by R.J. Ellory
“You committed him to a term at Parchman Farm.”
Wallace smiled. “Hell, I commit someone to a term at Parchman half a dozen times a month. When was this?”
“Eighteen months ago—”
“Eighteen months ago? You have any idea of the number of cases I hear in a week, let alone eighteen months?”
“I just thought you might remember this one.”
“And why would that be, Sheriff Gaines? Please enlighten me.”
“Missing some fingers on his right hand. Charged with breaking and entering, eyewitness statement from a single individual, nothing to corroborate her statement, and you found him guilty.”
“Well, Sheriff, if I found him guilty, there is a very strong likelihood that he was guilty. Circumstantial evidence can be damning if there’s enough of it.”
“I understand this, but it seems that there was no other evidence aside from the witness statement.”
“Well, then she must have been very convincing and the defendant must have been very unconvincing. I do not commit someone to a term of detention lightly, Sheriff, and I think you know that.”
“Do you remember the case?”
“Not specifically, no.”
“So there’s nothing you can recall that we might have missed about this case? We have looked and looked, and we just can’t understand why he was sentenced to a jail term.”
“Like I said, son, if I sent him to the Farm, then I must have had very good reason to do so.”
“Do you remember if Matthias Wade had anything to do with that case?”
“What is it with you and Matthias Wade? He upset you somehow? What on earth would interest Matthias Wade about this Regis person?”
“The fact that Clifton Regis and Della Wade were in a relationship together.”
Wallace hesitated and then said, “And this Clifton Regis is a colored man, I presume.”
“Yes, sir, he is a colored man.”
Wallace nodded slowly. “Oh. Well, now I understand why Matthias Wade might want this man in Parchman Farm, but my decision to incarcerate was not influenced or coerced in any way by Matthias Wade. Of that I can assure you.”
Gaines sat back in his chair, seemed to relax. “Well, Judge, I am greatly relieved to hear that.”
“I am curious as to why you might have thought me involved with Matthias Wade. His father I know, of course. Anyone of my generation was well-known to Earl, and vice versa, but Matthias no, not so readily. I understand him to be a little headstrong, a little impetuous, and I can appreciate why he might have possessed some concern about his sister becoming involved with a colored man.”
“Why would he be concerned, Judge?”
Wallace smiled; the question was so meaningless as to not warrant a reply.
“So that’s all there is to this?” Wallace asked.
“Yes, sir, that’s all.”
Wallace got up, indicated the door. “Well, if there’s anything else I can assist you with, let me know.”
Gaines reached the door, Ross right there beside him, and then he turned and looked back at Wallace. “Do you remember the woman, Judge? The one who gave the statement in court?”
“The Henderson woman? No, I don’t remember her, sorry.”
“Okay. Thank you for your time, sir,” Gaines said, and left the room.
Ross closed the door gently behind him. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then he smiled and said, “The lying son of a bitch.”
66
There was a message from Hagen at Wallace’s office. Gaines was given it as he and Ross left. Gaines asked if he could use one of their telephones.
Barbara took the call back at Breed County, told Gaines that Hagen had received word from a Sheriff Gradney in Lucedale and also a call from Maryanne Benedict, that Hagen had driven out there to see her. Gaines asked if Hagen had given the reason for Gradney’s call.
“He didn’t say, Sheriff,” she replied. “The calls came back-to-back, the other sheriff first, then Miss Benedict, and Richard just hurried on out of here.”
Gaines called Maryanne’s house, spoke with her briefly, learned that she had received word from Della Wade, and that Della Wade was en route to see her.
Gaines—just as Hagen had done—told her to do whatever she could to keep Della Wade there until he arrived.
Gulfport was a good sixty or seventy miles, and Gaines floored the accelerator.
Ross was the first to reference Wallace’s misstep, that he had inadvertently used Dolores Henderson’s name without Gaines ever referring to her directly.
“You ever wish you didn’t know, Nate? You ever wish that you’d taken some other job where this kind of shit didn’t take over your life?”
“Nope,” he said. “This kind of shit is the thing that keeps me interested in staying alive.”
Gaines smiled sardonically.
“It does make me wonder how far it goes,” Ross said. “I want to know if Kidd is involved and if it’s about money or if it’s about something else.”
“Ninety-nine times in a hundred, it’s money. That’s my experience,” Gaines replied.
“Well, Wallace is not in the poorhouse, and Kidd sure as hell is a wealthy man, so I don’t know what the Sam Hill they’re after.”
“You go down that road, no matter how much you have, it’s never enough.”
“Crazy sons of bitches,” Ross said.
“Wallace’ll be on the phone to Wade now. I’d bet my house on it,” Ross said.
“I reckon he is,” Gaines replied. “Tell you the truth, I am just sick and tired of beating around the edges of this and getting no straight answers. Figured it was time to bring it to their doorsteps rather than wait for them to kill someone else.”
“You think Matthias started all of this by murdering that poor girl?”
“I do, Nate. I do. I reckon he was as jealous as hell, couldn’t believe that she wanted Michael Webster and not him, got it into his head that he had to have her. Maybe he tried to tell her that in the woods that night. Maybe she laughed at him, made him mad, and then he choked her. Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her, but she wound up dead. Michael found her, tried to bring her back the only way he could think how.”
