by Milk;Honey
The woman shuffled away. Pappy Darcy looked at Decker, then at Hollander. “She blamed herself for what happened.”
“Want to tell me about it?” Decker asked.
“I guess I should.”
“You were there when the murders took place?”
“Sort of.”
Decker Mirandized Pappy before they went any further. But the old man still wanted to talk. Decker urged him to continue.
“The man they’d picked out,” Pappy said. “Rolland Mason. Linda didn’t want no kid by him, didn’t want to sleep with him no more. It was the day we were supposed to leave for the beekeepers’ convention in Fall Springs. Sue Beth had already left the house, matter of fact.”
Decker nodded, told him to go on.
“Granny was out doing some last-minute chores for Earl. Me, I was packing clothes in the house. Well, Linda musta told what was going on to Rolland and Carly. ’Cause I heard Carly crying, cursing Luke, saying he was selling his wife and her out. Rolland was real angry at being used and said he was gonna tell Luke a thing or two. I met Luke when he pulled up in his truck, told him what I thought. Don’t go into the house. Wait till they cooled off.” Pappy shook his head. “He wouldn’t listen. Said he was waiting for this moment. There was something not right in his eyes, misters. Something scary.”
The old man crushed out his cigarette and lit another.
“I got fed up,” Pappy Darcy said. “Damn fool of a kid not gonna listen to me, I ain’t gonna stick around and hear all the dirt. Luke went inside the kitchen, I left the house, went to tend the supers.”
“Then what happened?” Hollander asked.
“I don’t rightly know,” Pappy Darcy said. “Next thing I remembered were the pop of gunshots. I came rushing to the house. But…” Tears were running down the old man’s cheeks. “It was all over by then.”
There was a long stretch of silence. Pappy Darcy dried his eyes and said, “My wife musta come home while I was out. She said she had to do it to protect Earl. As best as I worked it out, it seems that Linda had shot Luke ’cause Luke…this is Earl’s words…was gonna take Katie away ’cause Linda was a whore. Then Rolland Mason started yelling at Linda for shooting Luke. Then Earl got scared and killed him. Granny…she saw all the shootin’, said Linda was plum nuts by then, started screaming at Granny, waving the gun at her.”
“What gun?” Hollander asked.
“Linda was holding a pistol, had her finger round the trigger. Lord knows where she got the gun. I never owned no pistol.”
“Where’s the gun now, Mr. Darcy?” Decker asked.
Pappy answered. “I threw it and my shotgun in the sea near Oceanside down South.”
“So Linda was waving a pistol at your wife,” Hollander said. “Then what went on?”
“Granny said that Linda’d gone lunatic, screaming at everyone, including Earl for shootin’ Rolland. Called him all sorts of names. Earl started to cry, but that made Linda ever madder. My wife…she got real scared, ’cause Linda was saying some crazy things.”
“What kind of crazy things?” Decker asked.
“That she was gonna shoot everyone, then herself.” Pappy Darcy held back tears. “Earl didn’t know nothing, didn’t know what he was doin’. He thought Rolland hurt his brother, was gonna hurt Linda, too. So he thought he was saving her. And with my wife…you can see Granny used the shotgun in self-defense. Linda’d lost her head.”
“What about Carly?” Decker said.
“Oh Lord forgive us all!” Pappy Darcy began to cry. “Granny D said it was an accident.”
“You believe her?” Decker said.
“Yes, dear Jesus, I do.”
Decker waited a beat, then said quietly, “But wasn’t your wife angry at Carly for carrying on like she did?”
“It was an accident—”
“But your wife didn’t like Carla’s wild ways,” Decker pressed on. “And then Carla started demanding her share of the land—”
“It was an accident!” Pappy Darcy insisted. “Granny shot Linda in self-defense, and Carly accidentally got in the way!”
Decker said, “Must have been hard for Granny, a good Christian woman, to see Carla acting so bad….”
“It was an accident!” Pappy cried out. “Sweet Jesus, haven’t you ever had an accident in your life?”
Pappy Darcy’s cheeks were flushed, his hands were shaking. Decker backed off. He more than anyone knew what an accident felt like.
