by Donis Casey
Alafair didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She realized to her dismay that there was nothing she could say that would make any difference.
Encouraged that the explosion she expected hadn’t materialized, Alice continued. “Walter loved his wife when he married her. He told me so. He tried his best to make her happy but she wasn’t having it. She broke his heart. She got what she deserved.”
“Nobody deserves what she got,” Alafair said.
“Well, not murder, maybe,” Alice amended. “But she had everything, and she sold herself cheap.”
Alafair shook her head. “Honey, she may have done bad, but howsoever stupid she was about it, she set about to make herself feel better about something. It’s human nature. She’s at the mercy of the Lord. There’s no help for her now on this side of Heaven, but we can give her our pity, and, if we can, justice.”
Alice said nothing, but her expression conveyed a less forgiving assessment of Louise’s situation than Alafair had given.
“You know about the Crocker girl?” Alafair asked. Phoebe began bouncing Grace on her knee with reckless abandon.
“Yes,” Alice said without hesitation. “He told me about that right up front. She made eyes at him and he was weak. He knows it. She knew he was married. He didn’t lead her on. If his wife hadn’t driven him away, it never would have happened.”
Alafair puffed out a noncommittal noise. “Alice, I believe you when you tell me that you have feelings for this man. You’re grown up now and can cast your affections where you will. But you’ve only heard Mr. Kelley’s side of this story—which may be the true one, I’m not saying it ain’t. However, there’s something about this whole thing that don’t smell right. Now, you know that I would do just about anything to keep you from getting hurt, don’t you? Don’t you?”
“Yes,” Alice answered cautiously.
“Good. Because I’m going to ask you not to see Mr. Kelley for a little while—a month or so—at least until we really know what happened with his wife.”
“Ma, if you really don’t want me to be hurt, then don’t keep me from Walter.”
“If Walter Kelley is the man you say he is, then you’ll have the rest of your life to be with him, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Alice assured her.
“Then let it be proved. Besides, if he really cares for you, a short separation won’t make any difference in his feelings. And if it does, then you’ll be glad you found out now.”
Alice looked over at Phoebe, who had given up all pretense of entertaining the squirming Grace and was watching the proceedings avidly. “What do you have to say about this?” Alice asked her twin.
“Nothing,” Phoebe assured her.
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” Alice challenged.
Phoebe put Grace on the floor and watched the baby pull up on her hands and knees while she considered her answer. “I’ll tell you, Alice,” she answered at length, “I think you ought to do as Mama says, at least for a while.”
Alice made a sound of protest, and Phoebe looked up at her, her hazel eyes resolute. “If it weren’t for Ma, I wouldn’t have John Lee now,” she said. “It was her helped clear his name after his daddy got shot. He’d have been hanged by now, otherwise. And nobody’s saying that Walter killed his wife himself. I think you ought to give Ma a chance to lift that cloud off of Walter, and then y’all can be together without anybody even looking sidelong at you.”
Alice pondered this while gazing at her mother critically. “All right, Ma,” she said. “I really don’t care if people do look sidelong at us, but if it’ll make you and Daddy feel better, I’ll give you a month and not see Walter all that time.”
Alafair hadn’t even realized she had been holding her breath, but a great sigh escaped her when Alice agreed. She made a resolution to bake Phoebe one of her favorite chess pies tonight. “Thank you, sugar,” she said to Alice. “One month, then. Will you promise me?”
“I promise. The only thing is that Walter will get hurt feelings if I just disappear without saying anything to him.”
“Daddy and I will talk to him,” Alafair assured her.
“Good. And when you do, be sure and tell him that this isn’t my idea.”
***
When Phoebe went home, Alice went with her. Grace sat in her highchair with a rattle and watched Alafair mop the kitchen floor, highly entertained. But Alafair had things on her mind. It was hard to describe how relieved she was that Alice had agreed to stop seeing the barber for a month. She had to get cracking, now, if she wanted to convince her daughter that she could do better than Walter Kelley.
