Close to the Broken Hearted

by Michael Hiebert

  “That’s right,” Eli said. “He drove back to Alabaster to his daddy’s for a while. Ain’t nothin’ more for him to do on the project ’til we get the permit to start workin’ on the church.”

  “You’re talkin’ ’bout your old church? Beside the Carson property?”

  “Beside my father-in-law’s property,” Eli corrected. “That’s right. The town had it condemned. We want to fix it up so it’s usable once more. Need to start up my congregation again.”

  “So you can raise money.”

  “That’s right,” Eli said again. “Nothin’ illegal ’bout that, is there?”

  “No, Mr. Brown, there isn’t.”

  “Leland’ll be coming back in a couple weeks. ’Sides, I wouldn’t have brought him here anyway. That boy ain’t levelheaded enough for adult conversation like the type we need to have. He’s fine for business stuff. Just not . . .” He trailed off.

  “Emotional stuff?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Goes in like a bull moose. I tell him that’s not the way to approach things. You want to soothe a bear, it takes honey. It certainly don’t take no shotgun.”

  Interesting choice of words, Leah thought.

  “To be right honest, the boy’s just got a lot of passion.” He laughed. “And you certainly bring the passion out in him, Miss Teal.”

  “I’d prefer if you called me Detective Teal,” Leah said. “And to be right honest, I reckon I bring the bullshit out in him. No offense.”

  “None taken, ma’am.”

  “So why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Mr. Brown?”

  “I came here on friendly terms, hopin’ we can work things out like civilized folk.”

  “I already see a problem with that, Mr. Brown. So far, there don’t seem nothin’ civilized ’bout the way you conduct yourself.”

  “Now hold on there just a sec, Miss—Detective Teal, that sounds like an accusation.”

  “No, I’m just statin’ a fact.”

  “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong since goin’ off to prison seventeen years ago.”

  “Your wife’s daddy bought the Carson Cattle Ranch.”

  “Fair and square.”

  Their voices were rising. Both of them were getting their backs up, but Leah wasn’t about to be the one to lower hers down.

  “Just seems a mite suspicious to me,” she said. “And he got it at such a low price. Now, how did he swing that?”

  Eli Brown stood from his chair. “I don’t see how my wife’s daddy’s business deals are any business of yours. The bank accepted the deal. The deed is in his name. Everythin’ ’bout it is legitimate!”

  “That’s somethin’ we’ll have to see ’bout.”

  “Well, I don’t need you stickin’ your nose in my business and tryin’ to mess things up for me. I finally have a shot at doin’ somethin’ good!” They were practically hollering now. There was no question Abe and Dewey could hear them from the front yard outside.

  “Somethin’ good?” Leah asked, her voice still loud. “Somethin’ like tormentin’ a poor girl after killin’ her baby brother?”

  Eli stamped his foot. “I told you! I don’t even know where the girl lives, goddamn it!”

  Leah cut him off. “Now that don’t sound too preacherlike to me, using the Lord’s name in vain. I’m startin’ to think just maybe you had somethin’ to do with what happened to Sylvie’s folks so your wife’s daddy could buy their land.”

  Something appeared in Eli Brown’s eyes then. It passed by quickly, but it was dark and evil. It scared Leah. It must’ve been the same thing Tom Carson saw that afternoon, right before the man’s finger pulled the trigger of that gun and forever changed the lives of his innocent family. The volume of Eli Brown’s voice lowered and so did the tone. When he spoke, the words came out one at a time, very precise and methodical. “If you’re gonna go round makin’ accusations like that, you better have an arrest warrant backin’ them up, you hear me? Or else—” He stopped himself.

  “Or else what, preacher man?”

  “Just watch yourself.”

  They both stared at each other in silence, the hatred in Eli Brown’s eyes palpable.

  Then the telephone rang and Leah nearly leaped onto the kitchen ceiling.

  Breaking their stare, she answered it. It was Miss Sylvie. Once again, she was in turmoil.

  “Slow down, girl,” Leah said. “Tell me again.”

