The Sky Took Him - An Alafair Tucker Mystery

by Donis Casey

  Alafair wondered idly why the burglars hadn’t just shot the dog rather than feed him something to put him to sleep or make him sick. That seemed like an awfully delicate and time-consuming course of action for outlaws. “I guess you call him ‘Muddy’ because he’s ugly as a mud fence.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s Pee Wee’s name for him. I didn’t want to, ’cause he can’t help it that he’s all bashed up. I wanted to call him Junior, but Pee Wee liked Muddy, and it just sort of stuck.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Don’t rightly know. He just showed up at the rig one day, looking like he does now, except all skinny and mangy. I expect he got run over by a wagon when he was a puppy, or some such. He’s a good old dog, though. Been a good watchdog and a pretty good rat-catcher, too.”

  The dog was walking so close to her that his ungainly trot kept knocking her off her stride. He was intent on his task, though, which Alafair expected was to escort her to wherever she was going. She smiled at the top of his distorted head. He was ugly, but he was a gentleman.

  When they reached the top of the rise, Zip stopped and turned to face the well. His arm swept the horizon from left to right. “You can see the whole site from here.”

  About a mile to the east, a forest of derricks marked the location of the Sinclair field. To the north, they could see the entire Crawford field, with its one solitary wooden derrick in the middle of the flat, prairie grass-covered plain, outlined against a pale sky. Since Pee Wee had not been able to carry out his blasting operation that morning and clear out the obstructed well, the drilling operation was suspended. At the moment, the twisters were drawing lengths of pipe and a damaged drill bit out of the hole. Next to the derrick, Alafair could see the engine house and part of the generator inside. Three or four roustabouts were working the machinery, one at the generator, a couple at the drill, and one off to the side doing some task involving a bucket. A large pool of what looked like mud stood some yards from the rig, along with piles of pipes and a stack of lumber, and a few small, rough outbuildings. Aside from the Sinclair derricks in the distance, the only other features for miles were the well-graded road from Enid to Garber, and the utility road on the property, if two parallel ruts running straight from the northern horizon could be called a road.

  “Quite an operation,” Alafair said to Zip. “It’s much bigger than I expected! From the way Olivia told it, I half expected it was just you and Mr. Nickolls.”

  Zip grinned, as proud as if it were all his own doing. “No, ma’am. Pee Wee, he don’t do nothing halfway. He expects that if you’re going to do a thing, you ought to do it right. We got but one well right now, but it’s a good’un.”

  “Looks like an expensive proposition,” Alafair observed.

  “I don’t know nothing about the finances, ma’am. That was Mr. Crawford’s lookout. Pee Wee, he just takes what money is give him and does what needs doing.”

  “I wonder what Mr. Nickolls expects to do for money now?”

  “I don’t know, Miz Tucker. I’ve been pondering on that myself. Pee Wee ain’t said nothing to me about it. He just keeps going on like he always done, like he don’t expect nothing to change.”

  Alafair considered this as Zip continued his tour of the field. Just what did Pee Wee expect would happen now? Would Olivia be able—or willing—to continue financing him? And even if she wanted to, her money might be tied up in probate for months or even years. And what about Lester’s will? Did he have the strength or the time to make changes now that Kenneth was no more, or was Olivia’s financial fate going to be in the hands of her uncle George Gunn after Lester passed?

  She was so involved with her thoughts that she was unaware of the vehicle that came to a stop a few yards up the hill until Zip spoke.

  “Yonder’s the sheriff,” he said.

  She turned to see an extremely tall, gangly, ruddy-faced man of about fifty unfold himself from an open Ford roadster with the words “Garfield County Sheriff’s Department” printed over a big yellow star on the door. He was dressed in a fedora hat and a dark, wrinkled, three-piece suit with a badge on the breast of the coat. A floppy brown mustache graced his upper lip, which reminded Alafair so forcefully of Shaw that she smiled, instantly disposed to like the man even before she met him. He was unarmed.