He waited a moment, then asked, “What happened with Luke? How’d his legs get blown off?”
“That…” Pappy Darcy’s knees buckled. He sank into a chair. “I did that. Luke was dead anyway. I figured maybe I could make it look like…spare Earl and my wife…I don’t know what I was thinkin’. I wasn’t right in my head by that time, neither.”
Hollander said, “You shot Luke?”
“After he was dead,” Pappy Darcy whispered.
Decker asked, “Then what happened, Mr. Darcy?”
“The rest of us…we all left together. I took all the wallets…mebbe the police would think it was a robbery gone bad. Granny grabbed Katie out of her crib—”
“Katie’s pajamas had blood all over them,” Decker said. “How’d it get there?”
Pappy looked down and mumbled, “She followed my wife into the kitchen while Granny was makin’ her bottle. Slipped on the floor. I took her out of there fast, I remember that. I didn’t even realize that her nightie had blood on it until we was in the car. But Granny…she forgot to pack Katie some clothes, so we was stuck.”
Didn’t even bother to wash it off, Decker thought. Just wiped it off with a Kleenex. As if Granny hadn’t cared anymore.
“Then what happened?” Hollander asked.
“We left.” Pappy stopped to think. “But it was Katie. Halfway through our trip up, I remembered Katie. If Sue Beth saw Katie in bloody PJs with us, she’d know that something was wrong with Linda. So I left Granny, Earl, and Katie at a motel ’bout twenty miles away from Fall Springs. I told my wife to put Katie to bed early, then come with Earl and make like nothing happened. Like we decided to take Earl with us after all.”
“That’s when Sue Beth saw you all for dinner,” Decker said.
“Yes, sir.”
“You left a little kid alone in a motel?” Hollander said.
“She was sleeping,” Pappy Darcy answered. “I told Granny to go back to Katie after she was done with dinner. And she did. Then, the next morning, she told me she fixed Katie up. That we didn’t have to worry ’bout her no more. I asked Granny what she did, and she told me she left Katie with her father—her real father. I asked her what she meant, but she didn’t say no further. Then, later on, after the police found Katie, I asked Granny what did she do with her. But my wife, she was completely gone by then.”
Completely gone by then? The woman had been a certifiable lunatic for years. Pimping her daughter-in-law, murdering her, then killing her own daughter—accidentally or otherwise. Decker tried to reconstruct Granny Darcy’s twisted logic. The old woman must have driven back to L.A., dropped Katie off in the Manfred development in the middle of the night. She probably left her in front of the Binghams’ house—she knew who Katie’s father was because she’d chosen him. Maybe the kid had been sleeping when she had left her alone. One thing Decker knew for certain was that sometime during the night, Katie had wandered away.
“Whose idea was it for Earl to confess?” Decker asked.
“Mine,” Pappy Darcy admitted. “I didn’t think the law would do no harm to the boy since he’s not a full-thinkin’ person…. I didn’t see no other way. Sue Beth started askin’ me if Granny and Earl was with me when I came up. I said, of course they was, but I knowed she didn’t believe me. Then she told me the police were askin’ her the same question. I got scared.”
“So you had a long talk with Earl,” Hollander said.
“Convinced him he was the murderer of his family,” Decker said.
“I di
dn’t mean it like that,” Pappy Darcy pleaded. “At first, I just told him what to say. Told him to make pretend. But…but as I talked, I could see the boy thinkin’ that he’d done all the shootin’. I…I just let him go on thinkin’ it. I told him to tell Sue Beth what he told me…what he thought he told me. Then, natcherly, Sue Beth told me what Earl told her.” Pappy Darcy bit his lip and held back tears. “I said, better take him to the po-lice afore they find out and come git him…Sue Beth, she don’t know nothing ’bout this.”
Decker nodded.
“Then they put Earl in jail.” Pappy Darcy’s lower lip began to tremble. “I didn’t think they’d do that. I just couldn’t take none of this no more. I told Sue Beth to go to Manfred, sell the damn land. I wasn’t gonna run, no sir. But if’n we ever get out of this mess, I didn’t want this farm anymore. Once it was the Promised Land for me, God’s land of milk and honey. Not no more, misters. Not no more.”