  “It’s the backyard,” Sylvie said on the other end. “Someone’s been out there again.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “The cellar door’s open again.”

  “Same one?” Leah started suspecting there was something wrong with the latch after all.

  But what Sylvie said blew that theory right out of the sky. “Both of ’em. And there ain’t no wind, Officer Teal.” Leah eyed Eli Brown, wondering if he could pick up who she was talking to. “Go outside and check. And there hasn’t been any wind in the last thirty minutes, and this happened in the last thirty minutes.”

  She was talking so fast, Leah could barely understand her.

  “Just calm down, Sylvie, please? I’m trying to keep up.”

  “There ain’t no goddamn wind!”

  “How do you know it happened in the past thirty minutes?”

  “On account of I was outside sittin’ with the baby in the sun, watching it go down. Then I got tired of breast-feedin’ and went inside to fix her a bottle of milk that I’d pumped so I could put her down. When I came back out to get her blanket and stuff I found the doors open.”

  “Are you sure they weren’t open when you were outside earlier, and you just didn’t notice?” Leah asked.

  Sylvie practically screamed into the phone. “They weren’t goddamn open!”

  Leah had to move the receiver away from her ear. She was getting tired of people yelling. “Okay, okay,” she said calmly.

  “Whoever done it must’ve been watchin’ me. I’m afraid, Miss Leah!”

  “Okay, Sylvie? It’s all okay. You’re fine, right?”

  She heard Sylvie breathing hard on the other end.

  “Y—yeah.”

  “Whoever did it is gone now. You’re fine and your baby’s fine, right?”

  “Yeah, she’s here with me.”

  “Good. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to remain calm, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Leah hung up the phone and stared at it a few seconds. This basically just exonerated Eli Brown. He couldn’t have been at Sylvie’s in the past thirty minutes on account of he’d been here at her place during that time. “Your grandson really up in Alabaster?” she asked Eli, her eyes still glued to the phone.

  “Yeah,” Eli Brown said calmly. “No reason to lie ’bout that. You can check it out with his pa if you want. Let me give you the number.”

  He gave her the number.

  “Sorry,” Eli said, “but I couldn’t help but overhear some of that. Miss Sylvie, I presume?”

  Leah nodded.

  “And she’s had troubles in the past thirty minutes?”

  Another nod.

  “So you know it’s not me doin’ it, now?”

  “Looks like on the surface that would be the case.”

  Eli rubbed his chin. “How ’bout we just say I accept your apology and move on? I came here tryin’ to repair broken bridges, not blow ’em all to hell and high water.”

  Leah kept staring at the phone. If it weren’t Eli, then she had no suspects.

  “And I trust,” Eli said, “that your little threat ’bout Sylvie disputin’ the land deal was just a ruse?”

  When Leah didn’t react, Eli continued: “Yeah, I didn’t think she had any argument for it. I just didn’t want things held up.” With a laugh, he shook his head. “You certainly put Leland in a panic, though. Think ’bout it, Detective. I’m tryin’ to build a school. Why would I be harassin’ and, hell, murderin’ folk to do somethin’ that, in the eyes of the Lord, will be such a blessing to t
his community? It don’t make no sense.”

  He pushed his chair in, getting ready to leave. He laughed and shook his head again. Leah met the preacher man’s eyes. The corners of his mouth creased into a small smile as he held out his hand. “Can we at least try to exist in the same town without tearin’ each other’s throats out?”

  “I—I guess we can try,” Leah stammered and actually, to her own surprise, shook his hand.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  One thing she could say about Eli Brown. Whatever charisma he had had as a preacher all them years ago still lurked underneath his scruffy demeanor. She had no doubt he’d be successful at raising the money he needed to build his school. That charm was all just hidden away a bit beneath years of being worn through from spending so much time in the state prison system. Being on the inside can change a man. Leah knew that. She’d seen it happen on many occasions. Usually, the changes weren’t good. They manifested at the worst times, and in the worst ways.

