Chapter Nine
Ward headed over to the mercantile to talk to Doug Blakely. He’d already questioned him about the break-in, but this time he decided he needed to learn a little more about the commotion the four Lytle boys had caused the other day. Folks seemed to think the two incidents were related, so it bore some additional looking into.
Business was slow inside the mercantile and Doug was more than happy to talk about the incident.
“Elmer’s boys, Larry and Russell, came in first,” he said as he wiped down his counter. “They needed to pick up some flour for their ma. They were at the counter with the sack of flour and eyeing the penny candy when Glen and Bart walked in.”
“And that’s when the trouble started?” Ward prompted.
Doug nodded. “I can’t say as I know who exactly started it. One of the boys bumped the other and refused to apologize. Next thing I knew they were yelling, the flour sack upended and spilled everywhere, and fists started flying.”
Yep, the boys sounded as quick to take offense as their fathers. “Did you have other customers in the store at the time?”
The shop owner nodded. “Reggie Barr and her youngest kid, Hortense Lawrence, and Hazel Andrews.”
Hazel had witnessed it? Why was he just now learning about that?
“In fact, Miss Andrews tried to calm the boys down,” Doug continued. “And it almost worked until the flour sack spilled open.”
Ward’s gut clenched. Didn’t the woman have any common sense at all, wading in like that? He didn’t believe the boys would have deliberately hurt her, but in the heat of the moment and with tempers flaring, there’s no telling what could have happened.
“Luckily Adam Barr and Hank Chandler were nearby and heard the commotion. They helped me break it up before too much damage was done.”
Ward already knew about Adam and Hank’s role so he let that statement go without comment.
Doug gave him a probing look. “Are you asking about this because you think those boys are to blame for the break-in that happened that evening?”
“I just want to make sure I’ve checked all the possibilities.” He leaned forward. “What do you think?”
The store owner rubbed his chin. “I think, given the timing, those boys are the only culprits that make any sense.”
That mirrored his own thoughts on the matter. That, and the fact that the only thing taken was candy, definitely pointed to it having been kids. But which set of brothers? Because he didn’t for a minute believe the four of them could work together.
Wanting to leave the adult Lytles to cool their heels a bit longer, Ward decided to check in with a few of the folks who’d witnessed the altercation in the mercantile. Maybe one of them had seen something Doug had missed.
He went over to the Lawrence place first. When he asked Enoch’s daughter Tensy to describe what she’d seen, she nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. “I was there but I’m not sure how much I can tell you about what happened. I was by the canned peaches, near the back of the shop, when the boys came in. So I didn’t really notice anything until it got loud.” She grimaced. “It’s a good thing Mr. Barr and Mr. Walker came in to break them up ’cause they were getting mighty riled. In fact, they were still shouting at each other when they were made to leave.”
She gave him a troubled look. “You don’t think this has anything to do with the break-in that night, do you? I mean I’ve heard folks talking but I figured that’s all it was, talk.”
Ward carefully refrained from making any judgments. “I was hoping maybe you could tell me. You caught a glimpse of someone one of the times he was at your place. What do you think—could it have been one of the Lytle boys?”
“Like I said before, I don’t know, I only caught a glimpse, and a rather blurred one at that. He was racing around the corner of the barn. But I guess, I mean, I suppose he was about the same size as one of the two older boys, Larry or Glen.” She grimaced. “But please don’t ask me to say for sure ’cause I couldn’t rightly do that.”
She seemed to be getting agitated at the idea of being a witness and Ward was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry, that won’t really be necessary. I was wondering more if you could disprove the talk based on what you saw then asking you to positively identify someone. I’m sure if you could do that you would have already done it.”
She nodded, then frowned. “So you don’t think it was one of the Lytles?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just it would be easier for you to say it wasn’t one of them if the general size or build didn’t match than the other way around.”
She gave him an admiring grin. “That’s very clever of you.”
After a few more questions, Ward excused himself and headed back to town. He found Reggie Barr in her photography studio.
“I’ll be glad to tell you what I remember of the incident, but to be honest, I was more concerned with keeping Patricia out of harm’s way than in noting every detail of what was happening.”
“Understandable.”
Reggie gave him her version of what had happened, which didn’t add anything new to the picture. Maybe he’d get more out of Hazel.
But for now, it was time to check in on the two men he’d left locked in their cells.
Entering his office, Ward was glad to discover that the bickering had died down. He scooped up the keys to the cell doors, then faced the prisoners. “If you two hotheads have settled down enough to go your separate ways without a repeat of this morning’s ruckus, I’ll let you out. I don’t see any need to have the town bear the expense of feeding lunch to a couple of sorry excuses for grown men.”
As he inserted the key in the first lock, he paused and gave both men hard looks. “And I suggest you men act like parents and have serious talks with those boys of yours about actions and consequences. Because I aim to get to the bottom of all the trouble that’s been happening around town. And if I find proof that any of them were involved, I’ll throw them right here in these very same cells. Understand?”
