Forty Dead Men

by Donis Casey

  A movement caught Alafair’s attention, breaking the spell. A woman had come out of the neighboring house and was standing on the porch, watching her. Alafair strode toward the house as the neighbor woman came down the porch steps to meet her on the walk.

  The woman was of indeterminate race, a gray braid hanging down her back and skin brown as leather. She was bony and weathered, but her movements were fluid. Alafair judged her age to be somewhere between fifty and one hundred. Her green-brown eyes crinkled when she greeted Alafair with a cheerful, “Howdy. What can I do for you? If you’re a-looking for Harvey Stump, you ain’t going to find him this side of eternity.”

  Alafair liked the woman immediately and smiled back. She introduced herself, then got to the point. “Are you the lady who spoke to the law on the day that Mr. Stump met his maker?”

  “I am. You can call me Granny Murray. It was quite the event, it was. Them two lawmen come pounding on the door, all shocked-looking and out of breath. The fat one told me that Harvey got done in, and they wanted to know if I had heard a ruckus anytime over the past few hours. I had, I told them. I saw Harvey and a man I didn’t know having a set-to right on his porch and Harvey was getting the worst of it. That was, oh, about dinnertime on Thursday last. But Harvey was sure alive when the stranger left, I told them that. If he was the one come back and killed Harvey later, I wouldn’t know. Are you a friend of Harvey’s?”

  “No, not exactly. I know the family, though, and I’d like to piece together what happened to him.” Alafair figured that answer was vague enough. She extended a hand.

  Granny Murray may have been starved for company, or just a busybody. Either way, she was delighted to have the opportunity to tell the exciting tale to someone new. “You want to come inside and have a glass of tea?”

  “I’d be obliged,” Alafair said.

  ***

  Granny Murray’s house was neat and clean, but stuffed to the gills with furniture and geegaws. Two canaries in a giant wicker birdcage sat in front of a side window, and three cats lounged on the arms and seats of overstuffed chairs. Alafair expected that the canaries lived in a perpetual state of anxiety. The minute she sat down she found herself with a cat in her lap.

  Granny Murray came back into the room with tall glasses of sweet tea on a tray and set them on a side table. “Yes, I was mighty surprised to see anybody at all visit that house,” she said, saving Alafair the trouble of resuming the interrogation. “Harvey was a nice man. A helpful neighbor when I needed one. But he kept to himself. Never did have much company. Certainly not no men.”

  Alafair shifted the fat feline in her lap and took a tea glass from the table. “Did you get a good look at the man Harvey was arguing with, Miz Murray?”

  “Well, I seen him. He was dark-haired, had on a black hat. That’s about all I could tell. My eyesight ain’t that good. Nothing wrong with my hearing, though. The stranger didn’t say anything, but Harvey shrieked like a stuck pig. There was scuffle, though it looked to me like the stranger was the one doing all the fighting. He poked Harvey a couple of good ones and then he left. Got on a chestnut horse and rode off. Harvey went back inside and I didn’t see him no more.”

  Alafair took a breath. A black hat and a chestnut horse. No wonder Scott thought the description sounded too much like Gee Dub for comfort. Alafair leaned forward. “Miz Murray, did you see a young woman with dark hair, blue skirt, white shirt? I expect she would have come by a little earlier than the man.”

  Granny Murray’s eyes narrowed as she thought back. “I didn’t see anybody like that. I didn’t come out of the house until I heard Harvey yelling. He could have had a whole parade of company up till then. No, he never had young women to come by. There was an old woman used to visit him regular. I seen her stop by his place maybe once a week. She never came that day, though. Not that I saw.”

  “Do you know who she was? What did she look like?” Alafair could hardly contain herself.

  Granny picked up the tabby that was winding itself around her ankles and settled back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself. “Little old bit of a thing. Looked like a stiff wind would blow her over. Never met her. Harvey’s mama and daddy passed while he was at the war, so I figured she was his grandma. I kind of liked Harvey. He helped me mend that fence in the back that got ripped up in the big storm. It laid there for nigh on two years because I didn’t have the money or the muscle to do it myself. He was quiet, never went out much. I give him okra from my garden when I got too much. Never had visitors. But for his grandma.”

