Ralph leaned forward and took a chocolate donut, while staring intently at Geraldine.
There was more tension in the room than I understood. Geraldine and Ralph apparently were acquaintances, but certainly not old friends. However, the dark mood was broken when John Aho walked through the door, whistling a lilting tune. “I think I can stay about thirty minutes, so if there’s important business to conduct, maybe we could get right to it,” he said. “I’ve got Marie watching the till, but she can’t do any repairs.” He was blond and bony, with a cheerful grin, and wore the dark blue uniform of an automobile service man, and it was well-spotted with grease. He chose a pink donut and filled a styrofoam cup with coffee, black. His hands were fairly clean, but the odor of industrial degreaser wafted through the room.
“Excellent!” Adele said, glad of an easy transition to business. She wrote something in her notebook.
We jumped right into a discussion of the needs of the Leonards. Geraldine was the certified literacy tutor, and she reported meeting once with Corliss. She didn’t call him Len. She indicated that he did have severe dyslexia, and rambled on a bit too long about the details of his disability, but it gave us all a chance to nibble donuts and sip our coffee. Adele asked her opinion of the likelihood of Len’s success. At this, Geraldine said he was motivated, and she had high hopes if he stuck with the program. Then I was in the spotlight a bit more than I was prepared for, but I had seen much more of the family than any other committee member. I explained how close I had become to the girls because of the dog, and told some stories of our time together. When I mentioned his name, Paddy thumped his tail against the table legs.
“And Angelica’s body was found on your property?” Ralph asked. This was the first time I’d been directly asked about the location.
“Not exactly. I’ve been told by the detective not to give out details.”
“The rumor is that the dog actually found the burial site,” Geraldine said. It wasn’t a question, but she was clearly prying for more information.
“People will talk,” I replied evasively.
“I don’t understand why the body would have shown up now, if she was buried seven years ago,” Ralph said, sounding belligerent. “But the paper said it was definitely murder.”
“Did you see the body? Was there a gunshot wound?” added Geraldine, giving up any pretense of being subtle.
“Don’t be silly, Dini,” said Adele. “There was nothing left but a skeleton, according to the news.”
“But a skull could still have a bullet hole in it.”
I recalled overhearing Officer Brown mention knife marks on the ribs, but I didn’t say anything.
“After all, how do they know it was murder?” asked Ralph. “The news article was very sketchy.”
“Can we get back on track?” John put in, looking at his watch.
“Yes, indeed,” added Adele. “Ana, based on your observations, do you have any suggestions of specific ways to help Len and the girls?”
“I do,” I said confidently, glad to take the focus off the murder. “I’ve learned that the girls were raised by Becky to enjoy fresh fruits and vegetables, to eat a healthy diet. But they can’t get to town to shop very often because Len finds it so difficult to drive. Their refrigerator is at least forty years old. I’m wondering if the church could buy them a new one, and make sure they get to a store once a week.
“Excellent suggestion,” said Geraldine. “I make a motion we do just that.”
“Second,” said John.
Adele called for discussion, but there was none. She followed with, “All in favor?”
We voted, Adele wrote in her notebook again, and just that easily the Leonards had a new appliance coming their way. John said he’d check on prices at several stores, and report back.
“Remember, they live in a trailer,” I noted. “It can’t be a side-by-side.”
One other item was on our agenda, but that service project consisted only of taking meals to a family where the mother was undergoing strong chemotherapy. Adele said the schedule was already covered for the next two weeks. We adjourned and John rushed for the door, having stayed well past his allotted half hour. I’d had no chance to talk to him at all.
Geraldine picked up her purse, put an extra donut in a napkin, and left quickly, while Adele began clearing up the trash. Ralph approached me. I already didn’t care for his manner, and now he moved close to me. Either he was near-sighted, or didn’t have a good sense of other people’s personal space.
“I suppose you know quite a bit about what happened between Angelica and DuWayne, since you’ve gotten so close to the family,” he said.
