Too Black for Heaven

by Keene, Day

  Her cheeks were even more feverish than they had been before she’d gone to sleep. Her clothes were cutting into her flesh. She crossed the cell to the basin and tried to fill it with cold water. There was no stopper in the basin. When she released the spring handle the water stopped running.

  The girl across the corridor was amused. “You never ben in jail befo’, have you, honey?”

  “No,” Dona admitted, “I haven’t.”

  The girl explained, “You have to hol’ the faucet with one hand an’ splash with the other. They fix it that way on purpose so drunks won’t run water all over the floor.”

  Dona held the faucet with one hand and splashed water with the other. The water had a strong sulphur smell that sickened her. There was no towel in the cell. She dried her face as best she could with toilet paper and sat back on the bed.

  The cell had a tendency to revolve. She had difficulty taking her compact from her purse. Her eyes were unnaturally bright. There were deep blue circles under them. Her rumpled hair looked lifeless. The splashed water had completed the ruin to her tear-streaked make-up. She started to repair the damages and gave it up as hopeless. Then she lay down, hid her face and cried.

  Feet clomped down the corridor. The door of the cell on the opposite side opened. A male voice said, “Okay. Let’s go, Annie.”

  “How’s the jedge look this mawnin’?”

  The deputy laughed. “Like his breakfast is settin’ well.”

  “Good,” the girl said. “Good. Then mebbe I git off with ten days.”

  When they had gone the corridor seemed too quiet. Dona continued to cry. The girl might get off with a sentence of ten days but her own situation was much more desperate. Sheriff Early had warned her.

  She heard the cell door open and tried to sit up, but her slight body was too convulsed with sobs. Jack Ames sat on the bunk bed beside her. “Dona. Sugar. Please don’t.”

  Dona felt strong hands lift her, then sat wiping at her eyes with the handkerchief Jack Ames gave her. “I thought you’d never come.”

  Ames’ voice was as gentle as his hands. “I bin here since daybreak a-pesterin’ the night deputy. But he said you hadn’t gotten to sleep until after the rain, so we decided it was best not to disturb you.”

  Dona squeezed his hand. “I like you, Jack.”

  “I like you,” he said, soberly. He glanced at his watch, then nodded to the bellboy from the hotel who was standing in the corridor holding a napkin-covered tray. “But that can wait for now. The inquest is set for nine o’clock an’ I’ve cut it pretty fine lettin’ you sleep as long as I have.” He took the tray from the boy and held it in his lap. “Now you stop bein’ frightened an’ git some breakfast in you while I talk.”

  “But I can’t help being frightened.”

  “I know. But you’ve no call to be. Now, if you cain’t eat, at least git some coffee in you an’ mebbe a piece of toast. I don’t want you faintin’ away on me in front of the jury.”

  Dona drank some coffee and tried to eat some toast. The toast crunched when she bit into it and felt like broken glass in her mouth.

  “Dunk it in your coffee,” Ames said. He felt her forehead. “From the looks of your eyes an’ the way you feel I’d say you have a fever. But that’s goin’ to have to wait, too. Trust me. Believe me. One way or another, I’m gittin’ you out of here this mornin’.”

  Dona dutifully dunked a piece of dry toast in her coffee but even sodden toast wouldn’t slide past the lump in her throat.

  Ames talked as she tried to eat. “As your lawyer, they let me read Sterlin’s statement an’ I hope he rots in hell for signin’ such a pack o’ lies. The jury may believe it, they may not. Jurors, even coroner’s jurors do strange things. But I can prove him a liar on two important counts. He says he was intimate with you just before you shot him, just before you were brought here to the jail. But Doctor Nelson’s examination proves different. More, Sterlin’ in his statement claims he saw you with the gun in your hand and the paraffin test proves conclusively that he’s lyin’ on that score, too. If you’d fired a gun any time within the last twenty-four hours, the paraffin that the identification officer pulled away from your hands would be specked with powder an’ there’s no sign of any.” Ames snapped his fingers. “So that for his statement. What I’m concerned with is an’ what the coroner’s jury is goin’ to ponder is why, out of all the hundreds of small towns in the South you chose to come to Blairville.”