  “Did you tell Marshal Gundry and Mr. Tucker about this woman?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The lawmen who found Harvey’s body,” Alafair prompted, impatient.

  “Well, now, they didn’t ask about her. They just asked if I’d seen anything unusual over to Harvey’s because he was dead. Him and the stranger getting into it with one another, that was unusual.”

  “Would you recognize the old woman if you saw her again?

  “I surely would.” Granny’s answer didn’t surprise Alafair. She had probably had her nose pressed to the window most of the time. “You suspect she has something to do with Harvey getting killed?” Granny asked.

  Alafair was suddenly anxious to leave and deliver this new information to Scott or Meriwether or anyone who might find some way to use it for Gee Dub’s defense. She came up with the first reasonable response to Granny Murray’s question she could think of. “I don’t know, Miz Murray, but if she was Harvey’s grandma, she ought to be told what happened to him.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Alafair walked at a brisk pace back toward downtown, intending to immediately drive back to Boynton. She rounded the corner from Oak onto Main Street and paused mid-step when she caught sight of the man sitting in a cane-bottomed chair in front of the Westlake Restaurant. Right where her buggy was parked. He had leaned back and crossed his ankles over the top of the hitching post, his hands clasped together over his ample belly. She straightened and marched up the sidewalk, coming to a halt beside him.

  Scott Tucker, town sheriff of Boynton, Oklahoma, and her cousin by marriage, lifted his hat enough to cut her a sidelong glance from under the brim. “I knew I recognized that gray mare. What are you doing here, Alafair?”

  “I could ask the same of you, Scott. You don’t have any authority down here.”

  Scott’s lips thinned. “Neither do you. Shaw told me you went to Okmulgee. What in blazes do you think you’re doing here?”

  “Same as you, I reckon. I must say, I’m glad to see that you’ve finally decided to side with the family and look further into this sad affair.”

  If Scott was hurt by her attitude, it didn’t show. “That’s just what I figured on doing, but when I saw your rig, I thought I’d better find out what you’re up to first. I went looking for you at Stump’s house, but you weren’t there.”

  “I just spent a half-hour talking to the neighbor lady. Y’all should have questioned her more closely, Scott. She told me that the man she knew as Harvey used to get regular visits from an old woman. I talked privately to Pearl Johnson this morning, too, before I left Okmulgee. And from things she told me I’m betting the old woman is Dan Johnson’s mother, Scott. His folks knew he was here all the time.”

  Scott held up a hand to slow the flood of words. “Hang on, now. Why else do you think I am here? Lawyer Meriwether told Shaw it’d be a good idea to engage a private agent to do some extra digging, so I volunteered to take on the job. I was going to start by talking to the neighbors again, but since you’ve already stuck a toe in that pond, let’s have a sit in this cafe and you tell me what you’ve come up with before I waste my time going over the same road.”

  The dinnertime regulars gave Alafair and Scott a cursory once-over when they took their seats at a corner table, but interest waned after the waitress took their order. Still, Alafair kep
t her voice low as she brought Scott up to speed.

  Scott mulled over her information for a few minutes before he said, “Alafair, even if Dan Johnson’s mother did know where he was living and visited him every week, I don’t see what that has to do with Dan’s murder. I’d be hard-pressed to believe that she’s the one who shot him.”

  “No, but what I’m thinking is that if Dan’s parents knew where he was, it’s likely somebody else knew, as well. You need to ask them who else they told, Scott. Or maybe somebody followed Miz Johnson when she came for a visit, somebody who wasn’t happy to find out that Dan was still alive.”

