by Donis Casey
Gee Dub was surprised to hear that. “Have you, now? You’ve known me since I was knee high.”
Meriwether pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and spread them out in front of himself. “You’ve done a few things over the past year and a half that your family doesn’t know about. Your sister Phoebe found something she didn’t expect while she was packing up a change of clothes for you. Seems the U.S. Army has a high opinion of you. So much so that they gave you some hardware before they let you go.” Meriwether paused in case Gee Dub had a comment about this, but none was forthcoming so he went on. “The one that interested me the most was the Purple Heart.”
Gee Dub’s mouth quirked. “You don’t have to do anything to get one of those. Just sit still and let a mortar fall on you.”
“I contacted the Army Records Office. Apparently you had a pretty bad knock on the head. Says here you were out cold for two days.”
“So they tell me.”
“Woke up in the field hospital and got sent back to the front a week later. Attached to a British unit. That seems like a mighty quick turn-around time for somebody who just had his head cracked. Tell me, have you had any lasting effects from the incident?”
Gee Dub could see where this was going. He sat back in the chair and studied his lawyer from under his eyelashes. “Mr. Meriwether, do you have a point?”
For a few seconds, Meriwether absently tapped his pen on the tabletop, considering. “Gee Dub, I am well aware that men who have lived through war, or worse, suffered grievous injuries, can be permanently changed by the experience. I am acquainted with a woman whose husband was gassed over in France, and this fine young man will never be the same. He can hardly remember his own name for two minutes at a time.”
“So your defense is going to be that I’m not of sound mind?”
Meriwether smiled. “Obviously, no one who talked to you for ten minutes would believe that. But the lingering effects of trauma could very possibly allow a man to do things he would never have done before the injury.”
“Mr. Meriwether, you ever been to war?”
“No, but…”
“Well, then, let me enlighten you. Soldiers get maimed and hurt and killed, sure. But at least soldiers can defend themselves. They give you a gun and send you into harm’s way with a bunch of other guys with guns all around you. But it’s the innocent who suffer the most. Women and little kids and old folks who don’t want to hurt anybody. Their men get taken away from them, and then they get robbed and bombed and shot and brutalized and they’re helpless…” He swallowed his words, suddenly aware that he was rambling. He took a breath and returned to the topic at hand.
“The doctor in charge of the field hospital thought I was in good enough shape to return to duty after a week, and I managed to do everything they asked of me after that. I don’t think this is a productive line of inquiry.”
“It’s my job to pursue every line of inquiry, son. I want to make sure I leave no possible stone unturned.”
“Well, leave off this particular stone, Mr. Meriwether. I don’t want to end up in the insane asylum any more than I want to go to prison.”
Meriwether studied his client’s face for a long moment. Gee Dub had no intention of discussing the matter right now, but neither did Meriwether intend to forget about it. “Whatever you say. We’ll talk more about a defense when and if you are indicted.”
***
The Newcastle boys had been losing soldiers to a German sharpshooter at a mighty clip. That was why Anderson had requested a sharpshooter of his own. Or at least somebody who could shoot straight. Not one of those English boys could hit the side of a barn with a handful of beans. Fritz—that’s what they called the German who had been taking them out—spent his days waiting for somebody to poke an eye over the lip of the trench. The English boys were scared shitless. They acted like Fritz had a special power. Gee Dub shook his head at the memory. Anderson had to whip on them with that crop he carried around just to get them to do anything that required standing up straight.
