Adam was seated at his desk, feet up and newspaper in hand, when Hick entered the station. “Any luck with the preacher?”
Hick hung his hat on the coat rack and shook his head. “He didn’t remember Abner. Unfortunately, Abner’s story is all too common.”
“I was afraid of that,” Adam studied Hick a moment. “You see any sign of Brewster?”
Hick shook his head. “I don’t reckon he shows up on that side of town unless it’s to serve a warrant.”
“That’s just what I’d expect from that bastard. Speaking of bastards …” He picked the paper back up and asked, “What the hell are we going to do about Murphy”
In spite of his calm appearance, Hick sensed the rage seething below Adam’s controlled exterior.
“What can we do?” Before Hick made it to his desk, the station door burst open and the formidable presence of the Reverend Ted Wheeler filled the room.
With arms folded across his chest and a face seemingly carved from cold stone, Wheeler stared at the two men.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“As a citizen of this town, I demand to know what you are doing to apprehend those two murderers.”
Hick lowered himself into his chair, and fought to keep his voice controlled, measured. “Who do you mean?”
The reverend strode across the room and slammed his fist down on Hick’s desk. With menace in his narrowed eyes, he growled. “Don’t play games with me. Gladys Kestrel was like family to you. Look how she cared for your father, and this is how you repay her? By letting her killers walk away scot free? Shame on you!”
Hick rose and looked Wheeler in the eye. “Let’s get one thing straight, right now. Eben and Jed Delaney are not ‘murderers’ in any sense of the word. They may have been convicted already in Murphy’s rag and in your mind, but they are innocent until proven otherwise. And furthermore, don’t you tell me who to arrest or how to do my job. I don’t want to hear any of your ‘sins of the father’ bullshit, and I don’t want you spreading your hate through town. We’ve got Murphy to do that, we don’t need two of you.”
Reverend Wheeler’s eyes widened and his mouth tightened. “How dare you? Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“I’m talking to a man who ought to be preaching love, but who chooses to preach hate. That’s normally not my business. Not unless it starts disturbing the town or interfering with an ongoing investigation.”
The Reverend’s eyes glimmered. “And if it does?”
“Murder ain’t the only thing can get a man locked up.”
“Are you threatening me?” Wheeler’s voice was low.
“Advising you.”
“I see.”
“Don’t you have a sermon you ought to be preachin’ somewhere?” Adam said.
Wheeler’s face contorted with fury as he spun toward Adam who now had his newspaper rolled up in his hands as if he were going to swat a fly. “Oh, I’ve got a sermon alright.” Wheeler spat the words. “I’ve got a sermon and it’s not about God’s love. God is a God of vengeance as well.” He walked back to the door, shoulders straight and head high as if he were in a military parade. He turned and cast a wrathful eye upon Hick and Adam. “I should have known better than to think anything would be accomplished by my coming here. It appears going out after those boys might be more work than you’re accustomed to.” He looked pointedly at Adam’s feet on his desk before turning to leave.
“He’s gonna be a problem,” Adam said nonchalantly after the door slammed.
“He is a problem,” Hick corrected. “Everyone knows Murphy’s full of shit, but people will start believin’ Wheeler. We’ve got to find those boys, fast. Where could they have gotten to?”
“They could be anyplace there’s work to be found,” Adam replied. “They could be in Illinois or Michigan. Hell, they could be all the way out to California.”
“I reckon I’ll need to find out if Miss Delaney’s had any word.”
“Let’s hope she has. Them disappearing like this only adds fuel to Wheeler’s fire.”
“Wheeler,” Hick repeated. “Wheeler and Murphy, they’re like kings of their own little kingdoms with no idea of what goes on in the world outside of their realm. They think they have all the answers. Hell, Jed and Eben have never even been in trouble. Not once.”
“Neither had Abner,” Adam reminded Hick. “And, yet, he was convicted of first degree murder.”
“I’m not buying it,” Hick responded. “What possible motive would those boys have had to kill Gladys.”