With surly looks tossed at each other, the men mumbled assurances to Ward and he let them go.
When the office door finally shut behind them, Ward leaned back in his chair, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet. Maybe his warning had done the trick and they’d seen the last of these nuisance pranks.
A hint of doubt nagged at him, though, a feeling that he was missing some piece of the puzzle.
Pushing his chair back in frustration, he stood. It was nearly noon, time to take Meg to lunch. And he might as well invite Hazel to come along as well.
After all, she was helping him take care of Meg so the least he could do was buy her a meal.
Which made him wonder yet again, just how serious were her financial problems? And how could he find out without embarrassing her?
* * *
As they walked down the sidewalk toward the restaurant, Hazel thought how ironic life could be. Now that she’d decided to leave Turnabout and put thoughts of Ward behind her, she was spending more time in his company than ever before.
Not that I’m complaining, Lord. I’m making some very nice memories to carry with me when I head to New York, and for that I am very grateful.
“So how did your morning go?” Ward asked Meg.
“Miss Hazel is teaching me how to sew.”
He met Hazel’s gaze over Meg’s head. “Is she now?”
Was that approval she saw in his expression?
Meg’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “I’m making a dress for Chessie.” She held up the index finger on her right hand, showing him the bandage it sported. “I pricked my finger though.”
This time the look he shot her was less approving.
“It bled a little but Miss Hazel said I was very brave ’cause I didn’t even cry.”
&
nbsp; “That is very brave,” he agreed solemnly.
The little girl nodded. “Someday I’m going to make beautiful dresses for people,” she said earnestly, “just like Miss Hazel.”
Hazel was touched by Meg’s simple statement. She had a sudden, sharp longing to be the one to raise this child, to help erase any sense of abandonment or unworthiness she might feel from her previous life. To be the one to help her discover all the wonderful possibilities life could bring.
But that was not to be. The new life waiting for her in New York didn’t have a place in it for a little girl. Besides, she was coming to believe more and more that God had plans for this little girl that included keeping her close to Ward.
Thankfully Ward seemed unaware of her thoughts and was still focused on Meg. “That sounds like a fine ambition. And you have a good teacher.”
“And she says I’m a good student.”
They’d arrived at the restaurant by this time and, as usual, Meg went over to look at the books while they waited for their food to be brought out.
“Isn’t Half-pint young for sewing lessons?”
“She’s old enough to hold a needle and stitch a seam if I mark it for her.” More or less. “She still needs a lot of help, of course, but she’s a quick learner and whatever she lacks in skill she makes up for in enthusiasm.”
“But isn’t it dangerous to give her something as sharp as a needle? It appears she’s already stabbed herself once.”
Hazel reached across the table to touch his hand briefly, pulling back as soon as she realized what she was doing. “It was just a shallow pinprick. Don’t worry, I keep a close watch on her. And pricking a finger once or twice is a good way to learn how to be careful and how to use a thimble properly.”
“Was this her idea or yours?”
Hazel hid a smile. Whether he realized it or not, Ward was already acting like a parent. “She watched me work on a dress this morning and had a lot of questions. I thought it would be best to give her a piece of her own to work on so she could have a way to satisfy her curiosity and gain the pride and confidence that comes with learning a new skill.” She sat up straighter. “Besides, it’s a skill every girl should learn.”
He raised a brow. “At not yet five?”
Hazel shrugged. “She’s managing.” Then she leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “You should have seen how proud she was when she finished sewing her first seam.” It had been uneven and much too loose but that was beside the point.
He turned to watch Meg for a moment while Hazel watched him. Should she tell him that one of the reasons Meg wanted to learn to sew was so she could sew for him? Would that please or worry him?
Before she could decide, he turned back to her and his expression shifted as he changed the subject. “I understand you were at the mercantile the day the Lytle boys caused such a ruckus.”
Why the accusatory tone? “That’s right.”
“And you tried to break things up?”
“Of course. Someone had to do something. I just wish—”
“That was a dangerously fool thing to do. Don’t you realize you could have gotten hurt?”
Her irritation at being called foolish was offset by the hint of concern she read into his comment. She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh for goodness’ sake, they’re just boys, not hardened criminals. They would never hurt me or anyone else. They just need someone to provide them with the right kind of discipline.”
“Well, that someone sure as thunder isn’t you.”
His vehemence set her back. Why was he so angry? “If not me, then who? Their parents certainly aren’t doing the job.”
“That’s not your—”
Meg returned to the table just then, effectively ending their discussion.
But Hazel could tell Ward wasn’t appeased.
And a part of her was pleased. Because it showed that he did care about her on some level.
But was it enough?
