by Donis Casey
Scott nodded. “How long was the woman here before her friend came in?”
“Not long. Fifteen minutes, maybe?”
Scott allowed himself to feel a little bit relieved. He glanced at Alafair. She was about to chew off her bottom lip. He started to ask Joan if she was sure, but Joan volunteered some observations of her own.
“Harvey Stump used to eat here every once in a while,” she said. “He seemed like a nice enough fellow. I knew his folks, you know. They just moved into town not six months before they both died of the grippe. They were lovely people. They told me that Champlin struck oil on their little farm south of here and they were able to buy a nice house here in town that didn’t require much upkeep.”
“So they had money.” Scott made the observation aloud. “I don’t suppose they ever told you where they did their banking, did they, Miz McNamara?”
Joan’s eyes widened. “Well, no, neither of them ever mentioned. Mr. Stump did say they were right happy that they were never going to be a burden to their boy, and they were going to be able to leave him well off when their time came. I’m sure he had no idea how soon his time would come. I was real sorry that Harvey never got home from Europe in time to see them before they passed. His daddy was real proud of his soldier boy. And now Harvey got shot. It’s just a tragedy.”
Alafair couldn’t contain herself. She gripped Scott’s arm and whispered an urgent question into his ear. Scott would have been annoyed if it hadn’t been such a good question. He turned to Joan. “Did Harvey ever come in here with an older woman, maybe looked like his grandma?”
“No. I never saw Harvey with anybody. I heard that he didn’t have any family left after his mama and daddy died. So sad. I wish I had made more of an effort to be neighborly. But you can imagine, this eatery keeps me pretty busy. I never did even know where Harvey lived.”
“Over on Oak Street,” Scott told her.
“Oak Street?” Joan blinked. “Now, you said Harvey got killed the same day that young couple were here?”
“Yes, later that night, we think.”
“There was somebody else stopped by here that evening, another stranger. I remember because we don’t usually get that many strangers in one day. He asked if I knew where Oak Street was.”
Alafair forgot all about her vow of silence. “It was a man? Was he riding a quarter horse with a blaze?”
Joan looked at her, surprised to hear her speak at last. “Yes, a man. But I didn’t see that he was riding anything.”
Scott put a hand on Alafair’s arm before he said, “Can you describe him, Miz McNamara?”
“Dressed real nice, like a man of substance, that’s what I noticed right away. He had on a black suit and a black homburg. I asked him if he wanted a table but he said he was looking for Oak Street. He never said anything about Harvey Stump, though. Maybe it was just a coincidence.”
“A young man?”
“Well, no, not so young. Not all that old, either. Maybe forty-five?”
Alafair was squirming like her chair was on fire. Scott was doing his best to ignore her. “And this fellow never said his name to you, Miz McNamara?”
“Never did. He looked to be an upstanding citizen, though, so I never thought twice about giving him directions.”
***
“Scott, it’s Pearl Johnson’s daddy, I know it is!” The accusation burst from Alafair like a shot fired the minute she and Scott stepped out of the cafe and onto the street.
“Now, Alafair, you don’t know that. You don’t know that the man had anything to do with Dan Johnson at all. He might have just been a salesman looking for some business. None of Johnson’s neighbors that I talked to ever said anything about seeing a well-dressed man at the house.”
“It was late in the evening when Granny Murray heard the shot, though, so maybe none of the neighbors were outside to see anybody. Are you going to go to Okmulgee now and question Mr. Evans?”
“I’m going to talk to Dan Johnson’s neighbors again, Alafair, and you are going to go home.”
“You already talked to the neighbors, you and that Marshal Gundry.”
“I know that you’re champing at the bit to prove Gee Dub innocent, but this is not the way to go about it. I’ll follow up on what Miz McNamara said, but right now…”
She spoke over him. “There’s no time to waste going over old ground. If you don’t aim to go to Okmulgee right now and talk to Bertram Evans, I will.”
Scott bit his words off in surprise. “No, you will not.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “How are you going to stop me?”
