by Donis Casey
Rose shrugged. “Well, I didn’t actually do the deed. You know, when Scott come out here to question me about Avey, I figured he suspected me because Avey’s throat was cut. It was me who stabbed Star Karsten when she sold my girl. I did my best to take care of my baby girl but Karsten sold her off to a rich man when she was twelve and I ain’t seen her since. And Avey is the one who pulled her out of my arms and locked me in my room while a stranger drove away with her. I didn’t kill him, but he got killed because I said his name to the one who did. I wanted him dead and dead he is.”
“Why haven’t you told Scott who killed him?”
“Because he’d never believe me and there’s nothing he could do about it if he did. Most people don’t believe a true thing even when they see it with their own eyes. But I recognized the evil one right off. He found me on the street in Dallas, after my daddy tossed me out when I got in the family way. He kept me until my baby was born, then sold us to Karsten. That’s the last time I saw him until the other night.”
Alafair restrained herself from grabbing the woman by the shoulders and shaking her. “Well, who is it, for the love of Jesus?”
Rose’s cheeks reddened and she leaned forward. “He’s changed a hell of a lot. But I when I first saw standing out in front of the house, looking at me, I recognized the eyes. He come by here that night, but never did come in the house. After I closed, he sneaked up behind me in the yard. ‘Give me a name,’ he said. And I did. I figured he owed me my vengeance. When Scott told me what happened to Avey, I knew it was because of me.”
Alafair was listening to this with her hand pressed to her forehead, torn between disbelief and horror. “Are you saying that you asked somebody to kill Win Avey and he did it?”
“Not somebody. Old Nick.”
“Who?” Alafair said, just before the penny dropped. “The devil? You’re saying that the devil is loose in Boynton and is hurting folks because you asked him to?”
“I don’t have nothing to do with the whatever is going on over to the brick plant. But I sicced him on Avey, for sure. I wasn’t headed for heaven anyway, but now there’s a special room for me in the other place.”
Alafair had no idea what to say. She scrambled for an intelligent response and decided that direct was best. “You’re right, Miz Lovelock. No one will believe that the devil killed Win Avey because you wished it on him. So I reckon that even if it is true, you’d better make the best peace with it you can and get out of town while the gettin’ is good.”
“I aim to take that advice.” Rose gestured toward the back door for the young peeper to come out. The girl was very pretty and very young. She glanced shyly at Alafair as Dave followed her out and handed her up onto the wagon seat, then climbed up beside her. The girl’s eyes were so innocent. Alafair couldn’t help but wonder who she was and how she had ended up sweeping floors in a bawdy house. She drew a breath to speak but Rose cut her off.
“Goodbye forever, Miz Tucker.”
Alafair clapped her mouth shut and turned to walk back to her buggy when it occurred to her that she hadn’t asked the most obvious question. “Miz Lovelock, what does the devil look like?”
Rose stepped up onto the wagon and settled herself beside the silent Lucy before she answered. “Not such a much. You’d hardly notice him, but for his thousand-yard stare and his bowler hat.”
***
No one was home at Eric Bent’s place, so Alafair left the stew in the straw-lined crate on the porch. After that, she sat in the buggy for a long time, thinking about what Rose Lovelock had said to her and trying to decide whether to tell Scott about it. Could Rose have actually spoken to the killer? Or was it all an hallucination brought on by her own grief and rage? Considering that Rose had named Satan himself as the murderer, Alafair was inclined to believe the latter. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to Scott to know she was acquainted with Rose Lovelock. She determined to stop by Sally’s on the way home as ask her advice.
She still had food to deliver before she could think of anything else. She took a bushel basket of produce to Mrs. Schneberg, who had lost most of her garden to the vandals, and then headed downtown to deliver a pail of fried chicken to the Khouris, The market was closed, so she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door to their apartment. Aram Khouri opened the door and gave her a slightly relieved smile when he recognized her.
There was a lot of activity going on in the parlor, behind him. Ana and the children were packing up.
