Crayons and Angels

by Rita Kano

  Arlene, who had been left to search the house a second time for Lizzie and her doll, stood pale and limp, looking like a ragdoll herself. “I can’t find them. I’ve looked everywhere. In all the closets. Under all the beds. Lizzie’s not here. Abigail’s not here. Lizzie…” Arlene fainted.

  Joe plopped to the floor and lifted Arlene into his arms, rocking her back and forth and pressing kisses against her forehead.

  Nash dialed Sheriff Pate’s house.

  “Yel-lo,” the answer came.

  “Sheriff! Sheriff Pate, you gotta get out here quick. Lizzie’s missing.”

  “Lizzie? Lizzie who? Who’s missing?” The sheriff’s questions mixed with puffs on a cigar and the sound of ice tinkling in a glass.

  “It’s Nash Britt, Sheriff. My granddaughter, Lizzie Lovett, has gone missing, since just before dark… my granddaughter, Lizzie. Her mama sent her over to my place to stay the night and she never made it. Her mama, Arlene… she collapsed and Joe can’t do nothing but mutter and shake his head. You gotta get out here quick. We need help. We need a search party.”

  “A search party? You been watching too much television, Mr. Britt. Ain’t nobody going to search the woods and swamps in the dark. Even blood hounds got enough sense to stay out of there after the sundown.” Slurred syllables dragged the Sheriff’s words one into the other.

  “Then forget the search party. It’s your job to do something. Get out here. Me and Joe ain’t going to sit around fiddling our thumbs until morning while Lizzie’s out there in… out there somewhere.”

  “Reckon I don’t need nobody telling me what my job is, Mr. Britt. Happens I got guests. It’s my wife’s birthday. Besides, I can’t do nothing you and Joe can’t do. You just ain’t looked in the right place. Children these days got a mind of their own. She’ll turn up. Call me in the morning. Not too early though. I’ll be sleeping late. Hey Sue!” Sheriff Pate shouted. “You ain’t gonna believe…”

  Click.

  “What’d he say?” Arlene asked between tears and sniffles. “Is Sheriff Pate on his way?”

  “The sheriff hung up,” answered Nash. “Said to call him in the morning.”

  When Arlene wailed Lizzie’s name, Sue Bell, who had been peering around the corner from the hallway, ran and jumped into her Grandpa Nash’s arms. “Grandpa! Grandpa! Why’s mama crying? Where’s Lizzie? Is she in the jar, too?”

  “There … there, sweet baby.” Nash stroked Sue Bell’s straight black hair. “Lizzie’s just hiding somewhere. You know how much she likes hiding-n-seeking. Our sweet Lizzie’s playing a game, that’s all. She’s fine. She’s just fine. She’ll be back in no time. You know old Grandpa wouldn’t lie to you. Don’t you?”

  Tadpole nodded and snuggled against her Grandpa’s chest.

  “Uh, Joe,” said Nash, “maybe Tadpole should spend the night with me.”

  “No!” screamed Arlene. “No. No. Give her to me. Give my baby to me. It’s you. It’s you and that Foster witch that’s got something to do with this. I know it. I know it.” Arlene pulled Sue Bell from Nash’s arms. Her lips quivered. “Things ain’t felt right ever since she started snooping around here. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I’m going to find out. I don’t want you here. Get out of my house. Get out.”

  “Joe?” said Nash. “Ain’t we…” Nash glanced at his little Tadpole. Her eyes reflected the struggle of innocence and helplessness. “Don’t we have more to do?”

  “You’d best be going, Nash. Like Arlene says. I’ll call Sheriff Pate in the morning. Besides, maybe the sheriff’s right. What are we going to do that we ain’t done already? In the dark and all.”

  Arlene burst into tears again, holding on tight to Sue Bell, who stretched out her arms for her Grandpa as he walked out the door.

  Nash raced back home and called Shirley.

  “It’s done,” he said, still panting as she answered.

  “And you called Sheriff Pate?” she asked.

  “That too. The sheriff ain’t coming out. He was already down to the bottom of the bottle. Today’s his wife’s birthday, again. She must be 200 plus by now. Said there was nothing he could do tonight and call him in the morning.”