Fritz wasn’t such a much, though. Gee Dub tested him out as soon as he got there by sticking a hat on the end of a bayonet. Fritz was watching them. He knew that a lorry had dropped somebody off up the road. He probably figured that he had a bunch of green replacements to do target practice on. He fired twice at the hat. Rapid—bang, bang. The first bullet came from about thirty degrees to Gee Dub’s left and took a chunk out of the brim. The second was a clean miss. Gee Dub had his number after that. He hauled the nearest Tommy out of his hole in the mud and set him up with the hat and the bayonet a couple of yards down the ditch. The young Englishman was shaking so hard that Gee Dub was afraid Fritz wouldn’t be able to get a bead on the target, but the movement did make it look like the hat was on a head. Fritz fired and the Tommy dropped the bayonet in a panic, but that split second was all Gee Dub needed. Fritz didn’t have his pointy hat on, but in the one blink it took Gee Dub to aim, he could see that the German had gray in his brown hair and that his eyes were blue. Gee Dub got him clean. After that, he could have told those English boys that the sun rises in the west and they would have done their best to believe him.
“Tucker?”
Gee Dub started and looked at the guard standing beside him. Meriwether had gone.
“Time to go back to your cell,” the guard said.
Chapter Twenty-four
Pearl Evans Johnson had been in hell for the past two weeks. The first time her feckless husband Dan Johnson died, that had been a shock, it was true. But she had moved on most satisfactorily. In fact, she had found someone to marry who was way better than Dan. She had married Dan Johnson in a haze, not more than a month before he was called up and left for basic training. He had been charming and his parents were well-respected, and the fact that he might be going to his doom was so romantic. The wedding night was a revelation to her, and their newlywed bliss was quite enough to carry her through to his departure. But he was gone for such a long time, and she was young and pretty and the boys hovered around like bees. She was good, though, and stayed faithful to her soldier for as long as any human person could reasonably expect.
Until her father’s assistant, Leon Stryker, declared his affection. Loving Leon was torment, for what could she do about it? No woman in her right mind would voluntarily get a divorce, especially not from a soldier who was overseas fighting for his country. Then the war ended, and Dan’s letters ended, and the next thing she knew he had killed a man in a fight, gone AWOL, and died of the flu by the side of the road outside of Boynton.
Then one day out of the blue some lawman from Boynton had come to Pearl’s little bungalow and told her that Dan was probably still alive. In which case her much-anticipated wedding to her beloved, kind, so handsome Leon Stryker could not be. She was devastated. Until a couple of days later she found out that her resurrected husband got himself shot through the heart and her problem was solved.
She felt bad that his latest and final death made her so happy, but not so bad that she didn’t immediately reinstate her wedding plans. Dan’s parents had been good to her, especially his father, so after Dan’s second demise she was careful to maintain the proper deportment for a young war widow. In fact, she rather enjoyed the sympathy she was receiving and didn’t see any difficulty about milking it while she could. Besides, come the fall, after all the folderol had died down, she’d get to be a bride again.
After they returned from the cemetery, she had sat for hours in the middle of her mother-in-law’s parlor and received mourners with the gracious good manners expected of a lady. Dan’s mother and father were on the settee next to her armchair, broken with grief. Pearl’s own mother had stepped in to act as hostess. Her father did his duty as greeter. Pearl appreciated the fact that he was there at all. He had only come to the funeral because Pearl had begged him. Bertram Evans had had a low opinion of Dan when he was alive, and that
opinion had not improved now that Dan was dead.
Leon kept a respectable distance from Pearl throughout the day, but his presence gave her the strength to get through this ordeal. He had made sure that he was always in her line of sight, ready to exchange a loving glance when no one was watching. The crowd began to thin out at the same time as the buffet table, and Pearl was considering whether or not she had finally done her duty well enough to go home and have some time alone with Leon. No new guests had shown up for a while, and the two or three who were still there were standing at the sideboard, polishing off the last of the spread.
Pearl was tucking her handkerchief into her sleeve and preparing to depart when the two women and the distinguished man came in.
Pearl leaned toward her mother-in-law and murmured, “Mother Johnson, those people yonder were at the funeral. Do you know who they are?”
Mrs. Johnson rallied herself enough to look up, but she didn’t get the chance to reply before the women came over to pay their respects.