  She wondered what sorts of things she’d see manifesting from Eli Brown.

  “I’ve gotta go get supper on,” he said, heading through her kitchen for the living room. “And I suspect you’ve gotta go pay Miss Sylvie a visit. Thank you for your time, Detective.”

  Ever since we heard my mother hollering, me and Dewey had stopped playing with our swords and had come as close as we dared to the picture window at the front of the house and tried to listen to what was going on inside.

  “You still think she trusts him?” I asked.

  “I have to admit,” Dewey said, “that’s a lot of yellin’. I reckon you might be right.”

  “Of course I’m right. I’m a good judge of character.”

  The yelling calmed down and then we heard the telephone. My mother was quiet while she talked on the phone, so we couldn’t hear any of her conversation through the front window. We were also at least a room away on account of we couldn’t see anyone in the living room, which meant my mother and Preacher Eli had probably gone into the kitchen.

  I pointed this fact out to Dewey.

  “She sure must’ve been yellin’ awfully loud, then.”

  I smiled. “See? Told you.”

  A little bit later we did see my mother and Preacher Eli come around the corner into the living room and we quickly ducked down and crab-walked back to our places in the front yard where we’d been sword fighting. Assuming our positions, we went back to battling, although our attention was really on the front porch where the door was being opened. My mother said good-bye to Preacher Eli.

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” she told him.

  “I reckon you will,” Preacher Eli said. “And I hope you do, soon. Have a fine evenin’, Miss Teal.” He caught himself. “Sorry. I mean Detective Teal.”

  “You too, Mr. Brown.”

  Once again, Preacher Eli gave us the slightest of acknowledgments as he trudged past and got into his car. Me and Dewey had stopped fighting completely as he backed out and headed down the street toward Hunter Road, probably bound for his little shotgun shack sitting up in Blackberry Springs like a command post.

  Back at the door my mother had slipped on her shoes and was coming outside, too. “So, I s’pose I was right after all,” I said, pushing my chest out slightly.

  “ ’Bout what?” she asked.

  “Preacher Eli. I told you he is not to be trusted. He already done and killed once. You can’t trust killers. I bet you feel a bit silly now for getting so mad about me and Dewey having our stakeout.”

  My mother came down the steps staring at me. Something flashed across her face. “That man ain’t up to nothin’.”

  “What do you mean?” I felt my own face begin to get warm. I was tired of having to explain the same things over and over when I was always right and everyone else seemed to always be wrong.

  “Eli Brown’s innocent.”

  I wondered if my face was getting red. It was definitely growing hot. “But—” I stammered. “We heard you yellin’.”

  “You should mind your business,” she said, pointing at me.

  That did it. Now I got really upset. I was tired of minding my business. I was tired of not being taken seriously. “I’m so sick of you not listenin’ to me!” I snapped, my voice rising in volume and speed. “Preacher Eli is guilty!”

  “Abe! Calm down right now!”

  But I didn’t calm down, and Dewey’s face grew ashen and his eyes looked like saucers as he watched. They filled up with fear.

  “Preacher Eli is the one who’s been upsetting Miss Sylvie! You just refuse to listen on account of it’s me tellin’ you! If it were anyone else, you’d listen! You never listen to me!” My voice had grown to hollering. Tears stung the back of my eyes. “You didn’t listen to me ’bout my aunt Addison and you ain’t listenin’ to me ’bout this!”

  “Abe!” my mother yelled back. “Drop your tone, right now!”

  “I will not! I’m so sick of bein’ ignored! So sick of mindin’ my own business! So sick of—” My face felt like it was on fire. As I screamed, I waved my sword in the air. With a frustrated wail, I held it out horizontally in front of me and lifted my knee. With one hard yank, I brought it down and with a loud crack! I split it in two, practically breaking it right at the hilt.

  Dewey hadn’t moved. His expression hadn’t changed.

  I felt a tear run down the cheek of my burning face.

  “Dewey,” my mother said calmly, “go home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His voice trembled.

  “Abe, go to your room. I have to go see Miss Sylvie. You’ll stay in your room until I get back home, understood?”