I took a step backwards, and he moved right into the space, again standing too near me.
“I’m not sure I do,” I said. “I’m not even sure it’s any of my business. I’ve become very fond of Star and Sunny, but I’m only interested in information about Angelica and DuWayne if it will make me more able to help the girls now.”
“Frank and DuWayne were good friends in high school. We’re not racist.” He straightened importantly. “But DuWayne went off on the wrong track. Frank and I tried to tell him to shape up, or he’d end up in jail. Then he took up playing house with Angie, and started acting as if he were too good for us!”
Apparently, Ralph planned to fill me in whether I was interested or not. Adele closed the kitchen door behind her and interjected, “All set?”
Ralph ignored her and pointed a finger at my nose. I couldn’t understand why he was being so forceful with me. “Those kids are DuWayne’s blood. Be careful you don’t get burned.”
Now I understood. Despite his words to the contrary, Ralph was apparently more interested in warning us about involvement with the girls than in really helping them. Paddy stood and was growling softly. Adele had also heard the important parts of his monologue.
“Really, Ralph! Is that why you wanted to be on this committee? Go home and take your prejudice with you. We’ll get by just fine with only four members.” She grabbed him by the arm and turned toward the outer door.
Ralph glared at her and shook himself free. “I’ll leave, but you mark my words, there’s nothing but trouble ahead for that family, no matter what you do. Hammer Bridge Town does not spawn winners.”
He stalked out the door. Adele looked at me and rolled her eyes. “I should have known,” she said with a sigh. “Here, I pride myself on knowing what’s going on, but I was so eager to have another warm body on the committee that I didn’t catch on.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I said, sympathetically.
“I’ll walk you out.” She picked up her notebook.
“OK.” I released Paddy’s leash from the table leg, and he stretched and smiled up at us. At least he was exempt from the problems of human prejudice. We exited, and Adele locked the outer door while I took Paddy to the tall grass behind the asphalt parking lot. When we converged at my car she paused.
“Did you notice Dennis Milford at the service?”
“The detective? Sure. He was keeping a close eye on everyone. I don’t blame him. They say killers often show up at the funerals of their victims.”
“Probably, but he was watching you a lot of the time.”
“Me?” I was incredulous. “I didn’t even know Angelica.”
“Oh, Ana. You can be so dense. I think he likes you.”
“What are you talking about? That’s crazy. He treats me like a block of wood. Well, maybe as if I’m a little brighter than that, more like... a... a... cow!”
Adele was looking sly. “Of course he’s acting that way. A man like that can’t let on that he’s impressed, and attracted to you.”
This was really too brazen, even for Adele, who liked to play matchmaker. “I don’t believe a word of what you are saying. I don’t even want to believe it. The man has nothing on his mind but business, and he’s really gruff about that.”
“I’m just saying... “
“I don’t w
ant to hear any more silly ideas like this. The man was doing his job, that’s all.”
“Whatever you say. I need to get back to the store. Actually, I am able to stay away longer than I used to. Justin’s working out so well I’ve made him a manager, and hired another cashier. Justin is even thinking about switching his major to business. But I hate to leave him more than a couple of hours.”
“I won’t keep you, then. Actually I need to go to Emily City.” I really wanted to get away from Adele and her wild ideas. I opened my car door, and Paddy jumped in.
“Wait,” Adele implored, sensing my desire to leave immediately. “You do need to know something, but I didn’t want to tell everyone. You know how nosy people are.”
I tried not to smile. Adele was nosiest of them all, but she hadn’t needed to ask any prying questions at the meeting. Everyone else had done that, and she had only kept her ears open. “What’s that?”
“Did you see Frank yesterday?”
“Is he the heavy man who was with Ralph?”
