Prudy's Back!

by Marja McGraw

  “That little girl was heartbroken. Her daddy, who always fussed over her, had betrayed her. He’d said something so mean that she couldn’t do nothin’ but cry. I felt downright sorry for her.”

  “Do you know if Mr. Stanton went out again that night?” I asked. “How late did you stay out, watching the neighbors?”

  “Hey, now, wait a minute. You make me sound like a Peeping Tom. I wasn’t looking in windows or nothin’. I just watched from our porch. Except for what happened with Nicky and Opal. And even then I wasn’t peekin’ in their windows. I was just listening. Couldn’t help myself.”

  Cathy walked into the room and Slim looked relieved. “Cathy, this is Mrs. Lewis. I told you about her. And the other one is Sandi Webster, that detective that called here.”

  “Pleased to meet you ladies,” Cathy said. “I’ve brought some coffee and cookies.” The trim little woman with silver hair and sparkling eyes set a tray with goodies on the coffee table and took a seat next to Slim. She folded her hands in her lap and waited to hear what we were talking about.

  “Thank you,” I said, picking up a cookie. They were homemade chocolate chip, one of my favorites.

  “Now, Slim, did you see or hear anything else that night? It appears that you might be the only one who saw anything. And, did you see Nick Stanton leave his house again?” I was mentally crossing my fingers, hoping he’d seen something else.

  “Nah, I listened to Opal crying for a couple of seconds and felt so bad that I came home and went to bed. There was somethin’ about that little girl that grabbed my heart and squeezed it. Nicky shouldn’ta talked to her that way.”

  “What about Hector Brown?” I asked. “Do you know if he’s still around?”

  “Ol’ Hector? Sure. He’s back livin’ with his mom. When he got outta prison this last time, he knew he’d better straighten up or they’d throw the key away if he was sent back. He’s trying to straighten out.”

  “Where does his mother live?” Prudy asked.

  “Why, she’s still here on the block. Same ol’ house. You could probably catch Hector at home right now. He don’t go out much anymore. Says he’s really and truly gonna do right this time and stay outta trouble.”

  He and Cathy glanced at each other and chuckled.

  “Yeah, like he’s not going to do anything wrong,” Cathy said. “That guy’s just about ready to pull something. He’s gotten so used to prison that he can’t seem to pull things together on the outside. I believe he actually wants to go back.”

  “Do you remember which house is his, Mrs. Lewis?” Slim asked.

  “Why, yes I do, Slim, but thanks for asking. And you may call me Prudy. Mrs. Lewis makes me feel like an old woman, especially when the words are coming out of a mouth as old as yours.”

  Slapping Slim’s knee, Cathy almost choked on her coffee. “You’re really something, Prudy. I could learn to like you.”

  Prudy grinned. “Now Slim, it’s a good thing I didn’t know you were out that night. I would have hounded you for the truth. Why, I should – ”

  “You ain’t gonna tell my…” Slim started to laugh. “My folks ain’t even alive anymore. As if you could still threaten to tattle on me. You really had me an’ Stretch watchin’ ourselves around you. Old habits die hard.”

  Prudy grinned.

  “One day Stretch told me about that talk you had with him after Matty died. It was kinda like you had the same talk with me. I quit screwin’ around, found me a good wife and got myself a life.

  “Say, maybe you shoulda had that talk with Hector. Maybe you coulda turned him around.”

  Twenty-three

  Prudy and I asked a few more questions and left, with Slim and Cathy standing on the porch waving at us.

  “One of these days I want you to tell me exactly what you said to Stretch. You really managed to turn those boys around.”

  “Oh, they helped themselves. It wasn’t me. I just gave them something to think about.” Prudy was downplaying her role, showing a humble side of herself that surprised me.

  “Okay, which house is Hector’s? Let’s see if he’s home. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone on our trip out here today.”

  “After that can we go take a look at my old house?” Prudy asked.

  “Of course.”

