Free Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 11 by Misery Loves Maggody

them; he sounded as sad and gray as the water trickling alongside the curb.
    "Can you believe we're going to Graceland?" whispered Estelle. "My heart is pounding, and my mouth is so dry I can't hardly swallow."
    "It's too bad Arly wouldn't come with us," Ruby Bee said, looking down at the pavement. "When I suggested it, she liked to have laughed so hard she fell off the barstool. I don't know what gets into her, Estelle. Sometimes she's moodier than Seezer Buchanon -- and everybody knows to stay out of her way when she comes charging down the aisle at the supermarket. I was there when she couldn't find the tomato paste, and I thought she was going to chew Kevin up and spit out the pieces." She looked up. "Seezer, not Arly. Arly would never spit."
    An elderly couple came outside, both looking a little bewildered. Seconds later, three solemn-faced girls wearing massive backpacks joined the line. They were speaking some funny language, but Ruby Bee didn't seem to notice and Estelle couldn't make out what it was. Next to appear were Cherri Lucinda and Stormy.
    Cherri Lucinda waved at Estelle. "Isn't this exciting?"
    "I was just telling Ruby Bee how my heart's doing the jitterbug," said Estelle. "Where are Taylor and Todd?"
    Stormy made a face. "He bolted into the men's room as soon as they got to the visitors center. She said they'd catch up with us later. The professor went to see if there was some special new biography in the souvenir shop. I mean, how's anybody gonna write something new about a person who's been dead this long? It's not like he's making headlines these days."
    " If he's dead," Cherri Lucinda said, then flinched as she received sharp looks from the foreigners. "My niece's roommate's boss saw him in Minneapolis not that long ago. I think Elvis must have learned something terrible about the mob in Las Vegas so the FBI faked his death and put him in that witness protection thing where they give you a new name and identity. They probably wanted him to have plastic surgery, but he would have refused because he didn't want to dishonor his mama. Elvis was real attached to his mama. Now you got to admit that makes perfect sense, don't you?"
    The foreigners took refuge behind a trash bin. The elderly couple gazed blankly at her. Stormy tugged at the wisps of black hair along the back of her neck. Estelle was trying to find a response when a shuttle bus pulled up to the curb and the doors whooshed open.
    "Next stop, Graceland," said the driver.
    Minutes later they were crowding into the foyer of the sacred site, all too dumbfounded to speak as they gaped at the rooms on either side of them. The tour guide, who was petulant and pudgy rather than perky and petite, rattled off rules about staying together, not wandering off, and most certainly not touching anything, then turned her attention to a room with the longest sofa Estelle had ever seen in her entire life. Swirly blue stained-glass peacocks guarded a room at the rear that contained a black piano and a whole wall of golden curtains.
    Estelle nudged Ruby Bee. "Isn't this awesome?"
    "I suppose so, but I'd hate to see the bill from the upholstery store. And imagine what it must have cost to keep that white carpet clean."
    Her disposition did not improve as they were herded past the dining room, paneled kitchen, down a mirrored staircase to admire the two rooms in the basement, and back up to the fabled Jungle Room, complete with a stone waterfall and gnarly furniture reminiscent of a rain forest.
    "Would you look at this!" Estelle said, so dumbstruck she could barely get out the words. When she received no response from Ruby Bee, she cut behind the elderly couple and joined Cherri Lucinda, who at least had the common courtesy to look impressed. "Doncha love it?"
    "Yeah," she breathed. "See those telephones? Elvis actually held them in his very own hand. I can almost hear him talking to his mama or telling the cook to fry up a peanut-butter sandwich. I may just pass