by P. L. Gaus
“If you told her that I wanted her in here with me, she’d come.”
“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Ricky allowed, sympathetically. “I doubt Robertson would go for it, though.”
“I need to see her,” Jenny complained.
“It’s too bad, too,” Ricky said. “Sally is ‘lawyered up’ with her brother, and I’m not sure that’s in her best interests.”
Jenny looked puzzled.
“What if Sonny killed his mother?” Ricky explained. “That puts Sally at a disadvantage, having the same lawyer.”
“Sally didn’t do anything,” Jenny said, and drew hard on her cigarette. “Could you try to get her to come in here and talk with me?”
“I’ll try.”
Jenny studied the glowing end of her cigarette intently and said, “You can’t really think Sonny could have killed her.”
“It’s a possibility that we have to consider.”
“He can be vicious. Vengeful and mean at times. Then he’s also got his unassertive side. Kinda blows hot and cold.”
“That’s what I’m pointing out to you, Jenny. Robertson will be looking hard at Sonny Favor for this murder. So, you’ve got to ask yourself—Do you want Sally tied up with the same lawyer?”
Jenny stubbed out her cigarette. “Sonny has a blind spot where his mother is concerned. Down deep, he knows she never truly believed in him. She always had him figured as a failure ahead of time.”
Ricky waited silently.
Jenny lighted another smoke and said, “Sally calls him the Eunuch. He could never stand up to their mother. And then, under the frustration of trying to please her, his moods would swing wild. I’m a psychology major, so I know all about this sort of thing. He’s got a passive/aggressive thing going, and can’t control it.”
“Are you saying he is like his mother?” Ricky probed.
“In some ways. He uses money to control people. That’s like her. Couldn’t have gotten himself into a fraternity any other way. But he has no follow-through with people. Can’t really commit.”
“He does have a girlfriend, from what I understand.”
“Maybe he does, and maybe he doesn’t,” Jenny said.
“Which means?”
“Sonny can’t handle commitments. He thinks he’s got a girlfriend, but that will change over the smallest thing. Sally says he’s got an on/off switch in his mind. There’s never any real heart involved in his relationships. His mind goes ‘click,’ and then he’s done with someone forever. Absolutely done with them. You wouldn’t ever want to be stuck in a crowded lifeboat with Sonny Favor.”
“That doesn’t sound very mature,” Ricky said.
“Sally thinks he’s damaged goods. Lost his father young, and his mother was the ice queen. He probably will never form a lasting attachment. Sad. So many men are screwed up like that. Sonny’s also screwed up because his mother was more of a man-figure than he could ever be.”
“I gather Sally didn’t like that.”
“I’m sure you know about last night,” Jenny said. “Sally never backs down from her mother. Threw that thing at her from the mantel. Almost hit her, too.”
“What thing?”
“A trophy thing. More of that useless male macho crap.”
“Why do you think Sally did that?”
“Because Sonny was going to cave in to their mother’s wishes when she threatened to block their trusts.”
“So, Sonny did have motive for murder.”
“Please. Sonny? Never his mother. Someone else, maybe, but never her. He couldn’t say no to her, and he couldn’t see who she really was. Couldn’t understand what she had done to ruin him. Kill his mother? Not a chance in the world. He’s the Eunuch.”
“Evidently Mrs. Favor didn’t castrate all her men,” Ricky said.
Jenny looked puzzled again.
“Her affair with the art professor.”
“Give me a break. Royce is a stumble-down drunk. She used him as a toy.”
After a pause, Niell remarked, “Sally’s got herself some kind of family.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Robertson won’t permit that.”
“Why do you work for a creep like him?”
“Who, Robertson? He’s not so bad.”
“He’s a throw-back. A twentieth-century dolt.”
“His girlfriend doesn’t think so.”
“You’re kidding.”
“What?”
“He’s got a girlfriend?”
“A very beautiful one. They’ll probably get married.”
“What in the world would a woman see in him?”
