She stared ahead and refused to meet his glance. “Nobody cared when my innocent man was kilt in jail. Nobody questioned the fool lawyer who was so drunk he could hardly stand at the trial. Nobody questioned the girl’s daddy or the girl’s feller ’cause they all had money and standin’. Nobody’s gonna care when my boys get dragged to trial for somethin’ they didn’t do and when they get kilt nobody’s gonna care. Nobody … but me. And nobody cares about me.”
Hick sighed. She was right and there was no way he could deny it. He rose. “I’ll do my best by your boys,” he promised. “I got cause to bring ’em in and I got to do it. But I’ll do my best to be sure to bring ’em home if they’re innocent.”
Hick rose and turned to leave only to be met by the wide stare of Mourning and the scowl of Job. He walked outside, the bright sunshine stabbing his eyes as he made his way to the squad car.
“Sheriff,” a voice called. Hick turned to see Mourning running toward him, her bare feet flying over the dust.
She approached with a handful of grimy envelopes. She held them up. “Here. Ma wants you to look at these.”
“What are they?”
“They’s letters and notes sent to us from the prison. Ma don’t even know what they say ’cause we never had none could read ’em to us, and Ma was too ashamed to ast anybody. Says maybe you can look at ’em and tell us what they say.”
Hick took the stack of envelopes and noticed the neat handwriting. “Who wrote these?”
“They’s a man at the prison who tried to help Pa. He wrote us them letters.”
“Who?”
“Mourning? Get in here!” called Job from the house.
“Don’t know,” she answered and added, with embarrassment, “I reckon he thought one of us could read or he wouldn’t have bothered.”
“Mourning!”
She glanced at the house and then turned back to Hick. “I sure enough would like to know what Pa said,” she said with a wistful note in her voice. It might comfort Ma some, too.” Then she quickly turned and ran back inside.
6
“There’s nothing unusual in them going to pick strawberries this time of year,” Adam said after Hick filled him in on the details of his conversation with Pearl and explained where the Delaney brothers were. “But damn, it sure looks bad right now. People are gonna jump to conclusions.”
“People have already jumped to conclusions.” Hick looked wearily at the pile of work on his desk. In spite of the fact that the clock on the wall said two, it seemed the day had been endlessly long and there was a daunting amount of work yet to do. Hick, Adam, and Wash stood in front of a large table and looked at the box of files from the school and the trunk from Gladys’s room, along with the Doc’s report and various other pieces of potential evidence that needed investigating. The amount of letters and paperwork that had to be reviewed reminded Hick of a tangled mess of fishing line. It was snarled and twisted and caught on something deep, but he felt that at the bottom of it all lurked something important that needed to be carefully unwound. “What did Gladys get herself into?” Hick shook his head. What was she doing in secret that could have incited someone to such violence?
Lighting a cigarette, he looked at Adam. “So what about the money? What did the judge say?”
“He says it’ll take the Central Bank in Memphis a few days to track everything down after they get the subpoena. It’s been there a long time and fifteen thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
“Holy Christ!” Wash looked up, eyes wide. “I didn’t think there were any secrets in this town.” While Adam had been going through the letters Gladys had received from former students, Wash had had his nose buried in the student files. “Fifteen thousand … my, my …”
Hick looked at the grimy stack of envelopes that Mourning Delaney had handed him. Why had Abner’s story interested Gladys enough to be removed from the scrapbook? There was no way in hell the Delaneys had given Gladys five thousand dollars. What possible connection could there be? Hick sat the cigarette in the plastic ashtray, rested his elbows on the desk, and opened the oldest letter in the stack. The paper was wrinkled and creased and he could almost physically feel the yearning of Pearl and Mourning Delaney as they held Abner’s words but could never grasp their meaning.
Dear Ma,
I am settled here at Pinewood and it is not as bad as we had feared.
“Pinewood not bad?” Hick repeated to himself. He knew better. Pinewood Prison Farm was notorious for allowing prisoner “trustees” to guard other prisoners. It was a place of torture and brutality.
