Miscarriage of Justice

by Kip Gayden

  He and Anna stood on either side of the doorway, bidding everyone goodbye and “Happy 1912.” When they had waved to the last guests as they descended the front steps, Anna said, “I’m just going to run upstairs and check on the children.”

  Walter puttered around downstairs, picking up the dishes and cups that had accumulated on most of the house’s horizontal surfaces during the course of the evening. He carried the things to the kitchen and stacked them carefully on the counter near the sink. Gertrude would have a full day of work tomorrow.

  Anna came back downstairs and helped him finish picking up the odds and ends left from the party.

  “It was a nice affair, don’t you think?” Walter said.

  “Yes, I think it was. Folks seemed to be having a good time.”

  Walter nodded. “Say, Aloysius Hix said he’s been seeing a lot of you, lately.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. Says the last two times he’s been in J. P.’s waiting for a haircut, you’ve come in and left a magazine or something with Charlie Cobb . . . What’s the matter, Anna?”

  She was giving him a strange look. “Oh, yes, now I remember.” She gave a little laugh and shook her head. “For a bit there, I couldn’t imagine what Mr. Hix was talking about. But I give my old issues of Vogue and Argosy to Charlie to give to Daisy. That’s all it is.”

  Walter studied her for a moment. “Well, that’s nice, dear. I’m sure she gets a lot of enjoyment from reading them.”

  Anna nodded. “Why don’t you go on upstairs, Walter? I’ll finish up the little bit that’s left down here.”

  As he went upstairs, Walter tried to put his finger on what it was about Anna’s response just now that was vaguely troubling. For the merest instant, she’d looked at him the way a cornered rabbit might look at a fox. What was the line from Shakespeare?

  The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

  ANNA SAT ON THE EDGE OF HER BED and stared at the candle on her windowsill. She wondered if it had come from the department store downtown; she was pretty sure she had seen some cut glass knickknacks made in the same style there the last time she went shopping. Charlie had probably picked up the first thing he’d seen. He’d probably spent a total of five minutes finding, selecting, and buying this for Anna’s Christmas present. Hardly a match for the Bee derby she’d chosen for him in Nashville.

  When the party guests had shouted “Happy New Year” awhile ago, Anna’s first thought had been “Not likely.” Walter had given her a chaste kiss with pursed lips and Anna had compared it with the breathless, deep, searching kisses she shared with Charlie.

  What a mess her life had become. Shaking her head, Anna pushed herself up from her bed and began undressing. She put on her woolen nightgown and turned down the gaslights in her room, except for the one over her bed. She turned back the quilts and crawled between the sheets, then reached beneath her pillow for the Argosy Charlie had given her with her candle. He had circled the poem about the woman who lighted a candle for her secret lover. She read the poem again, then reached up to turn down her light.

  How pathetic: lighting a candle, night after night, for a lover who was never coming back. It might be even more pathetic than the mess Anna had managed to get herself into. “Happy New Year,” she said to herself, then settled into her pillow and tried to go to sleep.

  20

  Bobby dennis locked the front door of the hardware store and pocketed the key. He pulled his watch from his vest pocket and flipped open the cover: nearly five thirty. He made a sour face. A lady had come into the store just minutes before closing time and asked him an interminable list of questions, then wound up buying nothing more than a dime’s worth of nuts and bolts. And today, of all days! He was supposed to meet a certain young lady at the Keystone’s restaurant, and he was already late.

  Bobby began walking at a brisk pace down North Water. Maybe she would still be waiting for him when he got there. He’d been talking to Mary Caine, off and on, for several months now, always angling for an opportunity to spend some time with her somewhere other than the sidewalk in front of Mr. Matthews’ store. And alone, instead of with the bevy of friends she always managed to have around her. Oh, she was a fine filly, Mary Caine was! And she could be so delightfully vague, yet promising at the same time. But finally, two days ago, he’d managed to wring from her an agreement to allow him to buy her dinner at the Keystone restaurant . . . and then this old biddy came in and dawdled around and made him late!

  Bobby took the steps onto the Keystone porch two at a time and hurried inside. He peered around the lobby long enough to satisfy himself that Mary Caine wasn’t there, then went into the restaurant.

  No luck. She wasn’t there either, a barmaid told him, and she hadn’t been there, as far as she could recall. Mary Caine had stood him up!

  Thinking about what a fine how-do-you-do this was, Bobby ordered a mug of beer from the bar and paid his nickel. He went outside onto the porch and plopped down at a table, reflecting on the general flightiness of women and the transitory nature of their interests.