  Zip turned and walked toward him, and Alafair trailed behind. The sheriff stayed where he was, next to his automobile, and let them come to him. He folded his extra-long arms across his chest and eyed them with an expression that looked like annoyance, but his mouth twitched when he glanced down at Muddy, then back up at Zip. “Y’all the ones who called me?”

  Zip snatched off his hat. “I wired you from over to Breckinridge, Sheriff. I’m Zip Kolocek. I’m the boweevil for Mr. Nickolls, who runs this outfit. This here is Miz Tucker. She’s aunt to Miz Crawford. Miz Crawford owns the field, now, I reckon.” Zip turned toward Alafair. “Miz Tucker, meet Sheriff Hume.”

  “Glad to meet you, Mr. Hume.” Alafair extended her hand, and Hume took it. His hand was bony and calloused and squeezed hers briefly.

  “Ma’am.” One of Hume’s eyes narrowed as he assessed her, before addressing himself to Zip. “I hear y’all been burgled.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take you to Pee Wee. He can explain things better than me.”

  Zip led the way and Alafair fell in beside the sheriff as they walked down the hill toward the well.

  “Don’t believe we’ve met, Miz Tucker,” Hume said. “You from around here?”

  “No, me and my family have a farm over in Muskogee County, outside of Boynton. Olivia Crawford’s mother, Ruth Ann Yeager, is my sister. Me and my daughters just come up a couple of days ago to take our leave of Lester when all this bad business happened.” She didn’t bother explaining who Lester was or what the “bad business” consisted of. The Garfield County sheriff was based in Enid, the county seat. He would know all her leading citizens and Chief Burns would have fully apprised him about Kenneth’s suspicious death.

  Hume grunted, which she took to mean that he understood the situation.

  “Everybody seems to be of the opinion that Mr. Collins has something to do with the goings on of late,” Alafair ventured.

  Hume grunted again.

  “That’s why we’re here, me and my daughter and her friend, to help Mr. Nickolls search for some reason Mr. Collins might be interested in this field. My daughter knows all about books and numbers and such and offered to study the records in the office there. Then lo and behold, when we get out here this morning from Enid, we find that somebody had torn everything up looking for something.”

  She had hoped that volunteering information would encourage Sheriff Hume to reciprocate and tell her something she didn’t know, but Hume was not inclined to indulge her. He shot her a sidelong glance and kept silent.

  Alafair fell back a step or two when Pee Wee approached, and stood listening unabashedly as he told the sheriff what had happened. Hume’s eyebrows knit when Pee Wee told him about the missing nitroglycerin.

  “Well, I don’t like to hear that. And as far as you can tell, there ain’t anything else missing?”

  “As far as we can tell to now, Sheriff.”

  “So, you got any ideas about who done this?”

  “Well, seems my late partner, Kenneth Crawford, was in to Buck Collins for a bunch of dough, and the Widow Crawford has an idea that there was more to it than that.”

  “Like what?”

  Pee Wee shrugged. “Like maybe Crawford had something that Buck wants pretty bad. After what happened out here, I’m thinking she may have a point.”

  Hume flicked another glance at Alafair before he turned back to Pee Wee. “You got any proof to add to your opinion about Collins?”

  Pee Wee shrugged. “Not a shred.”

  “You leave everything like you found it?”

  “Well, no, we got everything back into order right smart.”

  Hume sighed his disapproval, but Pee Wee was un
moved. “We’ve got a business to run, Sheriff. I’ve still got men walking the property, looking for tracks, anything of the like.”

  “Find any?”

  “I ain’t heard of it yet if they have.”

  “And none of the crew heard or saw anything last night while all this demolition was going on?” Hume sounded skeptical.

  “It was Friday night, Sheriff, and the last night of the Founders’ Jubilee. Most of the boys hitched themselves up a wagon or two and rode in to Enid. Didn’t get back ’til the slim hours, and a couple of ‘em ain’t back yet.”

  “So nobody was at the field at all last night?”

  “There’s always somebody here. Usually me. But I had to go to Enid because of Crawford getting himself dead, so old Bull Heath volunteered to stay on the property. He went to bed near to eight o’clock, though, and didn’t hear anything. We got us a dog that’ll bark to beat the band at anything suspicious, but whoever wrecked the place tossed him a piece of bad meat, I reckon, ’cause he was mighty sick this morning.”