“I could arrest you for interfering with an investigation.”
That seemed to amuse her. “You’re not going to clap me in jail. Besides, you said yourself that you’ve got no authority here.”
“Isn’t Shaw expecting you home?”
“I’ll send him a wire.”
Scott’s face was getting very red. “I ought to haul you back up to Boynton by the scruff of your neck and hand you over to Shaw. Let him deal with you.”
“Shaw would agree with me.”
Scott had to stop himself from saying a bad word. She was right. Even if he managed to wrestle Alafair back to Boynton and remand her to her husband’s custody, his cousin Shaw Tucker probably would be on her side. The two had always functioned more as a unit than as individuals, and it was their son who was in peril, after all. It was more likely that the moment his back was turned, Shaw and Alafair would race to Okmulgee and confront Bertram Evans together. Then Scott would have to deal with both of them, and Shaw would not be nearly as easy to manhandle as Alafair.
Scott was sputtering, but he had not come up with a rejoinder. Alafair sensed victory. “So we can go to Okmulgee right now? I’ll board my horse in yon livery stable and ride with you in your automobile. It shouldn’t take us but two or three hours to get there. I promise won’t say a word while you’re talking to Mr. Evans.”
Scott sighed. “Alafair, you are the most exasperating human person on this green Earth.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Scott and Alafair had not spoken much to one another on the way to Okmulgee. Scott was still annoyed and Alafair knew better than to say anything that might make him reconsider their agreement. They arrived in Okmulgee late in the afternoon, so Scott thought it was wiser to look for Mr. Evans at his office on the second floor of the First National Bank Building. Alafair followed him up the stairs, but stood just outside the open door to Evans’ office, in the hall, trying to remain invisible and at the same time hear everything that was said. She would have found a way to barge her way in if Scott had managed to get an interview with Evans. But as it turned out, Mr. Evans had gone home early. Scott had to show the secretary his round tin badge in order to pry Evans’ address out of him. The constable’s badge from the town of Boynton didn’t mean anything in Okmulgee. It hardly meant anything five feet outside of the Boynton town limits. But it seemed to do the trick.
Scott parked his Paige at the edge of the shady street and he and Alafair walked up the long graveled drive leading to a two-story native stone manse with white columns running along the front of the deep, wraparound porch. Bertram Evans’ construction business was apparently doing very well.
Alafair had made the twenty-five-mile trip in an open conveyance over the unpaved road between Council Hill and Okmulgee twice in one day. She was feeling gritty and rattled and expected that she did not present an impressive figure, with windblown tendrils of dark hair falling into her face and her second-best hat with the cherries on the band slipping askew on her head no matter how many times she readjusted her hatpin.
Still, she would have insisted on coming along to question Evans even if she had just crawled through a twenty-five-mile mudhole on her belly.
Scott gave her a once-over before knocking on the door. The
determined expression on her dusty face both amused him and made him want to shake her by the shoulders. He did think that this entire escapade was going to make a great story to tell his wife, Hattie. “You remember your promise, now, Alafair,” he warned. “You can come along and listen, but I’m asking the questions.”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze was boring a hole in the side of the house. “I remember,” she said, just as a servant in a white apron opened the door.
***
Alafair could not remember ever having been in such a magnificent house. The servant left them standing in a grand foyer with an even grander staircase that ascended and wound around to form a mezzanine on the second floor. A marble table in the middle of the foyer seemed to have no function other than to hold a huge arrangement of purple irises and white hyacinth. The fragrance was overwhelming.
The maid reappeared in the entryway to the left and said, “Come this way, please.” She led them down a window-lined hall to a tall set of double doors, which she opened with great ceremony before standing aside.
Bertram Evans was seated behind a mahogany desk to their left. He stood to greet them when they entered. Two women were ensconced in wing chairs in front of a marble fireplace at the end of the room. The younger woman leaned forward in her chair and gave Alafair an ironic grin.
“Well, look who’s here, Daddy,” said Pearl Johnson.