  “I can’t tell you, Jack,” Dona said.

  “Not even if it means the difference between you going free and bein’ held for the Fall term of court?”

  “No matter what it means.”

  Ames touched her cheek. “The hell of it is, I think I know, sugar. An’ if what I think is so, you wouldn’t have to walk across the hall to go free. But if you can’t tell me, you can’t. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Ames set the tray on the floor and Dona noticed for the first time he’d brought a small suitcase with him.

  “What’s in that?”

  Ames said, “Some cold cream an’ some towels and some clothes. I drove out to the cottage an’ talked some fresh things out of one of Early’s deputies.” He got up and stood in the cell doorway with his back to the basin and bunk. “Now peel down an’ take a wash-off bath. An’ don’t be shamed at the thought someone might pass down the hall. I’ll see to it they don’t.”

  Embarrassed, Dona did as she was told, then dressed hastily and sat back on the thin mattress and worked on her face and hair. Her finger tips still felt numb. It was a real effort to comb her hair. She put too much rouge on her cheeks. Her lipstick slipped and she had to apply it over.

  Ames studied her from the cell door. “You look better, a whole lot better. Now remember, I want you to walk into that inquest with your chin held high, like you didn’t have a care in the world.”

  “I’ll try,” Dona said meekly.

  Ames called to someone in the office. “Okay, Harry. Let’s go. The sheriff said he’d meet us at the inquest.”

  A deputy strolled down the corridor. “It’s gittin’ on to time. Whenever you say, Counselor.” He touched the brim of his hat to Dona. “Mawnin’, Miss Santos.”

  “Good morning,” Dona said. She let Jack help her to her feet. “Where is the inquest to be held? Upstairs in one of the courtrooms?”

  Ames shook his head. “No. God knows why, but it’s one of our archaic customs to hold the inquest at the mortuary with the coroner’s jury composed of the first six free-holders to pass the mortuary after the inquest is convened. An’ they got Sterlin’ laid out over at Adler’s.”

  Dona remembered the fan she’d seen Judge Harris using with a picture of the Christus on one side and ADLER’S FUNERAL HOME printed on the other.

  The deputy said, “Right where Blair’s belonged for some time.” He led the way down a short corridor and unlocked a back door that opened into the parking lot.

  Ames guided Dona down the stairs and around a puddle of water. “Sam was tellin’ me you boys picked up Beau.”

  “That’s right,” the deputy answered, as he opened the door of a mud-spattered county patrol car. “They have him over at Adler’s now. But I misdoubt he killed Sterlin’. Fo’ one thing, he’s got an alibi of sorts. He claims he spent most of the night on his knees, prayin’ fo’ self-control. An’ Father Miller backs him. Least he says he found Beau in front of the altar when he got ready to say mornin’ mass. Fo’ another, feelin’ like he did about Sterlin’, Beau would never’ve used a gun. An’ effen he did he wouldn’t have run away an’ lef’ the blame fall on a girl. Beau’s too much of a man to do a thing like that. I know. I soldiered with him. An’ that big black son-of-a-bitch, excusin’ I use the word, Miss Santos, he ain’t afraid of nothin’.”

  Dona considered the statement. The deputy wasn’t being derogatory. There was undisguised admiration in his voice. His use of the profane expression was a term of affection. He might have been calling Beau a bull-head
ed Swede or a fighting Irishman.

  “How ‘bout the Elfers girl?” Ames asked.

  The deputy shrugged. “We got her, too. But she claims Sterlin’ gave her the night off an’ she spent it with her family. Pretty little thing. Seems to feel quite bad ‘bout Sterlin’. Claims he was good to her.”

  Ames’ smile was wry. “Good has quite a few connotations.”

  Dona sat very still and small between the two big men, as the police car circled the square. Hattie had been jealous of her. Hattie could have taken the gun.

  The funeral home was on a tree-shaded side street. It was a big, white-painted, square house that had originally been a mansion. The lawn was green and well-kept. One wing had been turned into a chapel. The matching wing formed a porte cochere over a wide cement drive. There were half a dozen cars in the drive. Ames helped Dona out of the car and up the stairs. A whispering little man met them in the parlor.