Had he killed his wife? It didn’t seem possible. Had he paid someone to do it for him? There was no proof that he had. Had he made his wife so unhappy by his continuous dalliances that she lost all respect for herself and got herself into a dangerous situation? Of course, Alafair wanted to be fair if she could. Perhaps Louise Kelley was just an unforgiving and spiteful woman, and her demise was not her husband’s fault in any way.
Even that scenario didn’t give Alafair much pleasure.
As she mopped, her mind kept returning to her odd meeting with Ned Tolland that morning. He was sorry that Louise had died. He had put redbud flowers on her grave—the grave that he visited regularly, he said. She had only seen Ned and his wife together the one time that she could remember, at Louise’s funeral, and as far as she could determine at the time, they seemed close enough. Ned had been comforting Nellie, and she had been clinging to him.
If Louise had nearly broken up her sister’s marriage, apparently all had been forgiven.
Alafair pondered and mopped, remembering the strange smell of ammonia that had seemed to come out of nowhere. At first, she had unfairly blamed the dog…
The dog. She straightened, visualizing the dog snuffling around Ned’s feet. She put her mop back into the bucket and leaned it against the wall, then picked Grace up out of her highchair and carried her into the bedroom. She placed the baby in the crib, then reached into the bottom of her chiffarobe and withdrew a package wrapped in butcher paper. She sat down in her rocker, unwrapped the bundle in her lap, and sat for a moment staring at the pair of weather-beaten and animal-chewed shoes that the family had found by the road last summer.
Charlie had let the hounds sniff the shoes. Shaw’s raccoon hounds were renowned trackers, but would Crook have remembered the scent after nearly a year? Surely one event couldn’t have anything to do with the other. Those hounds smelled everything they came in contact with. A memory floated up into her head of Easter dinner, and Buttercup snuffing around Walter Kelley’s feet while he was sitting under the elms with the girls. She began rocking, and tried to think over the din of Grace banging her rattle against the side of the crib.
She was thinking, so what? Perhaps the shoes did belong to Ned Tolland, or even to Walter Kelley. That didn’t mean they had anything to do with the murder of Louise Kelley. Did it? She wondered if she should discuss her musings with Shaw, or even with Scott. She imagined herself telling Scott that Crook had been interested in Ned’s feet, and maybe that had some connection with a pair of lost shoes the dog had smelled almost a year before. She could just visualize Scott’s face.
Alafair’s cheeks reddened, and she stopped rocking. She re-wrapped the shoes and put them back in the bottom drawer of her chest. No, not yet. If there was any connection, it was too tenuous to mention. She wouldn’t forget, though. You never knew.
She picked Grace up. “Come on, cookie, we’ve still got work to do.”
Chapter Nine
Walter Kelley made his way home from the restaurant on Main Street with his hands in his pockets, whistling a happy tune. The last light of day lingered on the horizon. The blustery weather had abated when the sun went down, and it was a beautiful, cool evening. Walter figured he would sit on the front porch for a little while before he went to bed and maybe visit with any of his neighbors who might decide to do the same.
He turned off the sidewalk and
put his hand on his front gate, but paused when he saw two people standing on his porch, waiting for him. He recognized the couple immediately, and an unaccustomed feeling of wariness overcame him. He put a smile on his face and pushed open the gate. “Well, hello there, Mr. and Miz Tucker,” he said, as he mounted the steps. “This is a nice surprise. What brings y’all into town this evening?”
Shaw shook the man’s hand. “We’re sorry to spring ourselves on you all unannounced,” he said, “but Miz Tucker and me would like to talk to you for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
“Well, sure,” Walter responded. “Come on in.” He pushed open the front door and stood aside to allow his guests to precede him. It was dark inside, so he switched on a table lamp and seated himself in an armchair across from where the Tuckers had made themselves comfortable on the settee.