“That’s the one.” She glanced around as if suddenly worried that someone might hear, but the parking lot was empty except for the two of us. I was more worried that someone had overheard her wild speculations about Detective Milford. “Such a shame. He used to be the picture of fitness, but he came home with PTSD, and he’s never been the same.”
“From the Army?”
“Yes, Iraq.” She shook her head sadly.
“I saw him, but I didn’t meet him.”
“He couldn’t get away from Ralph for even a minute. But when they left, he slipped me a note.” She placed a piece of paper in my hand.
I opened it and read silently, “Larry Louama was released from prison last week.” I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing. I wasn’t sure how this was important to me.
Adele had more to tell me. “They only sent him away for robbery and assault, but there’s not much doubt that he killed J. Everett Bailey.”
“Who’s that?”
“He owned the Sleep Lodge in Emily City. He walked in on a drug deal going down in one of his rooms and ended up dead.”
“And you think Larry did it?
“Everyone knows he did, but no one could ever prove it. He’s slick as a snake.”
“Why is this important to me?” I asked, doubting her accusation which she didn’t back up with anything resembling a fact.
“My money’s on him as Angelica’s killer.”
Chapter 23
All of Adele’s crazy ideas swirled around in my head as I drove to Emily City, but I was too annoyed to sort it all out. Paddy was getting accustomed to staying at Fur and Fins, and once again I dropped him off to play while I looked for a place to get an inexpensive cell phone. I grabbed a burger and fries at a fast-food drive-thru and cruised the small strip malls until I found a wireless phone store.
After an interminable wait with six people ahead of me, a young, acne-scarred man asked if he could help. He tried to sell me several fancy “mobile devices,” as he called them, but I finally convinced him I only wanted to make an occasional phone call while away from my house. This caused him to downgrade his sales pitch to something smaller, but I was determined to buy a phone and not a portable computer. Eventually, I had my way, and left with a basic flip phone, activated for a limited number of monthly minutes at a reasonable fee.
My frustration quota for the day was about maxed out. Having Family Friends infiltrated by a racist, hearing Adele’s improbable assertions, eating junk food for lunch, and being pressured to buy something I didn’t want had taken a toll. To be honest, I was seething inside, and nearly forgot to pick up the dog at the pet store.
But Paddy wagged his whole body, not just his tail, when he was brought in from the play yard, as if I were his favorite person in the whole world. He thrust his nose into my hand, and when I knelt down to pet him he insisted on trying to lick my face, despite my protestations, until I was laughing out loud. Somehow he knew my efforts to push his long face away from mine were only half serious, and in a few minutes I was sitting flat on the floor, leaning against a pallet of dog food bags, with a wet face, half-crying from my released emotions and gulping with the effort to stop. The sales assistant had walked away and left me several minutes previously. Now, he returned with a woman who appeared to be a manager.
“Ma’am, is there something wrong?” she asked.
“No, no. There was, but I think it’s just been fixed,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance.”
“No problem. Dogs can be a great comfort, can’t they?” She smiled.
“They certainly can,” I assured her.
Paddy woofed in subdued agreement, and we left the pet store in much better spirits.
I decided I wasn’t going to let circumstances keep me from talking to John Aho any longer. With Adele claiming Larry Louama was an unpunished killer, now on the loose, I wanted to find out about his attack on John. Even though it had happened long ago, I wanted to know why John hadn’t pressed charges.
Aho’s Service Station was located on the south edge of Cherry Hill, and was the type of place one rarely finds any more. It had not morphed into a convenience store but really serviced cars, in addition to selling gas and oil. The parking area was small and was crammed with vehicles apparently waiting repairs. A two-bay garage beside the cashier’s office was dark with the grease of several decades. The office wasn’t much cleaner, but the exterior of the building had been painted white with blue trim, and someone, perhaps John’s wife, Marie, had filled blue tubs with bright purple petunias beneath the windows.
I didn’t see anyone, even though the doors were all open, but followed the sound of sharp blows on metal, and a bright flare of light from a drop cord. In this way, I easily located John, peering up into the undercarriage of a car which was raised on a hoist. He craned his neck toward me.