  Not another word was spoken as Dewey picked up his bike and rode off down Cottonwood Lane beneath that red-streaked sky, and I slowly stumbled up the front steps of my house, crying. Cotton floated in the air behind me as I went inside, kicked off my shoes, and went to my room.

  Collapsing on my bed, I let the tears run from my eyes, over the bridge of my nose, and on to my pillow, unsure of what had come over me.

  CHAPTER 29

  On the ride over to Sylvie’s, Leah forgot all about Abe’s outburst, and began to unwind all the theories that had been building up in her head. She had done exactly what Ethan Montgomery warned her not to: She’d let her imagination run amok. Preacher Eli wasn’t guilty of harassing Sylvie Carson. Why would the man get out on parole and then risk that freedom just to barnstorm the sister of the boy he’d accidentally killed? When she thought of it now, it so obviously made no sense; she chided herself for falling so easily into believing it. She had wanted to believe it.

  Then there were the “mysterious” deaths of Sylvie’s parents, which weren’t so mysterious at all. Sylvie’s mother’s death had been a mystery for a few weeks when it happened all them years ago. Then Leah and those experts from Mobile had pieced together a perfectly fine working plot and followed a few leads that brought them straight to a suspect. One of Eli Brown’s parishioners had gone out on his own and done the deed, thinking he was working in the name of God. Eli Brown tended to attract the extremists, and nobody was as extreme as James Richard Cobbler. Even on his way to the chair (known as Yellow Mama in these parts), the man still held that he’d done nothing wrong. He’d been working in the name of the Lord. Well, that was a Lord Leah was happy not to call her own, thank you very much.

  Despite how torn up he’d been about losing his wife, even Tom Carson had seemed satisfied with how justice had prevailed once the actual sentence was carried out. The case had been solved, damn it. Shame on Leah for dredging up old memories that were in no need of dredging up.

  And Tom Carson’s case had never been anything but a suicide. Leah had no idea what made her suddenly decide to turn it into something else. The man had been so depressed he’d spent his life savings on a therapist. He’d even waited until Sylvie wasn’t home to kill himself and made sure she wouldn’t be the one who found his body; that responsibility fell to a farmhand.

  N
o, so far, all Leah’s theories had been mirages. In some ways, she was worse than Sylvie. She’d been jumping at shadows.

  She was thinking about all this as she pulled into Sylvie’s drive to discover, just as Sylvie had said she would, both cellar doors wide open around the back of the house. And just as Sylvie said, there wasn’t any wind, or at least not enough to make that a credible excuse. Besides, last time she was here, Leah felt the way that clasp had tightened. There wasn’t any way those doors were blowing open unless Alvin was hit by a twister.

  So that meant someone really was coming into Miss Sylvie’s backyard. This was hardly any surprise given that the last time Leah was called out someone had obviously been inside her actual house. Leah still found it disquieting how they’d somehow left the place completely locked up behind them. The strange part was the complete lack of any evidence of potential danger. Well, she supposed that mucking around with Sylvie’s shotgun showed some disturbing signs—but whoever it was had disarmed it. They had made the place safer, not more hazardous.

  This time it really seemed as though someone was trying to make Sylvie look like (or think that) she was going crazier than everyone thought she was. Because, if she really did only go inside for a half hour, this whole incident was set up to make it look like she was paranoid and delusional. And, possibly, to make people think she was doing these incidents to herself (which, of course, had crossed Leah’s mind).

  Like before, Leah got down on her hands and knees, and this time she forced back her fears and went partially into the crawl space with her flashlight. The dirt ground was uneven, but there was nothing and nobody down there. Just a bunch of dirt. Again she saw marks in the dirt, but she couldn’t tell if they were any different than they had been before. Just like last time, Leah felt a little ashamed for not searching the crawl space properly, but she couldn’t bring herself to go in any farther. As it was, her pulse was up. Besides, there didn’t appear to be anything down here but probably some spiders stuck in this tight, dark space.