street. He seemed to have dissociated himself from everyone present, although it was his suite. He didn’t even turn round when I spoke.
    â€˜Is there anything I can do?’
    Lou-Ann raised her head and looked at me pleadingly. ‘Find her, Douglas. She’s lost – she’s lost and gone –’ She broke off, her head cocked, as though to catch an echo of something she could not quite place. (‘You are lost and gone for ever, Oh, my darling, Clementine’.) Fortunately for her peace of mind, the fragment of lyric drifted away.
    â€˜You know your way around this city, Douglas,’ she continued, after the brief pause. ‘Where could she be?’
    â€˜Has anyone called the police?’ I asked.
    â€˜No – and nobody’s going to.’ Bart turned away from the window, his shoulders hunched menacingly. ‘We don’t want no police nosing around here, boy.’ He glanced sideways at Lou-Ann. ‘It wouldn’t be good publicity for the Act. You know how Maw would hate that.’
    â€˜That’s right,’ Lou-Ann agreed reluctantly. ‘Maw wouldn’t want bad publicity. But –’
    â€˜You jes’ leave things be for a little while longer,’ Bart said. ‘She’ll maybe turn up by herself when she feels like it. You never know – she might just be out on a tear.’
    â€˜Maw don’t drink!’ Crystal sounded genuinely shocked. ‘Leastwise, not that much.’
    â€˜How do you know what she mighta decided to do last night? Was you with her?’
    â€˜No – no, Bart.’ Crystal lost colour.
    â€˜She was with me, Bart,’ Lou-Ann said mechanically. ‘We was playing gin rummy.’
    â€˜Yeah?’ Bart glanced at her suspiciously. ‘Going in quite a lot for card games these nights, ain’t you? Maybe I should look in for a hand or two sometimes.’
    â€˜Why don’t you, Bart?’ Lou-Ann turned to him eagerly. For the moment, her mother was forgotten in the place of her bigger, more enduring problem. ‘You ain’t been by in quite a long spell. Maybe we could sit by ourselves and talk awhile.’
    Bart ignored her, returning to his vigil at the window, staring intently down into the street. Was he more worried than he seemed? Lou-Ann sniffed unappealingly, and Crystal, still wary of Bart, passed her another Kleenex.
    â€˜Where’s Sam?’ I spoke over their heads to Uncle No’ccount who, at least, seemed to be keeping calm, if not neutral, in the face of this