“Scary shit, that is,” Ross interjected. “I read about that stuff and it scares the living Jesus out of me.”
“Well, I think Webster was already fragile from his experiences in the war, and then the grief . . . well, I think he just lost his mind. I don’t think he even understood what he was doing or why. I think he just did something, anything, rather than accept the fact that the girl he loved was dead.”
“But putting a snake inside of her . . . What the hell?”
“Oh, believe me, there’s far worse than that. I mean, look at what happened to Webster. Someone cut his head off and buried it out behind my house. Made his hand into a fucking candle, for Christ’s sake.”
“Wade did that, you think?”
“I think Wade got Leon Devereaux to do it, and it was done in Devereaux’s trailer. That’s why we need to find him. I honestly believe that we can get him to turn state’s evidence against Wade if we present him with the choices. People like that will always work for whoever offers the most money or the most threat to their survival.”
“Well, maybe Della has something,” Ross said. “Maybe she can help us with this Leon Devereaux.”
Little else was said for the remainder of the journey. Gaines seemed in a world of his own, Ross similarly distracted by his own thoughts. They made good time, and it wasn’t yet five when they pulled up in front of the Benedict house and got out of the car. Hagen’s car was already there, but there was no sign of any other vehicle that might have ferried Della to Gulfport.
Maryanne had seen them from the window and came out to greet both Gaines and Ross.
“She’s not here yet,” she said before Gaines had a chance to ask.
They went on through to the kitchen, and it was here that Hagen infor
med Gaines and Ross of the discovery of Leon Devereaux’s body.
“Shot through the eye,” he said. “Gradney called me, told me someone had found his body in the other trailer, the one we didn’t check.”
Gaines was left without words. Ross couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Said he’d been there the better part of a week,” Hagen went on. “Some kid found him, apparently.”
“A kid?” Gaines asked.
“That’s what Gradney said. Said that some kid was a friend of Devereaux’s, went out there with fried chicken and visited him, and he was the one who found the body.”
“Jesus Christ almighty,” Gaines said. “I don’t think this could get much worse.”
Maryanne came in from the front hall. “She’s here,” she said. “Della. Outside.”
Gaines got up, Hagen also.
“Stay here,” Gaines said. “I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed by the number of people.”
Gaines stood by the kitchen doorway, waited for Maryanne to get Della Wade into the front hallway before he presented himself.
“Sheriff Gaines,” she said.
“Miss Wade,” he replied.
“I think it was Leon Devereaux who hurt Clifton.”
67
Gaines had to tell Della Wade that Leon Devereaux was dead.
“Dead?” She looked at the faces around her—Maryanne, Nate Ross, Richard Hagen, and then back to Gaines.
“Someone shot him,” Gaines said.
“Shot him? Who? Who shot him?”
“We don’t know, Miss Wade. Someone found him today in his trailer. Apparently, he’d been dead for about a week.”
“Matthias?” she asked. “Did Matthias kill him?”
“We don’t know, Miss Wade. Do you think it might have been Matthias?”
“Of course,” she said, not a moment’s hesitation in her response. “I think Devereaux did what he did to Clifton, and I think he might have killed Michael Webster, too. I think Leon Devereaux has been doing a lot of things for Matthias, and with all of this going on, I would think that Matthias would be scared that Devereaux would be caught. And then he might talk, and that would be the end of Matthias.”
“I understand that,” Gaines said, “but where did you get this name from? How do you know about Leon Devereaux?”
“Well, he’s been around for years. But as far as being directly involved in this business now, Eugene told me.”
“Eugene? Your brother?”
“Yes,” Della replied. “I called him. I told him that I was afraid of Matthias, that I thought Matthias might have done something bad, and he said that I didn’t need to be worried about what Matthias might do, but about someone called Leon Devereaux.”
“And did Eugene say how he knew about Devereaux?”
“He said that Matthias told him that Leon Devereaux would come visit him if he caused any trouble.”
“And why would Matthias threaten his own brother like that?”
“When Eugene left, he went without anything. He didn’t want anything from our father, and he wanted nothing from Matthias. Apparently, Matthias told him that he was going to disown him, that he would no longer be a Wade, that there would be nothing in the estate for him when our father died. Eugene told him that he couldn’t do that, that Matthias might have control of the family estate, but Eugene was still legally entitled to some recompense from the will. Matthias said there wouldn’t be any will, that it would all come to him as the eldest son. He said that’s what their father wanted, and that’s the way it was going to be. He said that papers had already been signed, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. They argued, of course. Matthias said he could have Eugene killed, that he knew people who would do that. He said that if he tried to take any legal action against the estate or Matthias himself, he would send Devereaux to shoot him in the head.”
“He said that? Those precise words, that he would send Devereaux to shoot him in the head?”
“That’s what Eugene told me.”
“And do you think Eugene would confirm any of this?” Gaines asked.
“Legally? No, I don’t think he would. I think he is out of the family and has absolutely no desire to become involved in any way. I think he has gotten used to whatever life he lives now, and no amount of money would ever bring him back here.”