This letter is being written by a Catholic preacher who works at the prison. He has been very kind to me. I hope you can find someone to read this to you so you will know I am thinking of you and the young’uns. I hope you are resting up so you will have an easy time when the baby comes. I hope to write again soon. As long as I know you and the baby are safe at home I can stand anything.
Your husband,
Abner
Hick shook his head. Abner never knew his wife had been carrying twins. They were born shortly before his execution and he never received the information.
In the midst of the letters, Hick found one that caught his eye. It was a note written to Pearl Delaney from the “Catholic preacher” himself. It read:
Dear Mrs. Delaney,
Please do not think me forward in writing to you without Abner’s knowing. I am concerned because your husband has flatly refused to file an appeal of his conviction. Without one, I fear his execution will take place before all the facts of the case can be investigated thoroughly. After speaking with him and getting to know him here, I feel he has a very good chance of winning an appeal. It is clear there was gross misconduct, not only on the part of the investigation but also in his defense at the trial. For my part, I believe that Abner Delaney is an innocent man and, therefore, am writing to beg you to come to the prison to convince him to do this. His life is at stake. Without this attempt, his death is imminent.
Yours truly,
Reverend Jefferson D. Grant
Hick dropped the letter and stared, sickened by the idea that Pearl Delaney never knew she could have helped her husband save his life. But why wouldn’t Abner attempt an appeal? Was he guilty, completely disillusioned with the judicial system, or was there something more? The words “gross misconduct” and “investigation” stared at him from the page, stark in their implications. What did Sheriff Michaels do that caused this man to allege “gross misconduct?” As he pondered this question, the door to the station opened and Wayne Murphy sauntered in.
“I see you boys are hard at work apprehending Gladys’s killers,” Murphy said with a smirk.
The remark was met with silence, but Murphy was undeterred. “I don’t reckon it matters to ya’ll whether them Delaneys kill a couple more good citizens. It looks like your reading is more important than actually getting up and catching them.” He sat on the edge of Adam’s desk and leaned over trying to see what Adam was reading. “I’ve been watching from across the street and you ain’t moved in over an hour. Gladys has been dead two whole days and in that time not one of you has had the gumption to go out and bring those boys in. You hoping maybe if you wait long enough the town’ll do your dirty work for you?”
Again, silence. “You know,” Murphy said, crossing the room and standing in front of Hick’s desk, “I really worry about those Delaney boys, I truly do. Reverend Wheeler told his deacons yesterday if ya’ll didn’t hurry and lock ’em up, the church might just need to form their own posse. He says he knows how it feels to have someone you love taken away by a Delaney, and he doesn’t want to see anybody else hurt. And don’t think the town don’t know they’s still out there. Mizz Scott says they tried to steal her chickens and I hear the Ewells seen ’em in their garden. They say they’s been skulking down along the ditches, hiding out.” Murphy smiled, showing his new gold tooth. “Maybe I oughta just print all this in the paper. You could read it there since r
eadin’ seems to be about all you’re willin’ to do.”
His statements were again met with silence. Wash slapped a file folder down and picked up another one. He leaned back and propped his booted feet up on the desk, completely ignoring Murphy’s presence.
Murphy frowned, but went on, “Yep, I understand the good Reverend is fixin’ to have a church meetin’ to discuss self-defense. He’s been preaching about how we got to protect our families from the likes of them.” He knitted his eyebrows together. “Hmmm. Ya’ll are as silent as a tomb today. Maybe you done brought them boys in or maybe they’s gone, just like Wheeler said they’d be.” A light went on his eyes. “Hellfire, you done let them murderers fly the coop, didn’t you?”
Murphy’s words were irritating, like the constant drone of a mosquito in Hick’s ear. He felt his forehead grow hot and anger blurred the paper before him. “Don’t look up, don’t look up” he kept repeating to himself. Wayne Murphy knew exactly how to get to him, but he could not let himself take the bait.
Adam rose from his desk and stretched, yawning loudly. “I could use a break. You want to head over to the diner for some coffee?”