  “Right this way, Counselor,” he said. “The others are already gathered in the chapel.”

  The chapel was small with stained-glass windows that diffused the light. Dona saw a few people she knew. Belle Morgan squeezed Dona’s hand as she passed her.

  “I warned you, honey,” she whispered. “I only wish now I’d advised you to move back to the hotel.”

  Ames led Dona to a table in the cleared space in the front of the chapel and held a chair for her. A tall man who was not familiar to Dona was talking to Doctor Nelson. She asked Ames who he was.

  “Coroner Tennent,” he told her.

  A flash bulb popped and Dona looked up, startled, to see the cameraman from the Courier. Kelly was standing beside him. He nodded pleasantly. “Good morning, Miss Santos.”

  “Good morning,” Dona said and looked past him at the front pew in which Beau and Hattie and Blair Sterling’s white-haired butler were sitting.

  Beau formed a V with his fingers. The butler stared at the floor. Hattie met her eyes and glowered.

  Dona resisted an impulse to put her head down on the table and cry. She had the same sensation she’d felt in her cell, as though everything around her was revolving.

  One by one, the impaneled jurors trickled in and were shown to the six straight chairs standing in an isolated group.

  One was a woman in a house dress, slightly resentful, carrying a shopping bag filled with groceries; one was an old man wearing a hearing aid; the next two were a young couple looking like newly-weds; another was a prosperous business or professional man; the sixth was a worker in faded blue overalls and shirt, whose jaws moved constantly. After a few words with the deputy who was escorting him to his place, a spittoon was set beside him.

  Ames returned to the table and sat next to Dona.

  “How are you feelin’, sugar?”

  “I’m scared,” Dona admitted.

  Ames said, “Don’t be. Even the coroner’s on your side. We think we know who did it.” He added dryly, “If not why Sterlin’ lied.”

  The inquest got under way slowly, picking up speed as it went. The butler identified the sheet-covered body on the table that one of the deputies rolled in as Mr. Blair Sterling. One of the two deputies first to arrive at the cottage followed the butler on the stand. Then, as from a long distance away, Dona heard the coroner say, “Now, if you’ll be so kind, Miss Santos.”

  Dona manged to get to her feet and sit in the chair he indicated. As she sat down, Hattie stood up and cried, “That’s the one who did. That’s the girl who killed Mister Sterlin’!”

  The cameraman took another picture of Dona. Kelly made a few notes on a pad. Dona answered questions mechanically, constantly fighting the darkness that threatened to engulf her. Yes, her name was Dona Santos. Her mother was Estrella Santos. She’d come south for a vacation. Her choice of Blair Sterling’s cottage on Loon Lake had been entirely coincidental. Yes, Sterling had made advances to her but she had repulsed him.

  Then the coroner read Sterling’s statement and Dona could see that the six jurors were impressed. The woman with the shopping bag glowered at her. The old man turned up his hearing aid. The girl member of the young couple looked embarrassed. The business man looked thoughtful. The jaws of the tobacco-chewing man worked furiously and he spat into the receptacle beside him.

  His voice was emotionless, as the coroner read on:

  “‘The following night I went to her cottage again. She seemed pleased to see me, at least pleased by the prospect of gainfully prostituting her body. But it didn’t turn out at all as the other evenings had.’” Tennent came to the part of the statement that had been read to Dona by Yarnell. “‘After being intimate with her in her cottage, with her active consent and cooperation, instead of accepting the fee of fifty dollars as agreed, the girl who calls herself Dona Santos demanded that I give her five hundred dollars or she would go to the sheriff’s office and claim I raped her.’”

  Dona said hotly, “Mr. Sterling’s statement isn’t true.”

  Hattie stood up again. Her voice was shrill. Her ear bobs jingled as she spoke. “Doan let her lie to you, Mister Coroner. Look at the paint and powder she wearin’. Smell the way she smell. Anyone with one eye kin see she’s nothin’ but a li’l ol’ white whore-girl.”

  Dona felt her cheeks redden.

  The deputy who’d driven Dona to the funeral home forced Hattie back into the pew. “Set down an’ be quiet. You’ll git a chance to testify.”