Pappy Darcy wept openly. Hollander stood, placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder, then looked at Decker. Granny Darcy came out again, stared at her sobbing husband. Decker assured her he was fine, but the old woman couldn’t take her eyes off of her mate. A minute passed before anyone spoke. Eventually, Pappy Darcy noticed his wife, beckoned her to him, and hugged her. She buried her face in his shirt.
“She ain’t evil,” Pappy Darcy said. “She’s just not right in the head anymore.”
“My trust is in my husband and the Lord Jesus,” she said, looking up. “You can’t do nothin’ to us.”
“Be polite, woman,” Pappy Darcy scolded her quietly. Granny Darcy lowered her head and stared at her feet. The old man looked at Hollander and asked, “You gonna arrest her?”
Hollander nodded. Pappy Darcy turned his attention to Decker.
“You gonna arrest me, too?”
“Yes,” Decker answered.
“And Earl?”
“It’s best if you all come down to the station,” Decker said. “Try and clear up the situation.”
“What’s gonna happen to us, Mister Policeman?” Pappy Darcy asked.
Decker didn’t rightly know, and he told Pappy Darcy just that.
Byron Howard was tending his supers, pouring raw honey into a big ceramic vat. The sunlight bounced off the streams of molten gold, scattered onto the fields. A steady hum of apiarian activity punctuated the summer air. Byron worked slowly, taking his time. Dressed in veil and gloves, the beekeeper didn’t pay attention to the approaching steps, didn’t bother turning around until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He pivoted, looked up, and locked eyes with Decker, waiting for the policeman to speak.
“It’s all over for the Darcys,” Decker said. “Want to know what happened?”
“None of my business,” Byron said.
“You’re sure about that?” Decker said.
Byron didn’t answer.
“You know I had coffee with Annette last week,” Decker said. “She told me you owned a twenty-gauge shotgun. A Browning, I think she said.”
Decker could see the beekeeper tense. But he remained silent.
“Mind if I take a look at it?” Decker asked.
Byron didn’t speak for a long time. Eventually, he said, “Go ahead. Darlene knows where I keep it.”
“Thanks,” Decker said. “Just one more thing. Annette told me you don’t like handguns, that handguns were for shooting people and not animals.”
Byron didn’t answer.
“That true?” Decker asked.
“Yes.”
“Yet your wife used to talk about pistol-whipping Linda—”
“Darlene had nothing to do with them murders!” Byron blurted out. Then he turned red-faced.
“Oh, I don’t think for a moment she did,” Decker said. “But it just got me thinking. That’s a strange expression for a lady to use if she doesn’t have a pistol. Now, nothing is registered to any Howards, but maybe, just maybe, you have an unregistered handgun around your place….”
“Get off my property!” Byron screamed out.
“No, Byron, I don’t want to,” Decker said. “Now why don’t you and I go into your house and take a look around?”
Byron didn’t budge, but his hands dropped to his sides, his gaze sweeping over his feet.
“Byron?” Decker said.
“I kin give you my Browning,” Byron hesitated, then said, “But I ain’t got no pistol.”
“Where is it?” Decker asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Would Darlene know where it was?” Decker asked.
“Darlene?” Byron jerked his head up. “I told you she don’t know nothing about it.”
“About what?”
Byron shook his head.
“What did you do with the gun, Byron?”
Suddenly, the old, leathery face crumpled. His lower lip began to tremble, his eyes dammed back pools of water.
“What’d you do with it?” Decker repeated.
“I gave it to Linda,” Byron choked out. “She came to me about two weeks ago. Said…said that she was breaking it off with Luke.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I was happy…Lord forgive me, but I was happy. Then…” Tears streamed down his face. “Then she asked if she could borrow Darlene’s gun. I asked what she needed a gun for, and she told me she was afraid of Luke. I offered to come down with her when she told him it was over, but she said no…. Mule-headed woman, she said no.”