  Hume glanced down at the dog, who was still glued to Alafair’s side. “He looks to be all right now.” A twitch of his cheek betrayed the fact that he thought that ‘looks all right’ was a relative notion in Muddy’s case.

  “He either didn’t eat enough to hurt him, or the villain just meant to keep him out of the way for a spell rather than kill him.”

  “Maybe it was somebody Muddy knows.” Alafair blinked in surprise when Hume turned that sharp, speculative gaze on her again. She regretted that the comment had slipped out. She had not meant to draw attention to herself, lest the sheriff wonder why she was eavesdropping on their conversation and tell her to go.

  Hume turned his attention back to Pee Wee without saying anything to her. “I’ll be wanting to talk to this Bull Heath, and the rest of the crew, as well.”

  Pee Wee nodded. “Zip, go find Bull and fetch him yonder to the bunks. We’ll meet you there directly.”

  “Sure enough, Pee Wee.” Zip took off toward the derrick at a trot, and after a moment of indecision, Muddy abandoned Alafair and followed him. At a pretty good pace, she thought, considering that his front half and his back half were moving at different speeds.

  ***

  They arrived back in Enid on the afternoon train. They had left Lester’s Oldsmobile parked at the station that morning and McCoy drove them back to Ruth Ann’s house. It was a shorter trip across town today than it was yesterday, since the square was finally open to traffic again. The grandstand was almost down and most of the tents and rides were already gone, and the streets were full of horses, pedestrians, and automobiles once again. McCoy had to stop once on Randolph to let a streetcar go by.

  As soon as they arrived at the Yeager house, each went his or her own way. After Alafair found Grace playing with Olivia and Ron on the porch at the side of the house, she went upstairs to relieve Ruth Ann at Lester’s bedside. McCoy pulled the Yeagers’ car into the small wooden garage at the back of the property, retrieved his motorcycle, and left to go back to his office for a couple of hours.

  Martha took charge of her sister and sat down next to Olivia in a cushioned wicker chair on the porch, facing the garden. Little Ron was balancing on his mother’s lap, chuckling at the bear and dolly play that Grace was putting on for him, unaware and unconcerned that he had recently become fatherless. Olivia, on the other hand, looked pale and sleep deprived, with dark circles under her eyes that weren’t entirely camouflaged by her spectacles.

  “How are you doing?” Martha asked her.

  Olivia smiled and shrugged without taking her eyes off of Ron. “Oh, all right. I’ve kept too busy to think much. Mr. Henninger called ’round a while ago to tell me that Kenneth will be laid out tomorrow morning in one of the viewing rooms at his new funeral parlor. I expect I’ll be going over there first thing in the morning to see how he looks.” She glanced at Martha. “I’m dreading it.”

  “So y’all aren’t having him here at the house?” Martha’s comment was delivered mildly, but she was shocked. She’d never heard of such a thing as not having your deceased loved one at home with the family for a day or two before the funeral.

  Olivia shook her head. “No, I don’t think I could stand it. Besides, Mr. Henninger and Mr. Royer assured me that most folks hold their viewings right in the funeral parlor these days. It’s much more convenient, being right there next to the chapel, and all.”

  Martha didn’t say what she was thinking, which was that it all sounded pretty cold to her. Instead, she said, “I’ll go with you, if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Cousin. That would comfort me a bunch. I’d rather Mama didn’t go down there ’til later in the day, after I’ve seen to everything. She’s got enough on her mind, what with Daddy and all.”

  “I think you’ve got plenty on your mind, too, Olivia. I know it would do your ma’s heart good to know she was helping you, just like you help her.”

  “Oh, I expect you’re right. I guess I’m just so used to taking care of Mama. That was what me and Daddy always did, both of us together. That was our job, he said, to take care of Mama. I guess it’ll just be my job from now on.” Her face clouded, and tears started to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Martha handed her the handkerchief that she had stuffed up her sleeve, and Olivia dabbed her face with it, one-handed.