  Hattie preened herself. “When I do, I give it to her good.”

  Coroner Tennent resumed reading from Sterling’s statement. “‘Naturally I refused. On my refusal she became very angry and walked out to her car. I dressed and followed her trying to persuade her from making a fool of herself. We stood arguing beside her car for some time. Then I lost my temper and told her to do whatever she damned pleased and started back to the cottage. As I did, I heard three pistol or revolver shots and felt a sharp pain in my back. I turned and saw her holding a revolver she’d taken from her bag.’” Coroner Tennent paused and looked over the statement at Dona. “What have you to say to that, Miss Santos?”

  In Dona’s fevered eyes, the figures in the chapel were rapidly becoming grotesque, unreal creatures. Coroner Tennent was ten feet tall. She was so unutterably weary it was an effort to sit upright in her chair. She said, “I say it’s a lie. The whole thing is a lie.”

  Hattie got back to her feet. “She’s the one who’s lyin’. She put a hex on Mister Sterlin’. He doan be hisse’f since the first afternoon he meet her.” Her voice was fierce. “He go down to her cottage that first night. When he come back he tell me he doan do nothin’ to her. She say the same thing by sweet-talkin’ me the next mo’nin’. But I know better. An’ he go again the next night. I know. When I rid up the cottage that mawnin’ I fin’ money under her baid. An’ las’ night he right back at her again. An’ he doan git enough inside the cottage, so he follow her outside an’ back her up against her car. She puttin’ him off to excite him but he hug an’ kiss her. Then he — ”

  Coroner Tennent said, sharply, “And just how do you know all this, Hattie? According to the statement you made to Sheriff Early, you didn’t go anywhere near the cottage last night. You said you were at your folks’ house.”

  Hattie stood poised to run, like some young animal. Then she smoothed the cloth over her breasts and said with simply dignity, “All right, let her free. I done it. The blame belongs to me. I bin Mister Sterlin’s gal since I come woman-size.” She added proudly, “When we were alone he let me call him Blair.” She cried silently, as she touched her ears. “He even give me these. They’s bin other girls, lots of ‘em. But Miss Santos, she different somehow. I know once he take up with her he never come back to me.” Her chin tilted. “So I snuck her gun from under her pillow an’ I shot him. An’ now he’s daid an’ I doan care what you do with me.”

  A deep silence filled the chapel. Two deputies left their places against the wall. Dona’s feeling of unreality deepened. As if she were looking through the wrong end of a telescope
she imagined she saw Estrella and Bernie. The minute figures grew and became real as Estrella, followed by Bernie, walked down the aisle.

  Estrella’s throaty voice was familiar. “Baby,” she said. “What have you done? What are they doing to you?”

  Dona heard herself say, “Mother.” Then, calmly, “Why did you come here? How did you know where I was?”

  Estrella held her fiercely. “I was worried about you when I left. Then when you didn’t answer the phone and Charles said no one had seen you since I’d left, I flew back from Los Angeles.” She smiled sadly. “I arrived the day Charles got his ring in the mail with the postmark Blairville on the envelope. It didn’t mean anything to him. It did to me.” Estrella drew off her gloves and laid them on the table. “You see, I went through this once and I knew what you probably had in mind. When Bernie told me you’d bought a gun I was certain.”

  Estrella looked at Sheriff Early. “Whatever she’s done, blame me. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told her.”

  “Told her what?”

  Estrella answered him. “That we both have a faint streak of the tar brush, mine a shade wider than hers. You don’t remember me, do you, Sheriff Early?”

  “I know you’re Estrella Santos.”

  Dona tried to stop Estrella and couldn’t. The chapel was tilting so badly she had to cling to the arms of her chair. Her frenzied, “No!” stuck in a sore spot in her throat.

  “Born Beth Wilbur,” Estrella said. “And you should remember me. Unless it’s been outlawed by the statute of limitations, you have a warrant in your files, a warrant charging me with assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill. I gave Blair Sterling his scar. With good reason. I did my best to kill him. Blair Sterling is Dona’s father.”

  “Of course,” Early said. “I recognize you now. You always was a pretty girl.”

  Dona’s voice trembled. “Where’s Charles?”