Hick smiled to himself. Murphy could get under his skin, but Adam was seldom bothered by anything. He stacked the letters and opened the drawer of his desk, putting them away. Looking up he said, “Why if it isn’t Wayne Murphy. Is there anything we can help you with?”
Wayne harrumphed with exasperation. “You can help me by running those little bastards in so I can talk to ’em. I got papers to sell and not a lot to put in ’em. I’ll put your picture on the cover, and we can find out why they decided to go bad. What do you say?”
“I’m sorry,” Hick said. “Who exactly are we talking about?”
Murphy’s face flushed with frustration. “Dammit, why are you always giving me the cold shoulder? Don’t you know I can help you?”
Hick stood. “When I need your help, that’ll be the day I resign.”
The newspaperman’s face creased in a wide smile. His new tooth gleamed. “I’ll be here to write it up, Sheriff. I guarantee that’s a story that will go above the fold.” He started for the door. “You fellas have a nice break. Sit back and drink your coffee and take your time while the rest of the town frets and fumes.”
The door closed behind him, and Hick exhaled loudly. “That son of a bitch drives me nuts.”
Adam was unconcerned. “You can’t let him get to you.” He turned to Wash. “You comin’?”
Wash ran his hand over his head and looked at the box of student records. “I’m thinkin’ about clockin’ out early and going on home to the Missus.” The older man’s face was tired and had an unsettled look.
“You go on,” Hick said. “This’ll still be here tomorrow.”
Wash nodded. “I was afraid of that,” he said with a wry smile. “Them files don’t make for easy reading.”
Hick and Adam left Wash behind and crossed the street to the diner. They took their regular seats, noting the scowls on several of the customer’s faces.
“Dammit,” Adam muttered. “Between Murphy and Wheeler we’re gonna have a riot on our hands.”
Shirley Daniels, the new waitress, came by to fill their coffee cups. She paused at the booth and cleared her throat. Hesitantly, she said, “Sheriff, I don’t mean to be a bother … it’s just … well, I get off late from here some nights and I gotta walk on home myself. Last few nights I seen someone in the shadows, out in back of the lot. I’m just a wondering … I mean …” She sat the coffee pot down on the table and bent toward the men, lowering her voice. “I mean, do you think it safe for me to walk home nights … with them Delaney boys running loose?”
Hick sighed. What was the world coming to? “Shirley, it might not hurt to have your daddy come get you at night … just until we figure this whole thing out.”
“You reckon you’ll arrest ’em soon?” she asked.
“If it’s the Delaney brothers you’re worried about, yes, I think we’ll be talkin’ to ’em pretty quick. Even if I locked them up, I still think you ought to have your daddy walk you home. For now.”
“You don’t think they did it?”
Hick shook his head. “I don’t know.”
She smiled a small smile. “Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll tell Daddy what you said.”
Adam took a large gulp of coffee. “Lived in this town all my life and never seen it so on edge. We’ve never locked our doors or worried about anything here.”
“Times are changin’,” Hick shook his head and stared into his cup.
“Well, what do you aim we do about all this?” Adam asked.
“We’re gonna have to call in an All Points Bulletin on the Delaney brothers, if for no other reason than to keep them safe. I really don’t think they killed Gladys, and I don’t think there’s much else they can tell us, but I’m afraid if they come back to town on their own things’ll get nasty.”
Adam nodded. “I’d hate to see ’em stroll into town unawares. Wayne Murphy’s gonna make sure people get whipped up into a frenzy. Give him something for page one.”
“Above the fold,” Hick added with a smile.
The door to the diner opened and several more people walked in, their faces unusually sober and cautious. Hick took a sip of coffee, still mulling over the phrase ‘gross misconduct’ from the Catholic preacher’s letter, and shook his head. “What do you think about what Pearl told me … about Wheeler and Ronnie Pringle never even being questioned. Does that seem right?”
“Not to my way of thinkin’,” Adam agreed. “Unless you have a confession, you keep asking—”
“And they didn’t,” Hick interrupted.