* * *
After he left Hazel and Meg at the door to the dress shop, Ward returned to his office. He was still frustrated by his unfinished discussion with Hazel. He had no confidence whatsoever that she wouldn’t go barging in again next time a ruckus started. He was even more irritated when he realized he hadn’t asked her one question about what she’d actually witnessed that day at the mercantile. Additional proof, if he’d needed it, that he couldn’t do his job properly when he got personally involved with someone.
Unable to sit still, he stood and paced across the room. It was a little early, but perhaps making his afternoon rounds would help clear his head. He could also speak to the two men who’d helped break up the ruckus at the mercantile and find out what they remembered.
As it turned out, neither Adam nor Hank had much to add to the picture. Another dead end.
Ward plopped down and leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to gain from those interviews. There was nothing that tied that incident at the mercantile with the Lytle boys to the later break-in, other than loose talk from folks who liked to jump to conclusions.
No, there weren’t going to be any shortcuts or easy answers, he’d just have to—
The street door forcefully opened and Eunice Ortolon marched inside, obviously agitated. “Sheriff Gleason, I need to report a crime.”
Ward stood and waved her to a seat. “What happened?”
“Someone snatched all of the wash off of my clothesline. In broad daylight, mind you.” She fanned herself with her hands. “Whatever is this world coming to?”
So the vandal had struck again. And in the middle of the day. “Any idea when it happened?”
Eunice nodded. “I hung the laundry out on the line around nine o’clock this morning. I went out about thirty minutes ago to check if it was dry and that’s when I saw the clothes all scattered on the ground. It wasn’t until I started gathering it up, though, that I realized several pieces were missing.”
“Anything special about these missing pieces?”
Eunice’s face turned an unflattering, blotchy red. “Yes.”
He raised a brow, inviting her to elaborate.
“They were my unmentionables.” She blurted out the words as if they tasted sour.
Ward didn’t give in to the urge to smile. The perpetrator might have a wicked sense of humor but this was criminal mischief, pure and simple. “Perhaps the person who scattered your laundry didn’t actually steal anything. A dog or other animal could have come along behind him and carried some of it off.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not the case.”
“How can you be sure?”
She stood. “Follow me.”
Uh-oh. He could tell already this was not going to be good.
Chapter Ten
“Mortified. I’m absolutely mortified. Who could have done such a horrid, scandalous thing?”
Ward didn’t bother to say anything—he was pretty sure Eunice wasn’t expecting an answer.
He stood balanced on the top of a ladder that he’d leaned up against the pecan tree in Eunice’s front yard. Dangling from several branches and flapping proudly in the breeze for all the town to see, were Eunice’s freshly laundered unmentionables.
It had puzzled him at first as to how the culprit had managed to get some of the white linen underthings so high up in the tree. He didn’t believe whoever it was had taken the time to climb the tree in broad daylight to pull off this audacious prank and risk getting caught. But then he’d noticed a number of large rocks scattered around the base of the tree and the puzzle had been solved. The wily criminal had wrapped each garment in a rock and lobbed it into the tree.
As he plucked the last article of clothing from its resting place and stuffed it in the boardinghouse owner’s pillowcase along with the others, h
e couldn’t help but think that whoever this prankster was, he had a sly sense of humor. Would any of the Lytle boys have gone to this much trouble, shown this much finesse and ingenuity?
He stepped down from the ladder and handed the pillowcase to Eunice. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone hanging around outside the boardinghouse this morning?”
“I already said I didn’t. Believe me, if I’d seen anyone I’d be quick to let you know.”
He believed her. Which meant the perpetrator had been able to do this without gaining the notice of the always-on-the-lookout-for-gossip matron. And right under her nose. Quite a feat.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to step back behind your house and check things out.”
Eunice clutched the pillowcase to her bosom and nodded. “Just do your job and catch these hooligans. It’s a terrible state of affairs when folks no longer feel safe in their own homes.”
Ward clenched his jaw at her tone but nodded. “For what it’s worth, ma’am, I don’t think anyone is in any personal danger from these hooligans, as you call them. But I agree, it’s time to put an end to this.” And with a tip of his hat, he headed around to the back of her building.
As he’d feared, there wasn’t really much for him to see. The ground around the clothesline was well trampled, with most of the footprints obviously belonging to Eunice. Not surprising, especially since she’d apparently raced around picking up her laundry when she’d discovered it scattered on the ground.
There were signs of other footprints that could possibly have been made by the culprit, but they were too distorted to be of much use.
So he concentrated instead on the scene itself. This side of the boardinghouse was hidden from the main street and faced a wooded area. So it would have been fairly easy to approach unobserved. Again, this was something that had required planning and some knowledge of Eunice’s schedule. Not something he could picture any of the Lytle boys doing.
Which meant he was back to square one. Except that now he had a clearer picture in his head of the sort of person he was after.
A Tailor-Made Husband Page 9