  It was true, Martha thought, that Uncle Lester had always taken care of Aunt Ruth Ann like she was a hothouse flower, and had recruited his only daughter to do the same for as long as Martha had known anything about it. Aunt Ruth Ann seemed to think that was just the way things were supposed to be. Odd. Ruth Ann was her mother’s sister, and unless the laws of natural inheritance had been turned on their head, Martha was sure that Ruth Ann was as capable of being as competent and tough as any of the Gunn women. Yet Ruth Ann and Olivia had developed their dynamic long ago, and would probably have trouble seeing each other differently. Now that their lives were changing so fundamentally, would they surprise each other?

  Like Alafair was surprising Martha?

  Martha shook her head tightly and came back to the moment. “Well, I couldn’t find anything out of order with the books out at the well. But they had some excitement out there last night. Somebody about wrecked the place, searching for something, Mr. Nickolls reckons.”

  Olivia pulled herself and little Ron up straight. “I declare! I was just about to tell you exactly the same thing about the office! Somebody got in last night and tore it up top to bottom. They even managed to open the safe and go through all the papers that were in there. Mike Ed called Chief Burns right away, of course, but what could he do? Funny thing is, as near as I can tell, the burglar didn’t take anything. Didn’t even touch the petty cash.”

  “What about the warehouse? The crates and merchandise?”

  “Not touched, that we could see. And we sure looked. Could be that whoever it was didn’t have time to search anywhere but the office. What I can’t figure is how they got in and out of there without being seen. We have a night watchman.”

  “It’s a pretty big warehouse. Could someone have managed to sneak in and out without being seen if they were watching the guard’s movements?” Martha pondered a moment before she offered, “Or it could be that Mike Ed hired somebody who’s in cahoots with the thieves. In any event, the fact that they only searched the office may mean that they’re looking for papers, and not some other kind of loot.”

  “Was anything missing from the drilling operation?”

  Martha hesitated. Would it help Olivia in any way if she knew about the missing nitroglycerin right this minute? “A thing or two. Like your break-in, though, they seemed to be most interested in the papers and records, and Mr. Nickolls said there was nothing missing from those.”

  “Oh, Martha, what is happening here? Kenneth must have done something awful bad. He must have crossed somebody with a mean streak a mile wide, and I’m putting my money on Buck Collins. But what can it be? Why doesn’t Collins j
ust ask me for it, whatever it is? I’ll give it to him if he’ll just leave us alone. He killed my Kenneth. What else could he possibly threaten us with that would be half as bad?”

  Olivia started to cry again. Concerned, Grace abandoned her dolls on the porch and draped herself across Olivia’s knees just as Martha seized her cousin’s arm to comfort her.

  Olivia wiped her eyes with the handkerchief again, and little Ron sagged dangerously in her lap. “I want to go home, Martha. I don’t want to stay here at Mama’s anymore.”

  “Oh, now, Mr. Burns thinks you and Ron will be safer here at your folks’ for a spell, at least until he can figure out who’s behind this frightful business.”

  “He knows who’s behind it as well as I do. Can he prove it—that’s the question? Collins is slick as a gut. There’s a dozen dirty deeds that everybody in town knows to lay at his feet, yet not a one has ever been proved against him. I’m afraid. I’m so afraid that he’s going to get away with it again, and my poor Kenneth will go unavenged.”

  “Still,” Martha said, “I think it would be better if you didn’t stay at home by yourself just yet.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do anything to put Ron in danger. But I want to go home, anyway. Just for a little bit, just to check on things and to sit in my own house for a few minutes.” Olivia shifted Ron to her shoulder, took Grace’s hand, and stood up. “Come with me.”

  “Right now?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. Supper’s not for another couple of hours, and I could use the exercise, not to mention the distraction. We’ll walk down there and sit for a little while, then walk back. It’s broad daylight. Nothing’s going to happen. Grace, you want to take a walk?”

  “Yes! Can we ride the fair’s wheel again?”

  “The fair is over, sweet pea,” Martha said, then to Olivia, “Just let me run up and tell Mama where we’re going.”