“Ana,” he said. “What can I do for you?” He set a hammer down on a bench covered with grease-encrusted tools and wiped his hands on a pink rag. He quipped, “I can adjust any bolt as soon as I find the right size hammer.”
His grin was infectious, and I smiled. “Do you have a minute?” I asked. “I see you’re busy. It’s not about a car problem,” I added.
“There are always cars to be fixed, but life’s more than broken vehicles. Let’s talk out here in the light.” He stepped out into the sunshine, blinked and leaned his rump against the low brick ledge that created a sort of exterior chair rail around the building.
I’d been thinking about how to approach this subject, since I wasn’t sure it was common knowledge that Larry Louama was out of prison. I began, “I’ve been trying to understand DuWayne Jefferson better. He’s been upsetting Star and Sunny all week, and I can’t decide if it’s good or bad that he sees them.”
“Bad,” said John in a flat voice.
“Well, I sometimes think so too, but he is their father, and they naturally would like to have a relationship.”
John shrugged.
I continued, “The person I really want to ask you about is Larry Louama. I understand that he and DuWayne were good friends.”
“There’s a train wreck waiting to happen.”
“How’s that?”
“Those two were in school together at Emily City High. Larry quit, but DuWayne finished, at least. He played football.”
“Emily City? I thought the Louamas lived here in Cherry Hill.”
“They do, but Larry got kicked out of school here, and his parents rented in a room with someone in Emily City, and enrolled him over there. Didn’t do any good. The boy had no use for education. He quit the day he turned sixteen.”
“So Larry was always in trouble?”
“Since he was in grade school. And anyone he associated with couldn’t help but be involved too.”
“I heard he came after you with a tire iron.”
“Yup.” John paused and shifted his weight. “You manage to hear a lot for a newco
mer. That’s pretty old news.”
“I’m not trying to pry. I did start asking about Angelica, just to be able to talk to the girls without putting my foot in my mouth.” I grinned. “And people tell me all kinds of things.”
“That’s probably true enough.”
“So, do you want to tell me about it?”
“There’s not much to tell. We used to have a pop machine back then, and a candy counter. Larry walked over here one evening, looking to buy a can of pop, but the machine was out of order. I think he must have been high on something because he went berserk.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“I was working on some car, Jerry Caulfield’s actually, as I recall.”
“You remember that?” I was astonished.
“I do, but you’ll know why in a minute.”
“Oh, sorry. Go ahead.”
“So, Larry started kicking the pop machine and cussing me out something fierce. I went out to see what was going on. There was a tire iron balanced on this ledge, right over there,” he pointed to the continuation of the ridge he was leaning on, “and he grabbed it up and started swinging. Broke the front of the pop machine.”
“Were you here alone?”
“Of course. Never had much use for hired help. Anyway, I reached back inside here to lay hands on something myself. I got a hold of a crowbar and we faced off. His eyes were crazy-like.”
“How big is Larry?”
“Big enough. He wasn’t full-grown then, but was about my size, and wiry-tough. And on drugs. At first, he decided not to take me on, but he began to smash windows and anything he could reach. I was really worried he was going to dent Caulfield’s Cadillac.”
“Did he?”
“Nope, I got between him and the garage door, and then he aimed for my head, but I’ve been around the block a time or two. Done a little martial arts in my day. He took one big swing, but I just put that crowbar in the right place and when the tire iron connected with it there was a big ‘twang,’ and Larry let out one huge yelp. The tire iron went flying.” John had ducked his head, and now looked up at me shyly, clearly proud of a story he hadn’t had a chance to tell in a long time. “And his hands stung so bad he couldn’t pick up the baseball cap that had fallen off his head. He ran off and left it behind. He was just a kid then. I probably wouldn’t fare so well against him anymore.”
Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp Page 11