Free Mother Finds a Body by Gypsy Rose Lee Page A

fix your hair? Just because you’re camping out is no reason to let yourself go like this. I think you’re gaining weight, too. I knew this trip would turn out like this. You’ll get sunburned and fat, and . . .”
    â€œBiff and I went to see the sheriff,” I said. “We went out to the grave and . . .”
    Mother looked at me for a long moment, “Well?” she asked.
    â€œWe found a body. Not our body, another one.”
    â€œPlease stop calling it our body,” Mother said petulantly. “It sounds so—so possessive. How do you know it wasn’t ours, anyway?”
    â€œThey dug that one up last night,” I said. “This new one has a knife in its back.”
    Mother sat down next to Gee Gee. She arranged her dress carefully over her bare legs and placed her hands on the table. I hadn’t expected much animation from her, but I would have liked her to act as though she had heard me.
    â€œNot only that,” I said, “but this one had no face.”
    Mother smiled up at me. “Stop joshing, Louise,” she said, “Whoever heard of a corpse without a face?”
    I poured some water into the washbasin and doused my headin it. It was cool and it refreshed me. Mother handed me a towel and waited until I dried my face and hands.
    â€œWell, come on,” she said. “Let’s go look at it.”
    Gee Gee shivered.
    Mother changed her tone. “I mean, let’s go see if we can help the police.”
    â€œThere’s no police, Mother, just a sheriff.”
    â€œThen we can help the sheriff.”
    Mother walked ahead of Gee Gee and me. I could see the blue gingham of her dress as she hurried toward the woods. I heard her hum her little tune, “I know a place where the sun never shines . . .”
    â€œSure you want to go?” I asked Gee Gee. “It isn’t pretty, you know.”
    â€œI don’t give a damn what it looks like so long as I don’t recognize him,” Gee Gee said.
    I suddenly cared, though. I needed fortification to look at it again. I took Gee Gee’s arm and led her back to the trailer.
    â€œLet’s get that drink we promised ourselves,” I said.
    Gee Gee got the glasses. I uncovered the bottle, and we had two ryes each. Neat and fast. The trailer was empty. I wondered vaguely where everyone was. Then I felt relieved there was no one around. I was in no mood for casual pleasantries.
    Gee Gee and I went back toward the woods.
    When we arrived at the burial place, I saw Mother leaning over the grave. The sheriff, hat in hand, was standing next to her.
    â€œI can’t say for sure if I know him or not,” Mother said. “I don’t know who it could be. When Louise told me he had no face I didn’t believe her.”
    â€œLouise?” the sheriff asked.
    â€œThat’s my daughter,” Mother said. “Louise is her real name. Gypsy is a stage name, a burlesque stage name.”
    The sheriff nodded in sympathy at Mother’s inflection of the word burlesque.
    â€œI cried for days when she first went into that awful theater. . .” Mother started crying again at the very thought of it. She leaned her head on the sheriff’s chest and let herself go.
    Biff looked at me and winked. “While she was crying, though,” he said, “she was eating, which was a damn sight more than when they were doing that broken-down vaudeville act of theirs.”
    The sheriff began to pat Mother’s tousled head. Then he caught himself. With a quick glance to see if we had been watching him, he pulled his hand away.
    â€œYou’re a brave little woman,” he said to Mother. “Burying that body all by yourself. That took real courage.”
    Mother stopped sobbing. She brushed a fat tear from her cheek. “A mother’s love, you know,” she said. She swayed a little at that, and the sheriff put out his arm again. Mother naturally swayed right into