“Oh, no,” Alafair said, instead of a greeting. “Not you, too! Y’all ain’t leaving, are you?”
Khouri invited her in. “No, just sending Ana and the children back to Chicago for a while. My father and I will stay on and get the store reopened when we can.” Ana took Alafair’s offering, then ushered her to the one seat in the parlor that wasn’t covered with clothing. Grandfather Khouri greeted her with a giant grin and cleared an armchair so he could take a seat next to her. Ana served glasses of a delicious, minty, hot tea and plates stacked high with treats from the huge collection of cakes and sweets the family had been showered with over the past few days. Alafair was glad to see that at least some people in the community had responded to the Khouris’ troubles with kindness.
After Ana had served everyone and shooed the children out of the parlor to finish their packing, she joined Alafair on the settee.
“I’m so sorry you feel you must leave,” Alafair said to her. “I’ll miss you, and I’m sure my girls with miss their playmates.”
“I hope we won’t be gone long,” Ana replied. “Boynton is our home now.”
“I think my son is too cautious,” Grandfather said. “There will be no more trouble now, I think.”
Before Alafair could ask why he thought so, Aram Khouri said, “Did you hear that Billy Claude Walker was found murdered this morning?”
Alafair nearly choked on her tea. “No! Gracious me. What happened?.”
“He died the same way as Win Avey. Throat cut. His friend found him in his room at Mrs. Worley’s boardinghouse.”
“Oh, this is terrible.”
Grandfather Khouri gave a derisive “Hah!” He didn’t look at all sorry about Billy Claude Walker’s demise. Ana was embarrassed. “Papa thinks Mr. Walker was behind the damage to the store.”
“He was,” Grandfather assured her. “And I am not sorry. I curse him. I prayed for vengeance and vengeance was done.”
Khouri and his wife admonished the old man, but Alafair’s skin began to prickle. She put her tea glass on the table and sat back. “I heard the strangest thing this very morning about what happened to Win Avey. I was talking to…someone…who said that the devil came to her and she wished aloud to him that Mr. Avey would die. And then he did. She’s convinced that her evil wish caused his death.”
Ana crossed herself, horrified. “My mother told me that there are dark forces on the earth. She saw curses come to pass many times in the old country.”
“I believe there are things that can’t be explained,” Alafair admitted. “But I have my doubts that this woman conjured the devil. She said that her devil had on a bowler hat, which last I heard was not part of Satan’s wardrobe.”
Ana shook her head. “The devil comes in many guises…” she began, but Grandfather Khouri burst into laughter and she swallowed her sentence.
Khouri gaped at his father. “Papa, two men are dead. Why do you laugh?”
The old man wiped his eyes and tamped his mustache with his napkin. “I know this man. This bowler hat man. After the store is wrecked, he comes to me on the sidewalk. ‘I can help you,’ he says. I will not let happen to my children such things as I endured in Turkey. And now all my people there are being killed and made to lose everything. Find who did this, I say to the man. Do not let such a thing happen here. And Walker has been punished. Righteous punishment is from God. No, this man in the hat is not the devil, my children
. He is a man.”
Chapter Fifty-seven
“Watch your neighbor. If he is not doing everything in his power to help the nation in this crisis, see that he is reported to the authorities.”
—Tulsa Daily World
After he punched his time card and hung up his hat in the changing room, Henry flopped down on the bench next to Charlie. “How you doing, young’un?”
“All right, I reckon.”
“I hear your sister had some trouble out at her place. I’m sorry to hear it.”
Charlie couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry too. Mary don’t deserve it, that’s for sure.”
Henry flung an arm over Charlie’s shoulder. “Well, I sure don’t hold it against your brother-in-law that he was born in Germany, and anybody that does is a dang jackass.”
The way that Henry spat out the word “jackass” made Charlie smile. “I agree with you. Kurt can’t help where he was born.”