“So you don’t believe he’d make a statement to this effect, that Matthias had threatened him, said he would get Devereaux to shoot him in the head?”
“No, I don’t think he would.”
Gaines leaned back in the chair. He looked at Hagen, at Ross, at Maryanne.
“Christ almighty,” he said. “This just gets crazier and crazier.”
“So what can you do, Sheriff? Can you arrest Matthias? Can you put him somewhere where he won’t hurt me or Eugene or anyone else?”
“Right now I have nothing, Della. I have your suspicion that Matthias killed Leon Devereaux. I have our suspicions that Devereaux attacked Clifton, maybe that he killed Michael Webster, but there is no evidence.”
“I don’t know exactly what happened to Clifton,” Della said. “As far as I can tell, he was literally picked up off the street, and they took him someplace and did whatever they did to him.”
“And then he was framed for the Dolores Henderson robbery, and well out of the picture.”
“Right,” Della said.
“Okay,” Gaines said. “We have work to do. We have things to follow up on. The question I have for you is whether or not there’s any way you can stay away from the house.”
“Not a hope, Sheriff. I am there for my father. I have to be.”
“He doesn’t have nurses?”
“Sure he does, but a nurse is not a daughter. Besides, I am under house arrest, pretty much. I am there because Matthias says I have to be there. Matthias wants to know I am not off somewhere with people he disapproves of.”
Gaines didn’t speak for a time. He tried to maintain Della’s gaze, to make her feel as if he were the only person in the room.
“I need to ask you, Della, and I need you to answer me as honestly as you can. From what you know of your brother, do you believe that he is capable of what happened to Nancy Denton? Do you think that he could have strangled her, and that twenty years later he had Michael Webster killed to prevent him from talking about what happened that night? And do you think he was the one who shot Leon Devereaux because Devereaux could implicate him in Webster’s death and what was done to Clifton?”
Della Wade did not look away. She neither glanced at anyone else, nor averted her eyes, nor showed the slightest flicker of emotion. She simply nodded once and said, “I do not want to believe these things, Sheriff Gaines, but I think he is more than capable of all of them.”
“And does Matthias know that you spoke to Eugene about this?”
“No, I don’t see how he could. He was away this afternoon, and I called Eugene from outside the house.”
“And you honestly feel that you have no choice but to go back to the house?”
“I have no choice, Sheriff. None at all.”
“Where does Matthias think you are now?”
“He doesn’t know that I’m out. He hasn’t returned yet, or he hadn’t when I left.”
Gaines glanced at his watch. It was close to six o’clock.
“You have any idea of when he will return?”
She shook her head. “He could be back now; he could be away until tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Gaines replied. Considering all options, he did not see any way to avoid sending her back to the house.
“How did you get here?”
“Took a cab.”
“And you’ll take a cab back?”
“No other way. Anyone gives me a ride and he sees me being dropped off, there will be the third degree. Matthias knows when I am lying,” she added, and smiled ruefully. “I have tried it, and I can’t get away with it. I am not one of life’s natural liars.”
“Okay, so go back now,” Gaines said. He turned to Maryanne. “Can you call Della a cab?”
“Of course,” Maryanne said.
“Do not talk to him about anything but regular things,” Gaines went on. “Only if you feel he is aware that you are speaking to us, only if you feel your life is in danger, do you do something. You get ahold of me, of Maryanne, of Hagen, Ross, anyone, and let us know you are in trouble, and we will be there. I am hoping that such a situation won’t arise.”
“And you? What are you going to do?”
“We are going to do whatever it takes to get Matthias in a room where we can ask him enough questions to trip him up. If we can wear him down, if we can find anything incriminating at all, then we have a prayer.”
“The gun,” Della asked. “The gun that was used to kill Leon Devereaux. Was it there at the scene? Did whoever killed him leave it behind?”
Gaines looked at Hagen.
“Gradney never mentioned it,” he said. “He didn’t give me any details.”
“Why d’you want to know?” Gaines asked.
“I know a little about guns,” Della replied. “Enough to know what’s a revolver, what’s not. If there was no gun there and Matthias did kill him, then maybe the gun he used is in the house. I know where he keeps his guns.”
“Call Gradney,” Gaines told Hagen.
Maryanne got up to show Hagen where the phone was. Hagen was no more than a minute or two. He returned to the kitchen and said, “They don’t have ballistics confirmation, but Gradney says that from the look of it, it wasn’t a big caliber. He says maybe a .22 or a .25. Not a .38. Said there wasn’t enough frontal damage for a .38.”
“I’ll look,” Della said. “I know the difference between a .38 and a smaller-caliber gun. If I find something, I’ll contact Maryanne.”
“You have to take care, Della. Seriously, we’ve had three deaths here in the last week and a half—granted one of them was a suicide—but this is all tied together. I do not need another killing in Whytesburg.”
Della Wade got up from her chair and straightened her coat. “I have no intention of dying just yet, Sheriff Gaines. I have a man up at Parchman expecting to come back and find me very much alive.” Gaines rose also, took Della’s hand, held it for just a moment. “What you are doing is very much appreciated,” he said. “I want you to know that.”