“What do you see in Sally?”
“She’s genuine. Loving. Strong.”
“So is Robertson.”
“He’s a pig!”
“No, Jenny. You’re wrong on that one.”
“He’s a brute male slob.”
“He’s all man, if that’s what you mean.”
“Macho perversions.”
“A year and a half ago, Robertson almost died pulling a deputy from a burning car. That’s not macho. It’s loyalty, bravery. It almost cost him his life, but he’d do it again tomorrow for any one of us.”
“That’s just what a woman needs,” Jenny said sarcastically.
“If you took the time to know him, you’d find he’s genuine. The most forthright man I know. You might even find you’d like him.”
“I doubt that very seriously.”
Ricky shrugged. “Dr. Melissa Taggert is also someone you’d like. A lot. And she’s . . . ”
“His girlfriend?”
“Right. Surprised?”
“She’s a doctor?”
“Coroner.”
“Seems like she could do better than Sheriff Robertson.”
“Sheriff Robertson is not your enemy,” Ricky said. “Somebody murdered Sally’s mother, and I don’t think it was you.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I don’t think it was Sally, either.”
“It wasn’t!”
“Then why is Sally ‘lawyered up’ in the next room without you?”
“Look, Sergeant Ricky, I want to talk to Sally. I don’t want to say anything more until I talk to her.”
Ricky gave the appearance of sincere thought. “I’ll see what I can do.”
26
Saturday, November 2 11:50 A.M.
WHILE Martha slept upstairs, Pastor Cal Troyer arrived at the Brandens’ home and took a seat in the living room with Caroline and Evelyn. After discussing Martha’s present troubles, he said, “I’ve counseled with her several times. She sometimes stays late after a Wednesday night service.”
“Can you tell us what about?” Caroline asked.
“Personal things,” Cal said, averting his eyes.
Evelyn said, “There are some unresolved issues stemming from her sessions with me.”
“She hasn’t spoken to either of you all morning?” Cal asked.
Evelyn said, “She was pretty out of it when I found her this morning. We’re afraid the blood has something to do with the murder of Juliet Favor.”
“Good grief,” Cal said, shaking his head. “Martha is not capable of anything like that.”
“If you’re referring to the fact that she is Mennonite,” Evelyn said, “let me assure you, as deep as her troubles likely are, we have to consider it at least possible that she’s involved in some way.”
“She’s not just Mennonite,” Cal explained. “She’s conservative Mennonite. What some people call ‘country’ Mennonite.”
“OK,” Evelyn said tentatively. “I just think you ought to know I’ve seen quite a lot in my practice, Amish and Mennonite.”
Cal nodded. “Her congregation—well, her parents’ congregation, anyway—is led by Ben Mast. He used to be Black Bumper Amish. Came out of an Old Order sect that decided to buy cars, so long as they were painted to be plain. No shiny metal. As significant as the transition was, the sect still wi
ll not permit violence of any kind. Mennonites are pacifists. It just doesn’t figure.”
Evelyn held firm. “I wouldn’t argue with you on that point, Cal. I just know how much she’s been hurt. How many issues she still faces. And what I see in her today—well, this is a young woman in extreme crisis. Something has got a hold of her deep down, and if it’s what I think, she may have been capable of almost anything. Rage, violence, even suicide.”
Cal shook his head from side to side, rubbing his short white beard with the gnarled fingers of his carpenter’s hands.
Evelyn asked, “What did you talk about with her, Cal?” “Personal problems, all confidential, I’m afraid. Lifestyle issues for the most part.”
Caroline asked, “Has she been seeing anyone other than Sonny Favor?”
Said Cal, “He’s pretty much the one. You say she’s sleeping now?”
“Upstairs,” Caroline said.
“From what I know of Sonny Favor,” Cal said, as he left, “you’re gonna want to be here when she wakes up.”