“Nor can any of us,” Henry agreed. “Well, anyhow, I just want you to know that not everybody thinks like Billy Claude Walker and his gang.”
“I appreciate that.” Charlie studied Henry out of the corner of his eye for a moment as they chewed their sandwiches. Henry might be a decade older than Charlie, but he had always treated Charlie like a friend. “Say, Henry, I’ve been mulling over the what has been going on here at the plant over the past weeks.”
Henry didn’t look at him. “Have you, now?”
“Somebody is trying to sabotage production.”
“Some folks think so.”
“I’m one of them. Mr. Ober thinks so, too, considering how he’s added armed men to the night watch.”
“Do you have some notion of who might be behind it all?”
Charlie bit his lip. He trusted Henry, but did he dare? “Promise you won’t tell a soul?”
The blue eyes widened. “Well, now, I don’t know about that, especially if you’re about to tell me it’s you. I don’t want to be thrown in the clink as an accessory to treason.”
It took Charlie a moment to realize he was being teased. “No, it ain’t me.” He hesitated, and took a breath. “Have you heard about my uncle who is visiting out to our farm?”
The corners of Henry’s mouth lifted. “The rabble-rousing Wobblie? Yeah, I heard.”
So much for keeping Robin’s socialist leanings a secret. Charlie cast a glance around. “Listen, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that to yourself, in case there’s somebody in all of Boynton who ain’t heard it. Anyway, my uncle just came to Boynton to visit with my ma for a spell, and he’s swore on a stack of Bibles that he’s not here to cause trouble.”
“Don’t worry, young’un. I don’t care what your uncle’s philosophy is and don’t intend to spread the word. Every man to his own affairs, I say.”
“Good. Thanks. I don’t agree with my uncle, but I like him a lot. The thing is I saw him talking to old Dutch Leonard who got let go from the plant for getting into it with Billy Claude Walker at the Liberty Sing. If Dutch is an anti-war unionist, he might be the type to engage in sabotage. Maybe killing, too.”
Charlie’s reasoning intrigued Henry. “You suspect your uncle is involved?
“No, no. Lord, I hope not. But Robin might have given old Dutch some ideas without knowing how far he’d go.”
“Have you asked your uncle what him and Leonard were talking about? Have you told anybody what you saw?”
Charlie shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Uncle Robin is getting ready to leave, anyway. But what if it is Dutch Leonard? And what if somebody saw him and Robin talking and figured they’re in it together? I don’t want anybody to go off half-cocked and decide my whole family is involved.”
“Why are you telling me this, Charlie? What do you want me to do about it? I’m not confronting Dutch Leonard, that’s for sure.”
“I ain’t asking you to. No, I’m thinking that if I could get a handle on who the saboteur is, then my uncle and my whole family would be off the hook. And I got a strong feeling it’s Dutch Leonard.”
Henry huffed and leaned back on the bench. “You know, Charlie, even if Dutch was the one who was messing with the machinery, he could have been doing it while he was on the job. And if it is him, how are we going to know when and where he’ll strike next? This is a big area to keep an eye on.”
“I don’t know for sure. But listen, you know how there’s a couple carloads of bricks sitting on the side rail, ready to ship out to Fort Bliss day after tomorrow? Well, I’m thinking that it would be a fine opportunity for an outlaw to do something to keep that shipment from leaving out.”
Henry thought it over for a moment. “Sounds like you’d make a good saboteur yourself, if you ever decide to change professions. So what are we going to do to stop this from happening? When we see Dutch sidling up to the rail car with a stick of dynamite, shall we jump out and throttle him?”
“I ain’t got that far yet. There are two of us and one of him, though.”
“What if he’s armed? Besides, I’m not much of a brawler.”
“Well, maybe it’s enough if we catch him in the act. If we holler loud enough, a few of them armed guards will come a’running before Dutch can do any damage.”
“You think he’s going to sneak back in the dead of night now that Mr. Ober has hired all these bulls to patrol around at night? How can you can catch him if the law and all the king’s men can’t?”