  We walked back across the street and down three houses. I noticed Prudy was walking easier and wondered if the exercise was helping her.

  While knocking on the door and waiting, I listened for sounds from inside. I thought I heard a television, but couldn’t be sure. I knocked again, a little louder. We waited a moment and the door finally opened a crack.

  “Yes?” A woman peeked out through the slit in the door.

  “Esther? Is that you?” Prudy asked.

  The door opened a bit wider. “Who are you?”

  “Esther, it’s me. Prudy. Open the door and welcome me back.”

  The door opened and a shriveled little old lady greeted Prudy with open arms. “Prudy? Is that really you? Well, I’ll be. You’re an old lady!” The woman was grinning, showing straight but yellowed teeth. She had to be quite a bit older than Prudy, maybe in her nineties.

  “Yeah, and so are you. So, are you going to invite my friend and me into the house?”

  “Get your old butt in here,” Esther said. “I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to see anyone. What are you doing here?” She led us into her immaculate kitchen. It was old, but clean. I detected a slight scent of something like cooked cabbage or maybe sauerkraut.

  “Esther, you’re forgetting your manners. I’ve brought a guest with me. This is Sandi Webster. And she doesn’t want to hear you talking about old butts.”

  “My apologies,” Esther said, clinging to Prudy’s hand. “It’s true, I did forget my manners. Now come on in and take a load off.”

  Prudy shook her head. “Some people never change. You sound the same as you did back in 1950.”

  “So what brings you back to the neighborhood?” Esther asked.

  “Actually, we were hoping that Hector would be here,” I said.

  “That boy! Now there’s a royal pain in the… Oh, I almost forgot myself again.”

  “So, is he here?” Prudy pushed.

  “He’s here. Sleeping the day away, as usual. He doesn’t work and he doesn’t help out around here. He just sleeps all the time.”

  “Do you think he’d come out to talk to us?” I asked.

  “Let me go see if I can wake him up.” Esther left the room and disappeared slowly down a hallway. Prudy and I stood in the kitchen and waited for her.

  “Let’s sit down at the table,” Prudy suggested. “You know, the kitchen used to be the center of the universe for us. We, meaning us women, sat at our kitchen tables and solved the world’s problems. Too bad no one would listen to us. We knew a lot more than anyone gave us credit for.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “I spend a lot of time at my own kitchen table. I’ve solved a lot of problems while sitting there.”

  We heard loud voices coming from the rear of the house, with several expletives coming through loud and clear. Apparently Hector wasn’t happy about being summoned to the kitchen.

  Esther returned shortly. “Hector will be out in a few minutes. He just has to get dressed.”

  “We heard,” Prudy said. Her tone told me Hector might be about to get an earful from her. I hoped I was wrong. He wasn’t a little boy who was going to sit by docilely while Prudy gave him a hard time. No, he’d done hard time.

  Esther offered us coffee while we waited. I refused, knowing I’d already had my limit. Prudy accepted. I had visions of searching for a public restroom on the ride home.

  Hector didn’t keep us waiting long. “So. Prudence Lewis. What brings you back to the slums?” Hector was average height and build, but average stopped right there. He had longish gray hair, which he hadn’t bothered to comb before joining us. He was wearing baggy jeans. No belt. They hung low on his hips. He was jailin’
, wearing the prison look. And he had a teardrop tattooed on his face, along with dots on each knuckle. This was a hard man who’d spent a lot of time in prison.

  “Hector, this is no slum. You – ”

  “Yeah, whatever. What do you want? And who’s the little hotty?” He glanced at me while talking, the smell of stale beer and unbrushed teeth floating from where he stood on the other side of the table.

  “This little hotty is a private investigator. And I have some questions for you,” I said, not liking his attitude at all. “My name is Sandi Webster. Ms. Webster to you.”

  We were getting off to a bad beginning, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “What do you want?” Hector asked. “I’ve already done my time, even though it was a bad rap, and I ain’t done nothin’ illegal lately.” He grinned at me. His teeth were yellow like his mother’s, and he was missing a tooth.

