Johnson scratched his forehead. “There was a Jesse that lived down at the pumpkin farm...”
“She’s long gone,” Clarice said. “That’s JesseHammer. She’s a nurse up in the Cities.”
“Hammer doesn’t seem right,” Johnson said.
Clarice: “That’s because she used to be JesseWagnerbefore she got married. The Wagner pumpkin farm. She married Larry Hammer, Joe and Barb Hammer’s boy.”
Johnson ticked a finger at her. “That’s right. I got it now.” They sounded so small-town that even Virgil was impressed.
Griffin said, “That’s the first Jesse I’ve heard of. You’re sure she’s up in the Twin Cities?”
“She was for sure,” Clarice said. “Her folks still live here, if you want to talk to them. The Wagner farm is a couple milessouth, right down the highway. There’s a big orange plywood pumpkin sign out front. Can’t miss it.”
“I might check with them,” Griffin said. “All I need to do is hand this Jesse a piece of paper. After that, I go home, and she goes to jail if they keep putting these things out. Mattel is really, really pissed. You can’t go around cutting up Barbie and Ken without taking some serious heat.”
Clarice: “They cut up Ken?”
Griffin hesitated, then dipped into her bag again and came up with a Ken doll, wrapped in newspaper. She pulled the newspaper off and put the doll next to Barbie.
“My God,” Clarice said. “That’s not something you see every day.”
“They call him Boner Ken,” Griffin said. Back to the bag, she pulled out the top of a Ken doll box. The regular label had been pasted over with a similarly colored patch that read “Boner Ken... the Ken of your dreams.”
“Not very realistic,” Virgil said of the doll’s most prominent appendage.
“I guess that would depend on... your personal... perspective,” Clarice said.
—
Griffin said that she was staying at Ma and Pa Kettle’s River Resort, which was, she said, eight rooms behind Ma and Pa Kettle’s Restaurant and Lounge.
“Stay away from the vodka,” Virgil said. “It might have a few uncertified ingredients.”
“I’d be happy to stay away from the whole damn state if I can find Jesse McGovern...”
Clarice: “Say, does Ken talk?”
Griffin said, “Some do. Not this one. But they’re all special,” she said. Ken’s most prominent appendage was upright, and she pushed it down: another switch. Ken’s head began to vibrate.
They all looked at it for a moment, then Clarice said, “Ohh!”
Virgil: “I always assumed Ken was gay. But that...”
“There’s also a Missionary model, and a BJ model, which is their most extreme version. Thosedohave recorded messages, and they all vibrate,” Griffin said. “You wouldn’t want to hear what they say.”
“I kinda would,” Johnson said.
“He’s a pervert,” Clarice said to Griffin. “That’s why I stay with him.”
Griffin gave Johnson a testing look and said, “I can see that in him. You’re a lucky girl.”
“Everybody, shut up,” Virgil said. To Griffin: “What exactly have you done so far?”
Griffin outlined her investigation, which had produced nothing useful, except some UPS shipping labels that came from a variety of towns, all in a wide half circle around Trippton, but none from the Wisconsin side of the river.
When she was done, Virgil said he’d make some calls to his sources in Trippton, and back her up if she found anything on her own. Clarice told Griffin about an outdoor store where she could get some boots and how to get there. “Buy some Sorel’s. S-o-r-e-l.”
“I will,” Griffin said. “I hope I can get out the driveway.”