  “Great. That’s perfect. Can’t say he’s not dependable. And he will get a call tomorrow, only it won’t be the one he’s expecting.”

  “Shirley… hadn’t you ought to tell me more about what you’ve got planned?”

  “I think it’ll be better if you don’t know any more than you already do, Nash. Your surprise reactions could be a big help in pulling this off. But since you’ve… you know, since there’s so much riding on this, if you feel you have to know I’ll tell you.”

  “No. No. I’ll do what you think best. Whatever you think is best.”

  “Thanks for trusting me, Nash. It means a lot to me.”

  “Just might mean more to me. How’s Lizzie?”

  “She and Grandma are playing with Abigail. Lizzie’s such a beautiful child. Such an angel.”

  “I know,” said Nash. The lump in his throat rattled his words. “Don’t think my heart could beat without that child.”

  “There’s not going to be any reason for it not too. I promise you.”

  “Shirley… Shirley, I…” Nash’s voice splintered. “I…”

  “You don’t need to say any more, Nash. Just get a good night’s sleep. Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to change tomorrow.” Shirley’s words of comfort sang sure and dependable, like a mother’s lullaby.

  Chapter 17

  Sheriff Pate’s Suspicions

  10:05 am Friday Morning

  “Hello,” the gravelly voice sounded muffled… by bedcovers, most likely.

  “Sheriff Pate?”

  “You dialed it. Who else would it be? Call back in an hour or so… more so than anything else. I’m not out of bed yet.”

  Click.

  The phone rang again. Once. “What?” the sheriff answered.

  “Sheriff Pate, this is Shirley Foster. You need to wake up now. Splash water on your face or whatever it takes. This is an emergency.”

  “It’s always an emergency, Miss… Miss who?”

  “Foster. Shirley Foster.”

  “Okay, Miss Foster, what is it?” The sheriff yawned. “Can’t get your cat out of a tree. You’re daddy’s prize hound dog is missing? I told you to call back later.”

  “I’m not calling back,” Shirley snapped. “Climb into your pants or I’ll be standing on your doorstep in ten minutes.”

  “Who is this?” asked Sheriff Pate.

  “I told you. Shirley Foster. You know me, Sheriff Pate. I work with County Social Services.”

  “Foster? Oh yeah, Miss Shirley Foster… that Miss Foster. Yeah, I remember you. I sure do. You been asking all around town about that Lovett girl. What’s her name…?”

  “Martha Ann,” said Shirley. “The missing girl is Martha Ann Lovett.”

  “Well, Miss Foster, I’m real glad you called because I’ve been wanting to tell you that Lovett girl ain’t none of your business. You asking around don’t do nothing but get people stirred up over nonsense. People don’t like nosy biddy bodies. That girl will drag herself back to her grandpa’s when the fun’s over or the money’s run out. Is that all you called me about?”

  “No,” replied Shirley, “this is about Lizzie Lovett, Martha Ann’s cousin. Lizzie’s been kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped… Hog wash. I talked to her grandpa last night. I suspect she got whipped for something brats like her surely deserve and is just hiding somewhere pouting. She’s just another one of those red-headed spitfires the Lovett’s keep popping out. Besides, the Lovett’s ain’t called me back. The kid’s probably showed up by now.”

  “She hasn’t shown up, Sheriff. I called Nash Britt before I called you to be sure the call I got wasn’t a prank.”

  “What call?” asked the sheriff.

  “A call from the people who took her… the kidnappers.”
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br />   “Kidnappers? And why…” Sheriff Pate drawled, “oh, this has got to be good… if the girl has been kidnapped, why would the people who took her call you, Miss Foster, and not the Lovett’s, Nash Britt, or… hey… me?”

  “Because they know my reputation, Sheriff Pate. At least, that’s what they told me.”

  “Your reputation…” he huffed, “as compared to mine? As compared to mine…” he repeated. “That’s a message worth nothing… a day in and day out total of people’s two cents worth. Complain. Complain. Complain. It’s always the laws’ fault when they don’t get what they want. So, my question is… what exactly does that mean to you?”

  “You’re a smart man, Sheriff. They want something and they know if anyone can get it… it’s me.”

  “I don’t care much for that smart ass tone in your voice, Miss Foster.”