  “We’re looking into Matthew Bremmer’s death,” I said.

  “Oh, poor Matthew.” Esther put her arthritic hand to her cheek. “That was such a tragedy.”

  “Ah, you never liked that old coot anyway.” Hector gave his mother a look that would have made most people run for the nearest exit.

  “Now, Hector, you know – ”

  “I know nothin’. You never liked him. He was just a crazy old man. You said so yourself.” Hector needed to learn some respect toward his mother. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the one to teach him, although I would have loved to have the chance.

  “If we can just talk for a minute, Prudy and I will be on our way and out of your hair.”

  “What do you want to know? I can’t tell you much. Except I didn’t do it. I can tell you that much. Some people thought I might be involved, but I wasn’t.”

  “Where were you that night?” I asked.

  “You want me to remember back to 1943? Are you nuts? Do you remember what you were doing on any certain date when you were a teenager? Yeah, right. Look who I’m talking to. You probably do. You’re probably one of those little ladies that kept a diary. Am I right?”

  “I would think you might remember a night that led up to a murder. Even if you weren’t involved.” He was playing with me, and I knew it. I wasn’t here to discuss diaries. Or my memories. The only important memory here was his. Or…

  “Esther? What about you? Do you remember anything about the night before Matthew Bremmer was murdered?”

  “Well, I – ”

  “Shut up, Ma! I’ll take care of this.” Hector sat down across from me at the kitchen table and stared directly into my eyes. I knew his ploy. He was trying to make me look away first. Kids do that to each other, but it was scary coming from a grown man like Hector. I stared at the teardrop on his cheek. I didn’t blink.

  Hector laughed, blinking. “You’re one tough broad. Okay, let me think.” He paused, but I knew it was for effect. He remembered that night. I could see it on his face. He coughed and cleared his throat.

  Prudy nudged my knee, under the table. I looked at her. She quickly flicked her eyes at Hector and back to me, involuntarily touching her cheek in the same spot as his teardrop. She rubbed her knuckles. Hector was making her feel uncomfortable. For all of her bravado, she knew this was a hardened criminal and he scared her. She was out of her comfort zone. If I had to meet with Hector again, I’d leave her behind. And I knew I’d have to explain the tattoos while we drove home.

  “Okay, ladies. Here’s what I recall about that night. I went out with the boys. We had cocktails at a lounge and came in late. I went right to bed and slept like a baby.” Hector gave us a nasty grin that seemed to come naturally.

  “In other words, you and your friends went to a local bar and got drunk, and when you came home you passed out.” It bothered me that he was being smart about that night.

  “Yeah, but I like my version better.”

  “Would you like some more coffee?” Esther asked, looking at Prudy.

  “No, thank you, but may I use your powder room?” The coffee was catching up with Prudy, although I had a feeling she really wanted to get away from Hector for a minute.

  Esther and Prudy left the room, leaving Hector and me alone. He watched the women leave.

  “Crazy ol’ broad. I see she’s still wearin’ that ratty old coat.”

  I ignored his comment. “So, Hector, what’s the real story? Do you remember anything else about that night? Did you see anything? Hear anything?”

  “I saw lots around here. Just because it was the forties don’t mean people were really all that innocent. Take ol’ man Stanton, for example. He harped at that little girl of his ‘til I thought she’d run away. And the Framer boys. Yeah, I remember them well. Thought they was hot stuff. Ol’ Stretch was always prancin’ around the neighborhood like he thought he owned it. Their folks didn’t treat ‘em good.”

  “Stretch is a retired dentist now,” I commented.

  “No shit? I figured he’d end up like me.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “I’d like to see him now. Take him down a notch.

  “Now, my ma, she was a good woman. She always meant well, but she ain’t that bright.