Scott would have much preferred to speak to Mr. Evans on his own, but Mrs. Evans and Pearl stayed where they were and Evans did not try to shift them. Scott didn’t fault the man. He couldn’t get Alafair to leave, either.
Following introductions, Evans escorted his guests to a long couch in front of the fireplace, all the easier for his wife and daughter to hear from their armchairs. Evans himself sat down on an ottoman at his wife’s feet. One might be forgiven for thinking Evans had put himself at a disadvantage by taking such a humble seat, but Scott saw the move for what it was. This was a man who felt no need to resort to posturing in order to demonstrate his superiority.
Pearl had already told her parents about Alafair’s visit early that morning, so there was no need to cover old ground. It took several minutes for Scott to relate all the new information he and Alafair had uncovered. The Evans family listened quietly, and to Scott’s relief, Alafair said nothing, either.
After the story of the trip to Council Hill was finished, Scott paused, waiting to hear if Evans had anything to say before Scott began posing questions.
Evans turned on his footstool to look at his wife.
“He thinks you are the man in the black suit, Bertram,” Mrs. Evans said to her husband. Her tone was unemotional. “He’s wondering if you killed Dan.”
“So I gather.” He turned back toward Scott. “It was not I who shot Dan, Mr. Tucker. I hated the bas…the rat. I was glad to hear that he died and that my daughter was free of him.” He cast a glance at Pearl. She did not look upset. She was familiar with her father’s opinion of Dan Johnson. Evans continued.“I did not even know he was alive until after he really did die. If I had known, I might have thought about taking the easy road and getting rid of him for Pearl’s sake. But I would not have done it because I would not want to complicate things for Pearl or for my wife, either. No, I didn’t kill him. In fact, the man in the black suit could not have been me because on the twenty-fourth day of last month through the twenty-eighth, my wife and I were in Oklahoma City. I had business to conduct in the city, and we took the opportunity to visit with my wife’s sister while we were there. We stayed with my sister-in-law while we were in town. I will be glad to give you a list of a dozen people who will be able to vouch for our whereabouts during that entire week.”
Alafair shifted in her seat, but kept her peace.
“When did you hear that Dan had been killed, Mr. Evans?” Scott said.
“Not until we returned home late on the twenty-eighth.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Pearl. “Miz Johnson, you didn’t send your mother and father a wire with the news when you found out your late husband had not actually been dead all that time?”
“No, I didn’t. What would have been the point? I knew it would upset them, and like it says in the Bible, ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ Besides, I not only had to deal with Leon, I was worried about what the news would do to Dan’s mother. I half-expected her to drop dead on the spot.”
“Were y’all aware that Johnson’s mother knew he was living in Council Hill all along?” Scott directed the question to the room.
“I don’t believe it,” Pearl said.
Evans was not quite so taken aback. “Is that so? What makes you think that?”
Alafair felt fairly confident that Scott was not going to throw her out of the room, so she said, “Miz Johnson was seen by the neighbors. Several times.” She didn’t mention that at this point there was no firm proof that the elderly woman the neighbor saw was indeed Dan’s mother.
Mrs. Evans didn’t require proof. “Well, I’m not surprised,” she said. “Poor Lucy would walk over coals for that boy, not that he deserved her loyalty. But a mother will do anything to protect her children. Won’t she, Miz Tucker?”
Scott did not give Alafair time to respond. He stood up, and so did everyone else. “Mr. Evans, ladies, I want to thank you for taking the time to talk to us. I will report what you told me to the defendant’s lawyer and I’m sure he will be in touch.”
“We’ll be available,” Evans said.
Mrs. Evans picked up a little bell from the side table and rang it. “Minnie will show you out.” She extended a hand to Alafair. “Good luck.”
Chapter Thirty
Alafair nearly trod on Scott’s heels as he strode down the long drive to the street where he had parked his Paige. “Who could the man in the black suit be if it isn’t Evans and it isn’t Leon? What can we do now?”