Henry had more counter-arguments than Charlie had arguments, but the boy was not dissuaded. “I’ve got to try. I got a Red in the family and a German, too. If I can help catch this traitor then nobody is going to question where the Tuckers’ loyalties lie.”
An expression of surprised sympathy passed over Henry’s face and was gone. He leaned forward and draped his forearms over his knees. “I suspect you have a plan.”
The fact that Henry hadn’t laughed at him or dismissed his fears out of hand gave Charlie a surge of confidence. “Well, I been thinking about it, Henry. Dutch is not going to try and walk right in the front gate. But he worked here a long time. He knows how to get around without being seen. And I’ve seen him, real early in the morning, creeping around the clay hill behind the plant and entering at a place where a section of the fence has fallen down. I went and had a look at it myself the other day.”
Henry considered this for a moment. “All right, say you’re right. What do you propose we do about it?’
“Let’s set a watch on that gap in the fence tonight. With all the guards wandering around, Dutch will have to sneak into the plant. And he knows to use that gap to slip in unseen.”
Henry smiled and looked away, but didn’t try to come up with another objection. He could see that Charlie was going to attempt this clandestine surveillance, no matter what he said. He shook his head. “All right, young’un. I don’t know whether you’re smarter than everybody in town or just love to chase wild geese, but I’d hate to see you get your head stove in. I’ll watch with you.”
Charlie bit his lip. “We may have to keep an eye on that gap for more than one night.”
“Well, I don’t know how long I’ll be up for nighttime skullduggery, Charlie. My delicate constitution flags without a good night’s sleep.”
Charlie’s face fell, and Henry chuckled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you until the shipment for Bliss goes out. That’s two nights. If nothing happens, will you give this up?”
“It’s a deal!”
Chapter Fifty-eight
“One Thousand Possemen Prepare to Round Up
Four Hundred Heavily Armed Rioters Near Sasakwa”
—Tulsa Daily World, August 4, 1917
Nick snatched his bowler off his head as he stood in front of the deputy’s desk. “Good afternoon,” he said. “Is the constable about?”
Trent cocked his head, curious. The nondescript man with t
he little white scar was a stranger to him, but he could swear there was something familiar about the eyes. “No, Mr. Tucker isn’t here right now. Is there something I can do to help you?”
Nick sat down. “I contemplated for days whether or not to come in and tell you about this, Deputy. I’m just passing through town and I don’t like getting mixed up in things that are none of my business. But I been thinking about it and I figure it’s my duty to let y’all know that I heard something the other night that you’ll want to look into. It sounded like treason to me.”
Trent blinked at him. “Well, then you’d better tell me what you heard.”
“It was at the Liberty Sing on Friday. That was quite the event, I must say. I applaud your sheriff for his peacekeeping abilities. Nothing gets rioters’ attention like blasting a hole in the ceiling. Anyway, I didn’t want to get caught up in the brawling, so I was heading back for my room when I passed by three fellows standing in the shadows at the back of the building with their heads together. I heard one of them say something about the Industrial Workers of the World, so I strolled by real casual and hid myself behind a bush around the corner so I could hear what they were talking about.”
Nick gave a self-depreciating smile. “I know it’s unseemly to eavesdrop, but I recognized one of them as the man who started the fracas. He had on this tall hat. You know, the one who told your CD man to shut up?”
Trent was interested, now. “Yes, I know who you mean.”
“I could hear them pretty well. The tall-hat one and his friend were making arrangements with the third man to go with them to meet with a bunch of draft-resisters. Seems that a mob of them are getting together to form an army and start an uprising. The young one plans to meet the third guy tomorrow morning out behind the Masonic Hall and lead him to the place where the rebels are camped. Someplace called Sasakwa.”
So it was true. Trent could hardly keep from dashing out the door to find Scott. “Did they say what time they’re meeting?”
“Early. I heard them say around dawn.”