  They fell silent while the waitress set down their glasses of tea. Scott resumed the conversation after she went back into the kitchen to slice pie. “All right, Alafair. If Dan’s folks knew he was alive and pretending to be somebody else, that’s probably going to get them into some trouble for abetting a fugitive, at least. Maybe they did tell someone else where he was. I’ll look into it. What you don’t know is that Holly came to see me yesterday evening and told me that she and Gee Dub were both here in Council Hill on the day Dan died. That she hitchhiked down here from Boynton and she did speak to Dan. And after she left his house, Gee Dub showed up and found her sitting in this very cafe. She says that the two of them left Council Hill together and were in one another’s company from then until she went back up to the house and talked to you.”

  Alafair’s stomach fluttered. He had been here, after all. All her supposition and theorizing about who else besides Gee Dub might have shot Dan Johnson could come to nothing. She decided to put her own spin on the new information. “Well, that’s good! If Johnson didn’t die until after the two of them had left town and they were together from then on, then Holly is Gee Dub’s alibi.”

  She could tell by Scott’s expression that he was sorry to have to tell her that Gee Dub was still very much a suspect. “It could be that the gunshot the neighbor lady heard after Holly and Gee left wasn’t the one that killed Johnson.”

  Alafair wasn’t about to give up. “Granny Murray was the last person to see Dan Johnson alive, and she swore that he was still alive after his fight with the stranger.”

  “But was the stranger really Gee Dub? Sounds like he was. And if he was, did he go directly from Johnson’s house to meet up with Holly here at this cafe? Or did he lurk about until Johnson was in his garage and out of sight and then finish him off in private? Or maybe the both of them are in cahoots and did the deed together.”

  “Scott, you are reaching…”

  He held up a hand to silence her. “Maybe. But the prosecutor is going to ask the same questions. One of the reasons I came down today is to talk to the waitress here and see if she’s the one who served them two. And if she is, what does she remember? Now, she could tell me something that’ll make Gee Dub or Holly or the both of them look guilty,” Scott warned. “It’s possible that she’ll tell me that Holly sat here for hours before Gee Dub showed up. Or that he came in before she did, or that they came in together. She might have overheard them plotting to do away with Johnson, or concocting a story to make one or the other of them look innocent. Are you sure you want to hear what she has to say?”

  She was amazed he’d ask. “Of course I do.”

  “Then you have to promise not to say a word. I don’t want you jumping in with leading questions, or trying to defend him.”

  “But, Scott…”

  “But nothing. Be quiet or leave.”

  ***

  Ruth Tucker had never visited anyone in the county jail before, and the fact that a matron insisted on patting her down before she was allowed to see Gee Dub didn’t do anything to calm her nerves. Her fiancé, Trent Calder, had warned her how it was going to go before the two of them ever boarded the train for Muskogee, so she had already stiffened her resolve and determined to put up with whatever indignities were required. In truth, the matron’s search was perfunctory, just checking the pockets in Ruth’s skirt and looking in her handbag. Besides, Trent gave her a supportive smile when she emerged from the ladies’ cloakroom and that made her feel much better. They had been briefed on protocol before they were led to the visitor’s room, a basic affair with a bare table and four bare chairs and a uniformed guard standing at the door. They were to stay on their side of the table and not touch the prisoner nor give him anything. The guard was there to see that the rules were followed, but he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in eavesdropping on their conversation. Ruth figured that if they kept their voices low, the guard wouldn’t be able to overhear very much, if anything.

  Ruth was surprised to see that Gee Dub looked fine. She suspected that if she were the one arrested on suspicion of murder, she would be so weak with fear that she would hardly be able to stand on her own two feet. But Gee Dub seemed rested and calm. Why that was, she couldn’t say, but she hoped it was because he was confident that he would be cleared of suspicion shortly. After what he had been through in France, he probably didn’t find incarceration particularly troubling. His attitude lifted her spirits, even in light of what she and Trent had come to tell him. Her first words to Gee Dub after he sat down were innocuous enough. “How are they treating you, Gee?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Couldn’t be better,” he said. “How are things at home?”