Scott did not slow down. “Meriwether will want to check up on Evans’ story. Until he can do that, I reckon I’d better drop in on Chief Bowman and bring him up to speed. Evans may not have gone to Council Hill himself, but he could have hired him an assassin. Bowman might want to keep an eye on the Evanses, here, make sure they don’t skip town.”
“Before you do, can’t we go see Dan’s parents one more time?”
“Why? Surely you don’t think Dan’s mother will say anything that would help exonerate the man she thinks killed her son.”
“Does she think that, Scott? Does she really think Gee Dub killed Dan? You heard what Miz Evans said. Us mothers understand one another. If Miz Johnson was to see what I’m trying to do, she might be more willing talk to us. To tell us what she knows of Dan’s life in Council Hill, tell us who else may have known he was there. Besides, from the look of her I don’t think she’s going to last much longer. What if she goes to her reward before we find out if she knows something that could help Gee Dub?”
They were halfway down the Evanses’ driveway when Scott stopped walking and turned around so abruptly that Alafair nearly ran into him. “That poor woman has had a bitter cup to drink, Alafair, and I don’t relish adding more poison to it. Let her die in peace.”
“What harm can it do her now to tell the truth? It will be a blessing to help her unburden her soul.” Alafair was reaching, and she knew it. Scott drew a breath to tell her so, but she didn’t give him the chance. “Scott, it’s for Gee Dub. Any little piece of information may be the key. What if it was one of your boys who was in Gee Dub’s spot? What if it was Spike?”
That made Scott pause. His youngest boy, Spike, was only twenty years old and determined to cause his parents heartache and worry. Still smarting because, even though he joined up as soon as he was old enough, he was never sent overseas, and he was unreasonably angry at his mother and father for being relieved.
Alafair was driving Scott around the bend with her unwavering tenacity and her re
fusal to see reason, and worse, her absolute certainty that she was right. He didn’t know why he was letting it bother him. She had always been this way, as long as he had known her, at least. More than once in the past he had taken advantage of the fact that people were willing to tell Alafair things that they would never think of telling him. A slight, brown, middle-aged mother of ten may have seemed like a threat to no one, but that was a dangerous misconception. To protect her children, Alafair was all teeth and claws.
“All right, gol-durn it. We can go by the Johnson house for a minute. But she don’t have to talk to either of us if she don’t want to,” Scott warned.
***
The day was well along and the shadows deep by the time Alafair and Scott reached the Johnson house.
Alafair stood back while Scott knocked. Fern Johnson answered. “Not you again,” he said, but he didn’t slam the door in their faces, which Scott took as a good sign.
Still, he wasn’t going to take any chances. He said, “Mr. Johnson, I’m sorry to bedevil you, but a man’s life is on the line. When I wired you that your son had died of the flu outside of Boynton, did y’all already know the dead man was not Dan? Did y’all know that Dan was alive? That he had stolen Harvey Stump’s life and was living in Council Hill?”
Mr. Johnson’s eyebrows flew toward his hairline. “What? No. What kind of a question is that?”
Scott gestured toward Alafair, preparing to introduce her, but Mr. Johnson turned away when his wife’s thin voice called from the parlor, “Fern, let him in.”
Johnson disappeared, leaving Scott and Alafair on the porch. They could hear the low murmur of voices inside the house. Johnson sounded distressed. Mrs. Johnson sounded resigned. Alafair was watching the screen door like it was a snake poised to strike. Scott was watching Alafair. One by one, people were falling off of her list of alternative suspects and her worry was written on her face. Scott wondered himself what he would to do next if none of their new leads paid off. Talk to Chief Bowman at the Okmulgee Police Department, as he had told Alafair. Go back to Council Hill and make the rounds of Dan Johnson’s neighbors yet again. But his first job would be to get Alafair out of his hair. His compassion for her situation was real, but her fierce determination to prove Gee Dub innocent was beginning to affect him. She would not entertain the thought that her son might actually be guilty. Scott could not afford to abandon his objectivity.