  “If you’re hearing a tone, Sheriff Pate, perhaps you should ask yourself why?”

  “There ain’t anything for me to ask except where you’re going with this, Miss high and mighty. And it’d better be good. What is it these so-called kidnapper callers want? It can’t be money. There ain’t none to be had from the Lovett family or Nash Britt. Or… or are they holdin’ out for a smoked ham?” Sheriff Pate chuckled.

  “They want a story placed in the Purity Post in Sunday morning’s paper… a front page headline.”

  “A story… They want a story? Listen young lady, this better not be another one of your busy body shenanigans. Oh yes… I’ve heard all about you and your ways. So, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m giving you a deal I won’t be offering again. Hang up now, right now, and I’ll just forget everything you’ve said. Keep it up and… mark my word… keep on in the direction you’re going and I promise you won’t do nothing that I won’t know about. If your shadows there… I’ll be there. Do you hear me?”

  “Clear as a flashing red siren, Sheriff. And this is what I’m saying. The kidnappers will be calling me back within the next three hours with more instructions. In the meantime, you need to get up with Dish Townsend and tell him to get ready to print a story.”

  “Well, don’t you beat all? You’re treading on thin ice, Miss Foster. I surely don’t like the snippety tone you’re taking with me. And trust me, I ain’t somebody you can game play.”

  “I assure you, this is no game. You do what the kidnappers ask or I’ll have no choice, as a Social Worker for the County of Robeson, to take this matter to higher levels. Either the kidnappers get what they want or you get what you don’t want… your name spread all over the front pages of newspapers from here to Raleigh. And it could get worse. Who knows how high misconduct like this can go. You just might be covering your face from the cameras of every scandal sniffing reporter from here to Washington. D.C.”

  “Hold on! Whoa now. You listen to me, Miss Foster…”

  “No. You listen to me, Sheriff. There will not be another Lovett girl turning up dead or missing because I turn my back to my conscience. You’re right about me. The whole town’s right about me. I know things lots of people don’t know. I know Purity’s got skeletons in its closet. Who knows how many are stuck to that badge you wear? So, tell me, Mr. Pate, how many bones you want rattled in the face of scandal hungry reporters. Are you willing to have Purity’s dirt dug up and rubbed all over its whitewashed lies? Tell me now, Sheriff. I will not turn my back on the demands of kidnappers and you will not turn your back on me.”

  “You… why you… you listen to me… you…”

  “I’m listening, Sheriff Pate.”

  “Gat damn! Get the story. Get the damn story. I’ll call Dish Townsend. It’ll be in Sunday’s paper… front page.”

  “Can you promise me that?”

  “Dish Townsend does what I tell him to do. Get the story. If that Lovett girl’s been kidnapped, I’ll do everything I can to get her back. If she hasn’t… if this is some kind of… just know this… I’ll be dealing with you personally. I promise you that, Miss Shirley Foster Social Worker for the County of Robeson. Mark my word!”

  “Is that how you roll over Purity’s voters, Sheriff? With bullying and threats? Well, you can mark my word. You get Lizzie back or no one will be calling you Sheriff after the voting year rolls over you, Mr. Pate, maybe even before that.”

  Shirley hung up the phone. A long, puffing sigh followed. Now, all she had to do was hope the story she came up with would shake the foundation of Purity, NC so hard all its secrets would be dumped out smack dab in the middle of downtown Main Street.

  For the next 45 minutes, Shirley watched Lizzie play with her doll and Grandma.

  “Lizzie?”

  Lizzie looked up from her games. “What is it, Miss Shirley?”

  “Sweetheart, I’m wondering if you’d be okay with being left here alone for a little while. No longer than an hour, probably less. Will that be okay?”

  “If you ain’t going no place I’d want to go,” answered Lizzie. “Like the ice cream parlor. I’m having a whole lot of fun here with Grandma.”

  “I’m not going any place fun, sugar. You’ll be okay, then? You’re sure?”

  “I’m a whole lot bigger than I look, Miss Shirley. I go places by myself all the time. More places than anybody even knows.”