  “About the same. Everybody is worried about you, of course. Listen, Gee Dub, Holly went to talk to Scott yesterday evening, and Trent heard it all.”

  The door between the front office and the jail cells stood open while Holly was telling her story to Scott. Trenton Calder had been in an open cell sitting on a cot with his hands clasped between his knees, listening to every word of the conversation.

  Trent related what Holly had said, his voice low, aware of the guard at the door. Gee Dub Tucker listened attentively, one elbow on the table and his cheek propped on his fist.

  “What did you do after Holly left the farm, Gee Dub?” Ruth asked, after Trent finished his tale. “Scott has already told Lawyer Meriwether everything that Holly said. Daddy and Mr. Meriwether will be by this afternoon and I’m sure they’ll ask you all about it.”

  Gee Dub sighed, but didn’t change positions. There was no use trying to keep Holly’s name out of it now. “I knew she would go to Council Hill. She was already at Johnson’s place when I got there. I waited round the corner till she left Johnson’s house.”

  “Did you talk to Johnson?”

  “Well, after she left, I did go up to the house.”

  Trent straightened. “What were you thinking?”

  A moment’s pause. “I was looking out for Holly.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing.”

  Trent had a sour feeling in his gut. Gee Dub was not only his beloved Ruth’s older brother, he had been Trent’s best friend for years. The war had changed them both, but Trent was overcome by a sinking suspicion that it had changed Gee Dub out of all recognition. He asked again. “What did you do, Gee?”

  Gee Dub dropped his hand and turned his head enough to regard Trent with one eye. His expression had hardened. “I punched him in the face.”

  Ruth looked as though she wanted to cry. “Did you kill him?”

  “He was plenty alive when I left. It took me a while to figure out where Holly had gone, but I finally spotted her in that restaurant on the main street.”

  Ruth sighed with relief. If her brother said it was so, then it was so.

  Trent felt his shoulders relax, as well. Gee Dub had never been a liar. But he said, “Gee Dub, this looks bad.”

  Gee Dub gave him a dry smile. “You reckon?”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The waitress at the Westlake Restaurant was only too happy to tell Scott everything she knew about the crying woman and tall man who had sat at this very table on the day Harvey Stump was killed. The woman introduced herself as Joan M
cNamara, proprietress, as round and brown and fragrant as one of her loaves of fresh bread.

  Once Scott had explained his mission to her, Joan called a younger woman—her daughter, judging by the look of her—from the kitchen to take over service. Joan took a chair between the lawman and the dark-haired woman with the flushed face and unhappy expression, who nodded at her but said nothing.

  “Do you think those young folks had something to do with Harvey Stump’s murder?” Joan’s eyes were wide with speculation.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” Scott said.

  Scott kept his tone and manner as discreet as possible while he questioned Joan, though he was pretty certain that everything he said would be common knowledge around Council Hill within minutes after he and Alafair left town. He wasn’t too bothered by that fact. Once the gossip mill spread the word, anyone who thought he knew anything about the death of Harvey Stump/Dan Johnson would eagerly come forward.

  The story Joan told fit in well with the tale that Holly had related to Scott. Joan didn’t know the name of the woman who had come into the cafe that day, but she was very small and thin, with hair the color of dark honey. She had wept like her heart was broken. She told Joan that someone she loved once had died. Alafair made a surprised noise when the waitress said that, and Scott shot her a stern glance before nodding at Joan to continue.

  “The little gal wanted to know about the next train to Boynton, but the last one that day had already been through. She didn’t want to wait for the morning one, though. I didn’t ask what she aimed to do with herself and she didn’t say. She said she could eat something, and by the time I brought it out, this young fellow was sitting in that chair there, right next to her. She had started crying again so I figured he was bothering her. But she said he was a friend. He was a nice-looking youngster. They sat here together and grazed on this and that and talked for, oh, about an hour. Then they left together. He was on a chestnut mare and she rode astride behind his saddle. I didn’t see which way they went after that.”