said valiantly.
Roy emptied the glass and stood up. "I don't think so. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna lock up and go have a couple of beers at Ruby Bee's. Afterward I reckon I'll spend the evening in my room, listening to Beethoven and drinking the remainder of this whiskey."
I turned around and went back to the PD to write up a report. If an alien had stepped out from behind a building, I'd have shot him/her/it on the spot.
"I thought you'd be busier tonight," Estelle said as she climbed onto her stool and automatically reached for the pretzel basket. "Where is everybody?"
Ruby Bee considered pointing out the sheer stupidity of the question but instead sighed and said, "Over at Raz Buchanon's, of course. After everything that's happened there, I'm surprised the tour buses haven't started rolling in. I hear he's raised the price of admission three times today." She glumly assessed the crowd, which consisted of two young married couples in one booth, some strangers eating supper in another, and Jim Bob, Larry Joe Lambertino, and Roy Stiver working on a pitcher in the far corner. Nobody'd put a quarter in the jukebox for a long while, and the ambiance was about as exciting as a canning demonstration at a 4-H club meeting. "There were a goodly number of folks at happy hour, but when it started getting dark, they all left to go watch for flying saucers and shiny white creatures to come out of the woods."
"Did Arly find out any more about those orange lights everybody saw last night?"
"Nobody at the National Guard or the Farberville airport had any suggestions. She called a weatherman in Little Rock and asked him if they could have been weather balloons or stars, but he didn't think so. If she's talked to anyone else, she hasn't bothered to tell me. She didn't show up for supper, even though I went to the trouble of putting aside a piece of lemon icebox pie especially for her. How's that for gratitude?"
"I watched the local news earlier," Estelle said. She paused to reposition a bobby pin, then made sure the spit curls were evenly spaced across her forehead before continuing. "Dr. Sageman said the lights were alien spaceships similar to some seen in one of those South American countries. Dr. McMasterson said they weren't anything more mysterious than clouds catching the last sunlight from the far side of the ridge. Before the interviewer could spit out a word, they were rolling on the floor like a couple of lady mud wrestlers."
"It's funny the way they act around each other, ain't it? After all, they both believe in aliens. They may disagree on where the aliens come from or how they pop up unexpectedly, but you'd think they could work out something." She was going to expound when she saw Cynthia Dodder enter the barroom. "Come join us," she called.
Cynthia took the stool beside Estelle. "Dr. Sageman has appropriated my motel room for his session. He, Rosemary, and the girl are liable to be there for several hours. I sat in the car for a while, but then it began to grow chilly and I'd left my sweater in the room."
"You poor thing," Ruby Bee said, herself having been the victim of gross ingratitude. "Let me get you some hot coffee and a piece of lemon icebox pie."
Estelle moistened her vermilion lips and tried to figure out how to broach the subject tactfully. She finally gave up and said, "What happens in these sessions, anyway? Does he put Dahlia into a trance by swinging a watch back and forth?"
"Not at all," Cynthia said as she accepted a cup of coffee from Ruby Bee. "I've operated the tape recorder in numerous sessions in the last ten years, particularly those with Rosemary and other members of UFORIA. Dr. Sageman has the subject lie down and relax, then creates a mental image of an elevator ascending within a towering skyscraper. When the subject is sufficiently attuned to the image, the elevator doors open and a scene is revealed."
"Gonna be a problem with Dahlia," Ruby Bee said, setting down the pie and a
Roy emptied the glass and stood up. "I don't think so. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna lock up and go have a couple of beers at Ruby Bee's. Afterward I reckon I'll spend the evening in my room, listening to Beethoven and drinking the remainder of this whiskey."
I turned around and went back to the PD to write up a report. If an alien had stepped out from behind a building, I'd have shot him/her/it on the spot.
"I thought you'd be busier tonight," Estelle said as she climbed onto her stool and automatically reached for the pretzel basket. "Where is everybody?"
Ruby Bee considered pointing out the sheer stupidity of the question but instead sighed and said, "Over at Raz Buchanon's, of course. After everything that's happened there, I'm surprised the tour buses haven't started rolling in. I hear he's raised the price of admission three times today." She glumly assessed the crowd, which consisted of two young married couples in one booth, some strangers eating supper in another, and Jim Bob, Larry Joe Lambertino, and Roy Stiver working on a pitcher in the far corner. Nobody'd put a quarter in the jukebox for a long while, and the ambiance was about as exciting as a canning demonstration at a 4-H club meeting. "There were a goodly number of folks at happy hour, but when it started getting dark, they all left to go watch for flying saucers and shiny white creatures to come out of the woods."
"Did Arly find out any more about those orange lights everybody saw last night?"
"Nobody at the National Guard or the Farberville airport had any suggestions. She called a weatherman in Little Rock and asked him if they could have been weather balloons or stars, but he didn't think so. If she's talked to anyone else, she hasn't bothered to tell me. She didn't show up for supper, even though I went to the trouble of putting aside a piece of lemon icebox pie especially for her. How's that for gratitude?"
"I watched the local news earlier," Estelle said. She paused to reposition a bobby pin, then made sure the spit curls were evenly spaced across her forehead before continuing. "Dr. Sageman said the lights were alien spaceships similar to some seen in one of those South American countries. Dr. McMasterson said they weren't anything more mysterious than clouds catching the last sunlight from the far side of the ridge. Before the interviewer could spit out a word, they were rolling on the floor like a couple of lady mud wrestlers."
"It's funny the way they act around each other, ain't it? After all, they both believe in aliens. They may disagree on where the aliens come from or how they pop up unexpectedly, but you'd think they could work out something." She was going to expound when she saw Cynthia Dodder enter the barroom. "Come join us," she called.
Cynthia took the stool beside Estelle. "Dr. Sageman has appropriated my motel room for his session. He, Rosemary, and the girl are liable to be there for several hours. I sat in the car for a while, but then it began to grow chilly and I'd left my sweater in the room."
"You poor thing," Ruby Bee said, herself having been the victim of gross ingratitude. "Let me get you some hot coffee and a piece of lemon icebox pie."
Estelle moistened her vermilion lips and tried to figure out how to broach the subject tactfully. She finally gave up and said, "What happens in these sessions, anyway? Does he put Dahlia into a trance by swinging a watch back and forth?"
"Not at all," Cynthia said as she accepted a cup of coffee from Ruby Bee. "I've operated the tape recorder in numerous sessions in the last ten years, particularly those with Rosemary and other members of UFORIA. Dr. Sageman has the subject lie down and relax, then creates a mental image of an elevator ascending within a towering skyscraper. When the subject is sufficiently attuned to the image, the elevator doors open and a scene is revealed."
"Gonna be a problem with Dahlia," Ruby Bee said, setting down the pie and a
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