Adam looked at the stacks of letters they had brought from Gladys’ room. “Maybe something in here will give us an idea.” He opened one and began scanning it.
Hick settled back onto his chair and examined Abner Delaney’s letters. “Or something in here,” he said, opening the next envelope on the stack..
The clock ticked as Hick read letter after letter from Pinewood Prison, each like the other. Abner worried over his family’s welfare, while doing nothing to save himself. There was never any suggestion that Abner thought of filing an appeal. Just a constant stream of hopes for a better future for his children.
Hick ran his hand through his hair in frustration. His thoughts swirled and in his mind, he saw Gladys’s torn face and the earnest expressions of Jed and Eben. He saw Pearl Delaney’s haunted eyes and the wistful longing of Mourning. He played every scenario over and over in his head and none of them pointed to the Delaney brothers as possible killers. And yet, they were the ones who had stumbled upon Gladys’s body, they were the ones who lost a father in prison for a killing in which Gladys seemed to have taken an interest, and they were the ones everyone in town suspected. Anger welled up again as he thought of the hatred and vengeance Wayne Murphy and Ted Wheeler were stirring up.
He scooted his chair back abruptly. “I need some air,” he muttered and walked outside. He paused in front of the station and flipped open his lighter, turning the thumbwheel, lighting the wick. He flipped the lid closed and popped it back open, repeating the motion, staring absentmindedly into the distance. He knew enough about the Pinewood Prison Farm to understand just how much information
Abner withheld from his family. He knew Abner would have been subjected to hours of grueling work in the hot sun, picking cotton, and would have likely been beaten. He knew prisoners were routinely tortured and not fed properly. He knew of the brutality of the prison trustees, hardened criminals given authority to exercise justice, or vengeance, without impunity. He lit a cigarette and took a long draw letting the smoke slowly seep out his nostrils. “Why wouldn’t Abner fight to get away from there?”
“Uncle Hick!” a voice shouted, cutting through Hick’s thoughts. He turned to see Benji, Adam’s oldest son, and Jack Thompson walking with the two Shelley girls.
“What are ya’ll up to?” Hick asked, tossing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it.
“You remember Lucille and Edna?” Benji asked. Benji, a smaller version of Adam, was tall for his age and looked to be the same age as Lucille Shelley, although in reality he was only eleven and Lucille, fourteen.
“I remember them when they were little girls. I don’t recognize them now,” Hick replied with a smile.
“Miss Pam says we’re to entertain them,” Jack announced. Jack Thompson was one of Adam and Pam’s foster sons.
“Is that a fact?” Hick said, putting his lighter in his pocket. “What do ya’ll have planned?”
“We’re going to the diner for a Coke,” Benji replied importantly.
“Daddy had to go back to work,” Edna piped. The youngest Shelley girl was small like her mother with two blonde Shirley Temple pigtails.
“My daddy was a principal, too,” Hick said. “I remember him working all summer long while us kids had time to play.”
“Mama begged him to let us stay a little longer so we could do some visiting. We’re staying at your old house,” Lucille told him. She was slender with her father’s good looks
and her mother’s expressive eyes.
“Good,” Hick told her. “My mama likes company.”
Benji cleared his throat. “Uncle Hick, we’re kinda getting thirsty.”
Hick nodded and said, “Ya’ll have fun. Don’t throw your Coke bottles in the ditch.”
“We won’t,” Benji called as they ran down the street, their laughter a stark contrast to the pall that hung over the town. It was more than the usual Sunday quiet. It was a wariness, sprung from the knowledge that one of their most beloved citizens had been brutally murdered. The usual sounds seemed hushed and shrouded in the awe that a tragic and premature death creates.
Hick was ten years old when Susie Wheeler was murdered. It seemed funny that he did not remember the event. He did not remember if his parents talked about it—they must have—or what was written in the paper. But he remembered the feeling, this feeling, that something terrible had happened and nobody could explain it or make it right. He and Tobe had been running down the street, shouting at the top of their lungs when the door to the post office opened and Mrs. Benson, Maggie’s mother, had stepped out. She caught the boys by their arms and whispered kindly to them, “Don’t shout so boys. Today is a day of respect.”