Adam sat his coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hick. “You know how it is … right or wrong, they would never have questioned the richest boy in town and a minister when there was Abner Delaney. It just wouldn’t happen … not fourteen years ago.”
Hick’s face colored and he shook his head. “Bastards.”
“I know how you feel, but remember who you’re talkin’ about. You’re talkin’ about Sheriff Michaels and you’re talkin’ about Wash. They’re good people, but they’re also human beings with inborn prejudices. When they see poor folks like the Delaneys, they see problems. To them it was only a matter of time before Abner Delaney done something wrong because that’s just what they expected from him.”
“Well it’s not fourteen years ago … it’s today. We can’t question Ronnie, but we can sure as hell question Wheeler.”
“What do you propose we question Wheeler about? We got nothing to ask.”
Hick sighed. “I don’t know, but something is just not adding up here. I want you to keep going through Gladys’s things. Either she was hiding something or she found something. Either way, there has to be some clue there. There’s no way in hell Gladys would have driven off with a stranger. Something she was doing in the last days of her life led to her killing. I’m going to find that preacher Mourning told us about. He said there were problems with Abner’s conviction, and he seemed to think Abner was innocent. If he’s right, whoever killed Susie Wheeler has been walking around a free man for fourteen years while Abner is cold in the ground and his family even worse off than before. If Gladys figured that out, it’d explain a lot.”
7
The Pinewood Prison Farm had a nasty reputation for corruption and brutality, and Hick was not surprised at the abrupt, uncooperative attitude of the clerk he reached on the phone. He had better luck at the Diocese of Little Rock and was able to find the whereabouts of the Catholic “preacher” who wrote Abner’s letters for him. Learning he was only an hour away in the small town of Broken Creek, Arkansas, Hick decided to pay him a visit. After calling in the All Points Bulletin on the Delaney brothers, he drove home to tell Maggie it would be a late night.
“You’re not going to the prison are you?” she asked from the doorway to their bedroom.
“No,” Hick answered tossing his old shirt into the hamp
er and pulling on a fresh one. “The preacher is in Broken Creek. I don’t have to drive all the way to Pinewood, and I’m glad. I don’t want to be anywhere near that place.”
A small furrow deepened between Maggie’s eyes and Hick knew she wasn’t satisfied. “Why do you have to go?”
Moving into the kitchen, he grabbed a thermos and filled it with coffee for the journey. “I don’t know what I think I’ll find, but none of this adds up. Why would the Delaney brothers kill Gladys, and what did Gladys have to do with any of this? This preacher thought Abner was innocent, and I want to know why. And if Abner was innocent, who the hell killed Susie Wheeler? I can’t help but think there might be a connection.” He glanced up. Maggie’s mouth was turned down in a frown as she unconsciously swayed back and forth, holding Jimmy tight. She wasn’t pouting, she wasn’t the kind. But something had her bothered. Hick crossed the room to her and ran the back of his index finger along the baby’s cheek. He held her gaze and saw concern.
“What is it Mag?”
She hesitated. “Broken Creek. Ain’t that where Earl Brewster is?”
“I won’t be seeing Brewster.” He stepped back to screw the lid on the thermos. “I don’t want to see Brewster.”
Earl Brewster, the sheriff of Broken Creek, Arkansas had been the key witness before the Federal Grand Jury in one of the first cases of Hick’s law enforcement career. The older man had relished criticizing Hick’s handling of the investigation. Brewster gloated after the case had been dismissed, but Hick felt his boasts were ill placed. No consideration was given to the fact that the dismissed perpetrators were Brewster’s first cousins. The family was also connected to the Attorney General who was running for governor at the time. In spite of these irregularities, the failure to prosecute the Smith brothers had shaped Hick’s first term as sheriff, largely due to the uncomplimentary and exaggerated reporting of Wayne Murphy. It remained a wound that wouldn’t heal. One that, in fact, always seemed about to break open and bleed again.
Behind Every Door Page 5