***
The Tuckers had already formulated a plan of action. As soon as they entered the Johnson house, each made a beeline for her or his object of inquiry. Charles headed for Bertram Evans, his business associate and the widow’s father, who was standing next to the wall beside Leon Stryker. Lavinia’s assignment was to see what she could learn from the widow.
Alafair had claimed the parents of the deceased for herself. She knew she was taking advantage of their grief and distraction, but she didn’t care. Honesty would not bring Dan Johnson back from the dead, nor would consideration for their feelings save Gee Dub from a murder charge.
Mrs. Johnson’s sunken eyes were bleary with tears and her expression was vague, but Fern Johnson, Dan’s father, gave Alafair a curious once-over as she knelt down on the floor in front of the settee. She took the mother’s hand in both of her own. “Miz Johnson, my name is Miz Shaw Tucker. I’m sister-in-law to Charles and Lavinia Tucker. That’s them yonder. Lavinia and me are founders of the Society for Mothers of Veterans, Okmulgee Chapter. Both of us are the mothers of wounded soldiers. It is our solemn privilege to offer whatever support we can to the families of war casualties. We know your boy was a veteran, and we want to let you know that if there is anything we can do for you, you only need to ask.”
Alafair was not sure that Mrs. Johnson was paying attention, or even aware of her surroundings, until she said, “I saw y’all at the funeral. You were at the cemetery, too.”
So much for discreet observation, Alafair thought. “Yes, ma’am. We try to attend the funerals of as many veterans as we can and show support to the families.”
Fern Johnson’s eyes widened. “Tucker of Tucker Lumber Company? Is that y’all? Did you know Dan?”
“Yes, sir, my brother-in-law Charles owns the Tucker Lumber Company. No, I’m sorry to say that I never knew your late son. But I know he served his country. Was he in Europe?”
“Yes, he was in England,” Mrs. Johnson said. “But he did not die in the war, you know.”
Mr. Johnson put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Mother…”
“That doesn’t matter, ma’am,” Alafair assured her. “He was still a veteran. How did he meet his end at such a young age?”
Mrs. Johnson’s expression sharpened and she appeared to see Alafair for the first time. “Why, someone killed him. You didn’t know that? That is all anyone in town has been able to talk about since it happened.”
Fern Johnson flopped back in his seat with a sigh. It was futile to try and manage a mother’s emotions on this day of her child’s funeral.
Alafair dropped the woman’s hand, feigning shock. She spoke quickly before Mr. Johnson could try again to restore his wife’s sense of discretion. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. Okmulgee is a big town and I had not heard the particulars. What happened?”
“A robbery? I don’t know. Someone shot him dead in his own garage.”
Alafair swallowed. “Do they know who did it?”
“The police told us that they’d keep us informed, but we haven’t heard anything.”
They would soon. Still, Alafair was relieved that the Johnsons had not heard Gee Dub’s name yet. If they had already been told that a Tucker had been arrested on suspicion of killing their son, there would be no chance they’d tell her anything.
Alafair was beginning to feel impatient. She wanted an answer to her real question. Why was it that Dan’s parents hadn’t cared what happened to their son the first time he died, but were prostrate with grief over his second death?
Perhaps her desperate desire to know had caused the question to manifest in the ether, because Mrs. Johnson said, “Our poor Dan had been given a second chance. He was turning his life around.”
Mr. Johnson paled and leaned forward to put himself between Alafair and his wife. Alafair drew back, startled. Mrs. Johnson seemed equally surprised by her husband’s move, especially when he put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her back into her seat. “Thank you for coming, Miz Tucker,” he said. “It’s good to know that there are some folks in town who care about our soldier boys.”
***
“I’ll tell you, Bertram Evans was not in the least broke up about his son-in-law’s death,” Charles said. Alafair and her in-laws had driven directly back to Charles and Lavinia’s house from the reception, and were exchanging information around the mahogany table in the dining room with coffee and cookies. “He was eager to tell me and anybody else who’d listen that Dan was a fugitive who stole another man’s life. He wasn’t a bit shy with his opinion that Dan was a ne’er-do-well and his daughter Pearl was well shet of him. And you were right about the young fellow being the widow’s beau, Alafair. His name is Leon Stryker. He’s the accountant and financial officer for Evans’ business, and I suppose you could say he’s Evans’ apprentice, too. The two of them look to be thick as thieves.”