IN THE Brandens’ living room, Evelyn and Caroline became only slowly aware of the drop in temperature. They had sat talking quietly, watching the snow falling heavily again outside the big living room windows at the front of the house, and the house had grown colder incrementally, to the point where they noticed it only now.
Caroline got up and followed a draft into the kitchen and then the family room. There, she found the sliding door open, and she closed it. She motioned to Evelyn, and the two climbed the stairs together, finding the covers folded back on Martha’s bed, and no Martha. The phone that normally sat on the nightstand had been pulled over to the bed, and it sat there, line stretched across the sheet.
Back downstairs, they went out onto the back porch through the sliding door and found the storm door at the steps ajar. In the new snow outside on the steps, there were fresh footprints, made by small, flat shoes, and the tracks angled across the backyard to the cliffs at the edge of the lot.
Caroline ran out into the snow without her coat. She reached the edge of the cliffs swiftly, and Evelyn saw her stop there and peer over. She saw Caroline cup her hands to her mouth, and shout over the edge. The snow muffled the sound of her voice, but Evelyn heard, “Martha! Martha!” before Caroline turned back from the line of barren trees.
Once inside, Caroline kicked off her shoes and started lacing on winter boots. Evelyn said, “Caroline,” softly.
Pushing her arms into her coat sleeves, Caroline said, “She’s gone down that steep path. Can’t see through the snow, but I can catch her, I know I can, Evelyn.”
Dr. Carson took Caroline gently by the shoulders and said, “Bringing her back here isn’t going to help.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Martha has some decisions to make, Caroline. Even if you could catch her, that wouldn’t change anything.”
“She’s not fit to go off on her own.”
“She’s stronger than you think.”
Relenting, Caroline took off her coat and laid it on the couch.
“She’s going to have to make some important choices, soon,” Evelyn added.
Said Caroline, “I wanted to help her.”
“We still can. When she comes to us. Then it will count for something. Until now, we were just watching her, anyway.”
“What about her baby?”
“What could you tell her now?”
“What about her boyfriend?”
“She has to decide.”
Caroline sat down heavily, arms limp at her sides. Her stocking feet were cold and wet from the snow. “I know what you’ve said about Ben Schlabaugh, but I don’t think I can handle it if she goes back to him.”
“If she has, it ought to be obvious when we talk to him tomorrow,” Evelyn said.
“The phone,” Caroline said, and started off for the bedroom.
There she sat on the edge of the bed, dialed *69, and got an answer, “I told you I can’t talk, Martha.”
“Who is this?” Caroline inquired.
“Sonny Favor. I’m busy.”
“Did you talk recently to Martha?”
“Who is this?”
“Mrs. Michael Branden.”
“Oh. Mrs. Branden. Your husband is right here.”
“Sonny, I need to know if you talked with Martha. I know she called this number.”
“What if I did?”
“You did, didn’t you. She’s left, Sonny, and we need to find her.”
“I can’t help you, Mrs. Branden.”
“Sonny, it’s important. I’m sorry about your mother, but I need to find Martha, now.”
“I’ll let you talk to Dr. Branden,” he said, and handed the phone across the table in the jail’s Interview B. “It’s your wife,” he said to the professor.
“Caroline, something wrong?”
“Martha left. Hiked down over the cliffs while we were talking with Cal Troyer in the living room.”
“I see,” Branden said. Robertson and the whole Favor entourage were in the room, their eyes focused on him.
“You can’t talk?” Caroline asked.
“No.”
“Did Sonny take a call a little before this one?”
“Yes.”
“It was Martha.”
“OK.”
“Did you hear his end of the conversation?”
“Yes. I’ll call you back.”
When she hung up, Caroline said to Evelyn Carson, “Martha called Sonny Favor. At least we know she’s talking now.”
27
Saturday, November 2 Noon
BRUCE Robertson stood at the end of the table in Interview B and watched the professor’s expression as he handed the cell phone back across the table to Sonny Favor. Clearly, the professor wasn’t happy. And clearly, he had not wanted to talk in front of people.