“So you gave her the gun,” Decker said.
“I didn’t think nothing would happen.”
“She asked you for the gun,” Decker said. “You didn’t think she might shoot Luke with it?”
“I didn’t think she meant nothin’ bad.” His voice sounded like the bleat of a lamb.
“You didn’t care!” Decker yelled. “All you wanted was Luke out of the way so you could have Linda.”
“I loved her,” Byron wailed out. Then he buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
“Right,” Decker whispered to himself. What was the point of telling him that Linda had wanted only his sperm? That Linda probably went to him for the gun because she knew that if the gun were ever traced back to the Howards, old lovesick Byron would have gone to jail before condemning his former lover. People using other people. Decker tried to muster up some indignation, but his self-righteousness felt hollow and flat.
And in the background all Decker heard was the pathetic cry of Linda, Linda, Linda.
30
Horses from Griffith Park had got loose, were galloping in and out of traffic. The Golden State Freeway was closed off until they could be rounded up and trailered. All lanes were being detoured to surface streets. Horns blared as cars, trucks, and semis ground to a halt. After a half hour, the unmarked’s air-conditioning keeled over and died. Marge sneaked a sidelong glance at Decker. He seemed placid, but she still felt bad about dragging him out on his day off.
“Sorry about this,” she said.
“Not your fault,” Decker answered.
“Not a great way to spend your free time.”
“You’re right about that,” Decker said. But his voice was light.
He was in a fine mood despite traffic. His last phone conversation with Rina had been wonderful. Once again, she assured him that Abel hadn’t come between them, that she’d even forgiven Abel for what he’d done. Anybody that desperate doesn’t deserve hatred, she’d remarked sadly. She’d also felt good about her judgment. Something deep inside had told her he hadn’t any intention of hurting her. She’d been glad she’d listened to her intuition. Decker felt her resolution with Abel was gratifying, but what had been most rewarding about the conversation was the love she’d expressed for him. They were destined for each other. It was basheert—fate. She’d known that the minute she had laid eyes on him. It had just taken her time to admit it to herself.
Just thinking of her words gave him a lump in his throat. He peered out the side window at the multicolored metal ribbon in front of him. “Screw this, Margie. Ride on the s
houlder and let’s get out of here.”
She did just that until she was stopped by a Highway Patrol car. They flashed the CHP officer their gold badges and told him they’d just been patched to an emergency call. The chippy was a young buck, anxious to do a good job. With a very serious look on his face, he escorted them to the next available off-ramp.
After they’d exited, they both laughed.
“One of the few perks of this job, eh?” Marge said. “You know where we are? I always get lost around this area.”
“We’re not too far from the academy,” Decker said. “Just go straight here, the road parallels the park. Do me a favor, Marge. As long as we had to exit, hang a right onto Los Feliz—I have some business in Hollywood I should take care of. You mind a half-hour delay?”
“Firing range ain’t going nowhere,” Marge said.
“Thanks,” Decker said. But Marge’s face looked tense. Decker told himself that she’d get over it, she was just a little anxious about getting back on the job. Had to prove herself. He hadn’t realized how insecure she was until she had suggested a trip to the range. She’d tried to sound casual, but her voice had been saturated with uncertainty. Decker agreed to tag along.
Marge rode through the park’s mountainous turns, past shaded picnic grounds and the old-fashioned pony ride—through acres of greenery until the winding lane merged into Los Feliz Boulevard. She drove westward, past rows of well-kept residential buildings. Behind, the hillside was stacked with split-level homes. As she crossed Vermont, the apartments yielded to stately mansions occupying acre lots on grassy knolls. On her left were gated communities where old Hollywood wealth used to reside. But now the area, resting in a smog-soaked basin of L.A., had lost some of its luster, fighting the aging process like an old-time movie queen.
“Where to, Jiggs?” Marge asked.
“Follow Los Feliz until it becomes Western,” Decker said.
“What time’s the Darcy arraignment?” Marge asked.
“Lou Nixon said some time in the late afternoon.”
“We won’t make it back on time,” Marge said.