  “Course, there was Brian Lewis, too. Mr. Perfect. That’s what I called him. Thought he knew it all.” He frowned at the memory of Brian.

  I was growing tired of Hector’s posturing and opinions, wanting facts. I fully understood he was one of the bad guys. I’d met his type before. His hard attitude wasn’t an act. I should have been frightened, but for some reason, I wasn’t. I chalked it up to being raised by a take no prisoners mother.

  “Listen, girly girl,” he said, “all I can tell you is that I wasn’t home that night. And when I did come home, I went to sleep. I didn’t hear nothin’, and I didn’t see nothin’. And that’s the end of that story.”

  I watched him as he spoke. He was a jerk, but my gut feeling was that he was telling the truth.

  “Oh, yeah, there was one thing. I almost forgot about seein’ Nick Stanton that night.” Hector’s ugly smile was back in place. “It was what he said that I remember best.”

  Twenty-four

  I waited while Hector lit a cigarette and retrieved a beer can from the refrigerator. He was purposely dragging this out. He glanced over his shoulder at me.

  “Want a beer? Or do you wanna hear what ol’ Nicky said that night?”

  “Of course, I do. Not the beer, your story. I want to hear your story.”

  “Nicky was at the same bar as me and my friends that night. He was talkin’ to some guy I never saw before. I overheard him tellin’ his buddy about the old man on his street that tried to get cozy with little Opal. He said the old man wasn’t gonna get away with it. He said… Let me see. Oh yeah. He said his nosey neighbor, Brian Lewis, couldn’t be there to protect that old man all the time. His chance to get even would come.”

  “Hector,” Prudy asked, returning to the kitchen, “he said Brian was standing in his way?”

  “Yeah. He said he thought about takin’ your husband out, too, but you remember Nicky. He was just a lotta talk. He pumped those weights and built up his body, but it was all show. He was a jackass, too, just like the Framer boys.” He took a long swig off his beer. “Lots of fools in this neighborhood.”

  I waited to hear more, but he just watched me.

  “That’s it, girlie. There ain’t no more to tell.” His eyelids dropped until he was squinting at me, almost daring me to ask something else. I knew when to cut and run. His squint was devious and distrustful.

  “Esther, it was nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand. “Prudy, let’s go.”

  Prudy followed me out the door without a word. I thought maybe she’d just seen a chapter of real life that she was wishing she hadn’t read.

  We walked back to the car in silence, but it didn’t last long.

  “Do you know what those tattoos were for?”

  I’d known Prudy wanted answers.

  “The teardrop usually represents a violent crime like robbery, felony assault or
murder, something along those lines. I’ve seen men with more than one teardrop tattoo. And it gave me the chills. The dots that were tattooed on his knuckles stand for the amount of time he’s done in prison. One for each year. Our little Hector has done lots of prison time.”

  “He wasn’t so bad as a kid. I sure didn’t expect him to turn out the way he did.”

  “Okay, Prudy, let’s see if anyone is at home at your old house.” I didn’t want to think about Hector and his tattoos any more than I had to.

  “There’s a car in the driveway,” she said hopefully. “I don’t think it was there when we first drove by.”

  A middle-aged woman answered our knock at the yellow house and warmly invited Prudy in to look around after Prudy explained her reason for visiting.

  “Has it changed much since you lived here?” the woman asked.

  “Not really.” Prudy was grinning, although it looked like she might be close to tears. I decided to give the two women some time alone, so I excused myself and walked outside to look around the neighborhood.

  Hector was standing outside, on the front porch, beer can in hand. He threw me a mocking wave, a look of distain on his face. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t have to meet with him again. He hadn’t scared me, but he did make me feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  Prudy spent about half an hour looking at her old house, and when she finally met me in the front yard, we quietly left the neighborhood.

  She sat silently for the first couple of miles. “You know, Sandi, I didn’t realize what I was getting into. I’m an old lady now. I could have handled these people when I was young, but as much as I hate to admit it, I just don’t have the energy I used to.”