And this was the second call to that phone in the last ten minutes, the sheriff mused. In the first call, Sonny had evidently been talking to Martha Lehman. He had said Martha several times, once not politely. Judging from the one end of the conversation he had heard, Robertson surmised that things had started off pleasantly enough, and then had turned convincingly adversarial, as if Sonny had switched to talking to someone new and foreign. Last of all, the boy had curtly said, “I can’t deal with that, now. You’re going to have to take care of that problem on your own.”
After switching off, Sonny had been quiet and sullen, but the second call had seemed to fluster him again. He took the phone back from Branden, pocketed it, stood up, and said, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Robertson said, “We still have questions, Mr. Favor, about last night.”
Sonny looked down at DiSalvo, seated next to Branden, and said, “Do I have to stay?” His cheeks were vibrant red, and his eyes focused intensely on his lawyer, as he rocked in place from one foot to the other. He seemed to Robertson to be about ready to bolt from the room.
DiSalvo said, “I think we’ve talked long enough, Sheriff. The kids have nothing more to add.”
“They have not cooperated with our investigation, Henry. I take note of that.”
“I beg to differ,” DiSalvo said. “They’ve each accounted for their actions. We have nothing more to add here.”
DiSalvo rose. Sally stood up when DiSalvo held her chair, and the three navigated their way to the door. Out in the hall, DiSalvo held out his card for Robertson.
“I don’t need your card, Henry!” Robertson barked. “What in the world’s the matter with you, anyways?”
“I’m their lawyer, Bruce, at least for now. A new fellow is flying in from New York City. Ought to be here by this evening. Until then, the children have nothing more they can tell you under my instructions.”
With that, Henry DiSalvo, longtime friend to Robertson, Branden, and everyone else in the sheriff’s office, turned curtly and led his charges out the front door of the jail. That left Robertson and Branden standing alone in the pine-paneled
hallway. Robertson read anxiety on Branden’s face and guessed it had to do with Martha Lehman.
Said Robertson, “I think you’d better bring Martha Lehman in to see me.”
“OK, Bruce, but we’ve got a problem.”
“She’s Sonny girlfriend, there’s the blood, and she left his house driving his car last night.”
“There’s more.”
“Give, Mike. Right now.”
“You know Evelyn Carson has been taking care of Martha Lehman since she found her outside her office early this morning.”
“Like you said earlier.”
“And that Martha was mute, again.”
“That was Martha talking on the phone with Sonny just now?”
“Right. But now she’s missing.”
“What do you mean, missing? I thought she was with Carson.”
“Caroline and Evelyn drove her over to my house to rest, and she took off when they thought she was asleep.”
“Blood on her clothes, and now you’ve lost her, Mike. That just tears it.”
“We won’t know it’s Juliet Favor’s blood until we have it tested.”
“‘We’ aren’t going to be testing anything, Professor.”
“Dan Wilsher has the clothes, Bruce. Missy can test them any time she wants.”
“I don’t want you having anything more to do with Martha Lehman, Mike.”
“I couldn’t know she’d skip out like this,” Branden complained.
“Yeah, well, now she’s gone. I ought to run the three of you in.”
“Evelyn’s got a right to treat her patient. To protect her while she’s vulnerable.”
“I still ought to run you and Caroline in. You for withholding evidence! Caroline for harboring a material witness!”
“If we had brought Martha right out to the Favor mansion this morning, at the earliest possible moment, what would you have done?”
“I’d have asked her about the blood on her clothes.”
“You’re not hearing me. She wasn’t talking. She was in shock. You couldn’t have gotten a thing from her.”
“At least she’d be in custody.”
Branden sighed. “This was just a couple of hours ago, Bruce. We needed time to bring Martha out of a stupor. Time to see what we were up against at the Favor house. And just as soon as I knew we couldn’t produce Martha on demand, I told you about it. So cut me some slack, OK?”