The awful silence. That was the only thing he remembered about Susie Wheeler’s death and the only thing he remembered four months later when Ronnie Pringle died. It was as if the town had been collectively punched in the gut. But Ronnie died in June and by July Hick, Tobe, and the rest of the boys were back at the ball field. Death’s bony fingers released the town but stayed wrapped around the throats of those it hurt the most.
The door to the station opened and Adam stepped out. “Got a call from Miss Barnes. She says she spied Eben Delaney in the cotton patch. I’m goin’ to head out there and try and calm her down.”
“Can you stop by the Delaneys and find out if Miss Delaney’s got any word?”
Adam nodded and strode to the squad car.
“If anything turns up, come on out to the house. I reckon Tobe will be passed out by eight o’clock anyway,” Hick called after him.
Hick’s prediction had been pretty accurate. Tobe had arrived tipsy and the five beers he drank at dinner had mellowed him to the point that he fell asleep on the porch swing before the lightning bugs began to flicker. As Tobe snored, Hick, Maggie, and Fay enjoyed strawberry shortcake and coffee.
“Maggie, this is delicious.” Fay licked her spoon and dug in for another bite. “The strawberries in St. Louis don’t have the tartness ours do. They taste old.”
Hick motioned outside toward the porch swing. “He getting by okay at work?”
Fay nodded. “They like him a lot. He’s a good worker, and the foreman says he might get promoted to the paint department. Painting cars pays better than putting in windshields.”
“How’s Bobby like his school?” Maggie asked.
“He likes it and is doing well.” Fay set her plate down and sipped her coffee. “He’s got a nice group of boys he plays with. I mean it ain’t like here where we had nature and the swamp and Jenny Slough. He’s got alleys and amusement parks and swimming pools.”
“I miss that slough,” Hick said. “Fishing the levees and ditches ain’t the same. There’s no mystery, no cypress trees. It’s hot and sunny and dull.”
“It was a shame they dammed it up,” Fay agreed. “I remember growing up out there and how mysterious the world seemed. We had our own cast of characters, that’s for sure. We had the threat of the spooky eephus to make us behave and Miss Delaney’s potions to keep us healthy.”
The name of Pearl Delaney brought up unwanted associations with work and Hick pointedly put them out of his mind.
“And Johnny,” he added.
“Oh, Coal Oil Johnny! Whatever happened to him?”
“He and Patsy the Mule just disappeared when they dammed the slough. No one’s seen hide nor hair since.”
A loud snort and groan from the porch reminded them of Tobe’s presence. Fay shook her head. “It’s a shame Miss
Delaney don’t have a potion for that.”
“What kind of potions did Miss Delaney give you?” Maggie asked.
“Well, if you ask me they weren’t anything but coal oil with a little molasses. You town kids had Doc Prescott to doctor you up. We had Miss Delaney’s snake oil. She could cure everything from the croup to malaria.”
“I think I’d rather have malaria.” Maggie shuddered.
“Bless her heart, but Miss Delaney sure tried to help people out. They were good people. No one who knew him ever believed Abner done that to Susie Wheeler. Most thought it was her fellow, Ronnie.”
A slow ache took hold at the base of Hick’s skull. He wanted to forget about work, not discuss it over dessert. Maggie glanced over at him, then quickly turned the conversation to the latest gossip around town. Hick took advantage of the moment to step out onto the porch and light a cigarette. Tobe snorted once again and opened his eyes.
He straightened up and patted the swing. “Hey Hick,” he said with a slur. “Have a seat, buddy.”
Hick settled in and offered his friend a cigarette.
Tobe shook his head. “One vice is about all I can afford.”
Hick took a long draw feeling the comforting smoke warm his lungs. He exhaled and the two men sat silently on the porch swing, the sounds of frogs and crickets filling the air around them.