“If that’s the case, I reckon Mr. Evans is not unhappy that his daughter is finally free to marry Leon,” Alafair said.
Lavinia nodded. “And wouldn’t Leon be overjoyed to become part of his boss’ family? So Leon must have been dismayed when he learned that his betrothed’s first husband was not dead after all.”
Charles lifted his shoulders. “Evans told me that Pearl is his only child, so if Leon was to marry her he would eventually inherit the construction company. To be fair, though, Leon does seem to be besotted with Pearl, so it’s probably a love match, as well as a handy business arrangement.”
He paused long enough to reach for another cookie. “I made so bold as to ask Evans how they took it when they first heard that Dan might be alive. Leon acted like he was most concerned about Pearl’s feelings. He said that Dan’s resurrection would have delayed their wedding in a big way. But Pearl had plenty of grounds for divorce and he was willing to wait until she was free. Evans couldn’t even stand to hear Dan Johnson’s name. His face got so red that I feared his head was going to blow off. He really hated the son-of-a-gun. If some yahoo had treated my daughter that way, I would hate him, too.”
“I didn’t get anything useful out of the widow,” Lavinia admitted. “I couldn’t figure out a way to bring up the circumstances of her late husband’s second death. It didn’t seem right to say, ‘congratulations on your narrow escape.’ I did commiserate with her on her loss, and she smiled that little cat smile of hers and said that she had reconciled herself to what had happened.”
“I think the parents knew Dan was still alive,” Alafair said. “I think they were in contact with him, too. Maybe the whole time he was in Council Hill.”
Lavinia straightened in her chair, surprised. “Goodness. Alafair, what makes you say that?”
“The mother told me that Dan had been given a second chance and was turning his life around. How would she know that if she had just found out where he had been? Besides, when she said that, the father like to knocked her off the
settee in order to shut her up.”
Lavinia clapped a hand to her chest. “If they knew Dan was alive all along, that would explain why they weren’t interested in claiming poor Harvey Stump’s body.”
“Wouldn’t it, though?”
“Let’s think about this, then.” Charles uncapped his fancy Parker fountain pen and began making a list on the back of an envelope. “Who had a reason to want Dan Johnson to stay dead? Pearl had the best motive, but she seems an unlikely killer. Gently brought-up young women don’t usually go around shooting people in the heart from a foot away.”
Lavinia tapped the table with her index finger. “Gently brought-up young ladies can pull a trigger as well as anybody, Charles. But I vote for Leon as the probable murderer. If Pearl came crying to him that Dan was alive and a bigamist, to boot, he could have been overcome with chivalrous intent. He could easily have ridden that blaze-faced horse of his to Council Hill that very evening and avenged his beloved’s honor.”
“Pearl’s daddy had just as much reason to worry about the family honor as Leon did,” Charles noted.
Alafair sighed. “I hate to do it, but you ought to put Holly on that suspect list, too, Charles. Nobody was more wronged by that wastrel than Holly. She traveled halfway across America to find him, just to discover that he had played her for a fool and taken everything from her, even her good name. I wouldn’t blame her a bit if it was her who shot him.”
The three of them fell silent for a moment. Neither Charles nor Lavinia had the heart to point out to Alafair that they had left one very possible suspect off the list.
Charles laid his pen on the table. “We know the date that Scott came down here and told the Johnsons that the body Clelland Rogers found in December is not their son. If Alafair is right, and his parents already knew that Dan was alive and living in Council Hill, why didn’t they rush over there that very day and tell him that he was about to be found out? Why would he hang around after that and wait to be discovered?”