Alafair took in the room thoroughly while trying not to be too conspicuous about it. The white clapboard house was neat and well appointed. The front door led into a small, nicely furnished parlor with a settee, two chairs, a tea table and three or four side tables. Two electric lamps with cut glass shades cast a cheerful light over the room. A long, maple wood sideboard with eight drawers and fancy scroll work along the bottom sat against the back wall. The wooden floor was highly polished, with a colorful handmade rag rug that stretched along the floor in front of the settee, under the tea table.
“I have some tea in the ice box,” Walter told them. “I was planning on fixing myself a glass of ice tea. Can I offer you some?”
“That would be right nice, yes,” Alafair answered for both of them.
Walter leaped up and disappeared through the French doors that led to the sitting room and the kitchen in the back. For a moment, they listened to the crack of an ice pick chunking pieces of ice off of the big block in the ice box.
“Nice house,” Shaw observed to Alafair. “Do you know who keeps it for him?”
“The neighbor girl, Susan Grant,” she said, nodding toward the north, where the Grants’ house abutted the Kelley property. “I talked to her and her mama some while ago. I got the feeling that Miz Grant would be pleased to have Walter for a son-in-law. She’s not the only one, either. There’s any number of single women in town would be happy to keep his house for him.”
“He is well-off,” Shaw admitted. “And at least he keeps things nice around him.” He shook his head ruefully. “I swear, Alafair. If it wasn’t for all the talk about the wife’s death, I’d be pleased that Alice fancies Kelley. He could sure take care of her, and I always liked him. I’d be happy, though, if one of our girls went for a man who wasn’t wrapped up in a murder investigation.”
“You and me, both,” Alafair agreed.
Walter came back into the room with three glasses of iced tea and a plate of sugar cookies on a tray, which he placed gingerly on the table before them. “I hope y’all will help yourselves to some cookies. My neighbor lady’s daughter brought me a whole box full of ’em that she made herself just yesterday.”
They all partook of tea and cookies, with appropriate words of appreciation, for several minutes, until enough time had passed to satisfy propriety.
“I expect you know why Miz Tucker and myself have come to see you,” Shaw opened.
Walter lowered his tea glass to the table. “Yes, sir,” he admitted. “I’m guessing it has to do with Alice.”
“You guess right,” Shaw said. “I must say, Walter, my wife and I are surprised that you think it’s all right to be seeing Alice socially without approaching us first.”
Walter shifted uncomfortably, but Alafair noted that he looked Shaw in the eye before he answered. “I don’t blame you folks for being concerned. I’d more than likely feel the same way. But I promise you that my intentions are entirely honorable. It’s just that, well, I have to say that I didn’t realize myself what was happening between me and Alice until just recently. What with all this business about Louise getting killed while I was in Kansas City, and Alice being so young and all, I didn’t expect to be feeling the way I do about her. It just sort of snuck up on me.”
“What do you think is going to come of this friendship?” Alafair asked.
“I have to admit,” Walter said, after a pause, “that after things settle down a mite, and with your permission, that I’d like to marry Alice, by and by.”
There was a long moment of silence while all present considered the implications of this statement. Alafair glanced at Shaw, who was studying Walter speculatively. He didn’t seem to be blindsided by the prospect of Alice marrying, not like he had been about Phoebe. He had a calculating look on his face, as though he was totaling up Kelley’s strengths and weaknesses as a prospective son-in-law. Alafair looked back toward Walter, who was sitting up in his chair, patiently awaiting their verdict. He didn’t appear nervous, not like a young swain would. He was a grown man, and well aware of what he had to offer a bride.
Shaw turned his head and gazed at Alafair for a moment, his hazel eyes quite green in the electric lamplight. He gauged the look on his wife’s face, then smoothed down his black mustache with the back of his index finger. He turned back to Walter.
“Walter, my wife and I think that things are moving along too quickly for our liking. Alice is young, and for all her sass, she’s very innocent about these things. Now, you know how the world works, even if she don’t. It looks bad, what happened to your wife, like maybe you drove her to her bad behavior…”
Walter started to protest, but Shaw held up his hand to cut him off.