“How’s St. Louis treating you?” Hick finally asked.
“Shit, it’s hotter than hell in that factory and the houses are on top of each other. Still, there’s a good tavern at the end of the street and they let Bobby run me home a bucket of beer a couple of times a night on the weekends.” He shrugged. “I got beer, work, baseball, and Fay. And Bobby. I guess it’s alright.”
Hick leaned back against the swing, took another deep drag, and peered off into the darkened distance.
“What about you?” Tobe asked. “You doin’ okay?”
Hick shrugged. “Yeah. Mag works her ass off around here, and it feels like I’m never around.”
“Ya’ll should come on up some weekend,” Tobe urged. “Come to a Cardinals game at Sportsman’s. I take Bobby up there some Sundays and we watch Slaughter and Musial and Schoendeist. It’s the next best thing to playin’.”
“That’d be nice. Maybe when Jimmy’s older.”
They sat in silence listening to the swing creak and the night gather around them. “Listen, Hick,” Tobe said finally, “if you and Maggie ever decide to get out of this place, I can get you on at Fisher or if not there, Chevrolet is hiring. Union wages, good benefits. You wouldn’t have to put up with the shit you put up with here.”
Surprised, Hick turned to look at Tobe. “I’m—”
“I know what goes on here and how this place treats you.” He leaned forward and looked into Hick’s face. “Don’t let them suffocate you. You ever need me, you know I got your back. Think about this, in the city I’m just another factory worker. Nobody knows who I am … or what I’ve done.” The old sadness was there, a weight Tobe just couldn’t set aside. Hick saw it and Tobe knew he saw it. But neither man wanted to grapple with it, so Tobe quickly reached into the cooler for another beer and offered Hick one. Hick didn’t say no, so Tobe opened them both, took a drink from his, and sank back onto the swing. “It’s good to be anonymous.” There was unmistakable relief in his voice. “You ever get tired of it all, you just give me a call. Life is good in the city.”
9
“The Methodists are riled up this morning,”
Adam commented as he slid into the booth across from Hick. The diner was packed for a Monday morning, and there had been more than a few angry glances Hick’s way.
Hick stuffed the United Auto Workers pamphlet Tobe had given him in his shirt pocket and took a drink of coffee. “Sounds like Wheeler gave it to ’em good yesterday. ‘Vengeance is mine’ and all that.”
“He’s gonna be a problem,” Adam said for what Hick thought might be the hund
redth time.
Hick nodded, signaling the waitress for a refill. After Tobe and Fay left the house, he had worked the night shift and now felt bleary-eyed and exhausted after several sleepless nights.
The door to the diner opened and Elizabeth Shelley approached their booth. “May I join you?”
Adam slid over and made room for her.
“How’s my mama doin’ today?” Hick asked Elizabeth.
“She’s so sweet takin’ us in. I sure appreciate her putting us up for a few days,” Elizabeth said as Shirley Daniels came by, filled her coffee cup, and set down a new container of cream and a bowl of sugar. “George needed to get back to work, but the girls wanted to stay and visit with some of their friends. They like Tennessee all right, but this still feels like home.”
“I know Mama enjoys the company.”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but your little boy is adorable.” Elizabeth poured cream and sugar in her coffee and stirred it absently. “I can scarcely believe you’re married with a child. I remember you as a kid who was always in trouble and now you’ve got your own baby and you’re the sheriff.”
Hick blushed. “I do my best to stay away from trouble now.”
The door to the diner clanged open and Wayne Murphy walked in. He paused at the booth and sneered, “I see you boys are working hard again.”
Elizabeth Shelley’s eyes narrowed. “Your piece this morning on hogs was inspired, Wayne. They seem to be a subject you really understand.”
“Ha ha,” he answered before positioning himself at a booth in the back of the diner, a convenient place to study everything around him.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I suppose it’s not always easy being sheriff. I read in the paper that Jed and Eben Delaney are actually suspects now. I can hardly believe it.”
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