  Shirley knelt down beside Lizzie. “Okay, big girl, but promise me you’ll stay inside the whole time I’m away. Don’t go outside for anything. Okay? And if anyone comes to the door, don’t answer it. Will you do that for me?”

  “I’ll stay inside,” said Lizzie. “But, hurry back anyway. Okay, Miss Shirley?”

  “I promise.”

  As Shirley opened the door to leave, Lizzie plopped down in the lounge chair facing the television set. “I’m going to watch TV. Is that okay?”

  “Sure, you can,” said Shirley. “Do you know how to work it?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Lizzie. “And… and can I call mama and daddy and tell them what a good time I’m having with you at your house?”

  Shirley closed the door and walked over to the phone. “Of course you can. I’ll dial it for you. What’s the number?”

  “375-2572.”

  “Calling you parents was a real good idea.” Shirley dialed, “375…”

  “2572,” finished Lizzie.

  Shirley pretended to listen for a moment and then hung up the phone. “There’s no answer, sweetheart.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll call them later,” said Lizzie.

  “You know what,” said Shirley. “I think I have an even better idea. I think you should wait until I get back. We’ll have more fun things to tell your mama and daddy. I was thinking about us having a little party with ice cream and chocolate cake. I can buy some on the way back home. Is that a great idea? What do you think?”

  “Yeah.” Lizzie bounced in the chair. “Yeah, that’s a real good idea. I like chocolate everything… chocolate cake, chocolate icing and chocolate ice cream. Is that okay with you? Mama says chocolate makes me jumpy.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I won’t be away very long. You’ll hardly have time to miss me.”

  Lizzie waved bye and smacked a kiss across the room. “Bye, Miss Shirley. I love you.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, Shirley stood in the County Office Building handing Sheriff Pate a contrived story for the Purity Post. He leaned back in his rickety, creaky chair and looked at her with prolonged and pronounced suspicion before opening the folded paper and reading it.

  “Are you out of your mind?” He shook the notebook page in front of her face. “There ain’t no way this nonsense will be in the Post… not Sunday or any other day for that matter. No way. Forget it.” He crumbled the paper and tossed it into the waste can pushed against his desk.

  “Get it out,” demanded Shirley.

  “Do you see this?” Sheriff Pate pressed one finger against his badge.

  “I see it.” Shirley placed both hands down on the sheriff’s desk and leaned over. “But I’m absolutely certain, you don’t.”


  Sheriff Pate put one hand on the handle of the gun in his holster. “I’ve been sheriff of this town for twenty-seven years.” He leaned over the desk as close as he could get to Shirley’s face. “No one tells me what to do or what I see or don’t see. I do my job the way the people of Purity needs it to be done. That’s why I’m here and why I’m going to stay.”

  The Sheriff’s threat hung in the air with intensity designed to force Shirley to step down and back.

  Shirley’s plan didn’t allow for wide turns or defeat. She stared back. “You will pull that story out of your waste basket and it will be in Sunday’s paper or the rest of your life will be trash, Sheriff Pate. My reputation is not only well founded; it has depths into which I have never been forced to reach. I will not allow you to throw another child’s life away to secure your position in this town.”

  “My position… my job…” Sheriff Pate’s chair squawked as he pushed his weight back, “my duty is to protect the people of Purity. If I have to throw one life away here and there to do it,” he clenched his teeth and flexed his jaw muscles, “I will.”

  “Just so we’re perfectly clear…” red curls dangled at Shirley’s temples, “you don’t intend to do anything about the disappearance of Lizzie Lovett, do you?”

  “I do not,” stated the sheriff.

  “And the skeletons in your closet…”

  “You’re overlooking an important detail, Miss Foster… a fact that secures my position as sheriff here in the town of Purity. Those skeletons are in a community closet. And the community wants it kept closed.”

  The round of Shirley’s eyes narrowed to a slit. “I see.”

  “I hope you do, Miss Foster. I sincerely hope you do.”

  Shirley glanced at the waste basket where the crumpled paper lay on top of an empty potato chip bag and half a dozen Pepsi cans. “Then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”

  She brushed desk dust from her hands and walked toward the office door. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob and she looked back over her left shoulder. “Have a nice day, Sheriff.” A smile melted over Shirley Foster’s face, smooth as a slice of American cheese.