“I’m being plain,” Shaw said, “because this is our daughter we’re talking about, here, and I want you to understand the situation aright. Alice likes you, and I think you could provide a good life for her. But her mother and I would feel much better if a few things were cleared up before we give our blessing to this match. That’s why we asked Alice to promise not to see you or talk to you for the next month. We’re thinking that in a month’s time we can learn more about your situation, and also, it’ll give you and Alice time to breathe and think about if this is what you really want. A young girl’s affections are sometimes lightly given. If she still feels the same way after a month, well, then, we’ll see.”
Walter chewed his bottom lip, then nodded. “I understand. And I’ll do as you wish. I admire your care for Alice. I think, though, that my feelings won’t change in a month, because I’ve never known a girl as full of life as Alice. Every time I’m around her I feel like the world is a mighty fine place because she’s in it. And I promise you I’d never do anything to hurt her, and if she were to marry me, I’d make sure she never would regret it.”
Alafair wondered why she didn’t feel better at Walter’s attestation, but all she could think was that fine words were easy to say. She noticed that Shaw’s mobile eyebrows had disappeared under the shock of black hair that had fallen onto his forehead.
“Well, that’s fine,” Shaw said, echoing the very word Alafair had been thinking. “I appreciate that you’re going along with this. We’ll see how things stand in a month.”
Walter smiled a beguiling smile. He is a handsome man, Alafair admitted to herself. Tall and well put together, with a square, chiseled, clean-shaven face and black eyes. His wavy dark hair was combed back and pomaded into a glossy shine, a perfect advertisement for his barbering skills.
“I hope you and the boys will still come in to have your hair cut in the next month,” he said.
“I imagine our hair will still grow,” Shaw acknowledged. “I think we’d better get on home, now. It’s getting late.”
The men rose to shake hands and Alafair leaned forward to place her dish on the tea table in front of her. As she did, a half-eaten cookie slid off of the china plate and landed on the rag rug close by her feet. She stooped down to scoop up the cookie in the handkerchief that she had pulled from her sleeve, and as she did she was immediately aware of the acrid smell of ammonia coming from the rug. It was exactly the same odor she had smelled at the cemetery, at Louis
e’s grave. She absently picked up the cookie, and bent down a little closer to the rug, sniffing delicately to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.
No, that was one smell that was unmistakable. Surreptitiously, as the men moved their conversation out onto the porch, she picked up the corner of the rug to check the underside. The nether side of the rag rug was covered with a large brown stain.
Alafair stood up quickly, unconsciously stuffing cookie, handkerchief and all into her coat pocket, and followed Shaw out of the house.
***
“Where on earth are you, Alafair?” Shaw asked her.
She looked over at him, surprised at the question, until she realized that they were half way out of town and she barely remembered climbing into the buggy. “Shaw, I think Louise Kelley was killed right in that room where we were sitting.”
Shaw blinked at her, processing this unexpected information before he replied. “What did you see?” he asked, intrigued. He knew Alafair well enough to know that she had to have some pretty strong evidence to make such a shocking allegation.
“Just as we were getting up to leave I dropped a piece of cookie on the floor, and when I reached over to pick it up, I smelled ammonia on the rug.”
“Ammonia,” Shaw repeated, not following yet.
“Ammonia. When you’ve got a bad stain on something, sometimes a solution of ammonia and water will lift it. Not always though. I picked up the corner of the rug and looked underneath. Almost the whole underside of that thing is covered with a brown stain that looks like blood.”
“Oh!” was all that Shaw said, before he pondered a minute or two. “It could have been something else besides blood, don’t you expect?” he wondered at length.
“Could have been,” Alafair agreed. “But I don’t think so.”
They were just outside of town now, but Shaw pulled on the reins and the horse came to a stop. “We’d better tell Scott about this.”
“I need to get home to the baby. Can’t you carry me on home first?”