  “Hello, Bobby. Mind if I join you?”

  It was Arch Graham. Arch was about Bobby’s age, but Bobby wouldn’t normally have chosen to share a table with him. Arch was a big mouth, almost as bad a gossip as some of the girls. But it would have been rude to tell him he couldn’t sit, so Bobby nodded toward one of the empty chairs. “Help yourself, Arch.”

  Arch sat down and set his beer in front of him. He hooked another chair with the heel of his shoe and dragged it over to prop up his feet. He gave an expansive sigh and took a long draught of beer, then clumped it down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Well, Bobby, how’s the world treating you?”

  “About the same, Arch.”

  “Bit warm for this time of year, wouldn’t you say?”

  Bobby nodded.

  “Say, isn’t that your sister’s house, across the way, there?”

  “Yep. Why do you ask?”

  Arch scratched his chin. “Oh, nothing.”

  Bobby nodded and took a sip of beer.

  “Just that my cousin and her husband live behind it there, across the alley, and she says there’s been a lot of commotion going on there lately.”

  Bobby gave Arch a puzzled look. “Is that so? I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Yeah, says that new fellow, barber . . . what’s his name? Works at Person’s?”

  “You mean Charlie Cobb?”

  “That’s the one. Says he comes and goes through the back gate, all hours of the day and night.”

  “Well, there must be some mistake, I’d say.”

  Arch looked at him, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. “I don’t think so. My cousin, she keeps a pretty good eye on things, and she says Charlie Cobb comes around pretty regular.”

  “What are you trying to say, Arch?”

  Arch held up his palms. “Hey, now, don’t get riled at me, Bobby. I’m just telling you what I hear, is all.”

  “Well, how about you keep it to yourself, then? I don’t care for the direction you seem to be heading.” Bobby drained his beer and stood. “I’ll be going now. Good day to you.”

  “Sorry, Bobby,” Arch called after him. “Just telling you what I hear.”

  Bobby wasn’t one for trouble, and he wasn’t about to sit still and listen to the likes of Arch Graham poor-mouthing his family. Or Charlie Cobb, for that matter. As far as Bobby knew, Charlie was well-liked around town. He didn’t see any reason to let Arch Graham’s loose talk change that in his mind.

  But the next day, as he was helping a customer up by the nail bins near the front of the store, he happened to glance out the front window and see his sister walking toward the square. Though he hated himself for it, the first thing that jumped into Bobby’s mind was the memory of Arch’s insinuations of the evening before. He watched Anna cross the square, and it looked to Bobby as if her bearing would take her directly towa
rd Person’s.

  Nope. It’s just Arch’s loose jaw, is all it is. My sister wouldn’t do something like that.

  He put it out of his mind for the rest of the day, which wasn’t too hard; the store was busy. Spring was coming on and everybody had little projects they were doing around the house. Add to that the farmers coming into town for this and that, and Bobby had plenty to keep himself occupied.

  WALTER FELT HIMSELF SINKING into Charlie’s barber chair. There was something very relaxing about being here in J. P.’s shop with its smell of bay rum, laced with tobacco smoke; the low, casual talk of the other men; and the expert way Charlie Cobb trimmed his hair. And it probably also had to do with the late-night house call Walter had made the night before, to one of his ear, nose, and throat patients. He’d been a little on the sleepy side all day, and now he kept having to fight his eyelids back open. It was a good thing Charlie could sense when his customers wanted to chat and when they just wanted to sit quietly for their haircut and shave. That was another thing that annoyed Walter about J. P.: no matter what, the garrulous older man would want to make conversation with anybody he had in his chair. So Walter had taken to only having Charlie cut his hair, even if it meant waiting a bit.

  “Hey there, Doc. Just the man I wanted to see.”

  Walter cut his eyes around to see who had spoken to him. It was Bill Suggs, a fellow Mason. Walter suppressed the grimace he felt. “Hello, Bill.”

  “What time we leaving tomorrow evening?”

  Oh, yes. Walter and Bill were scheduled to travel to the Claiborne lodge in Nashville to present guest lectures. Walter sagged with disappointment. Counting Bible study tonight, Thursday evening would have been the only night he’d have had at home since last Sunday. Oh, well . . .

  “Let’s see, Bill. How about if I pick you up in my car at about three? We need to be there by six to be in time for the dinner.”

  Suggs nodded. “What time do you think we’ll be home? Mary’ll ask me that, first thing.”

  Walter calculated. “If we don’t have any bad luck, we ought to be back here by midnight, I guess.”

  Bill puffed out his cheeks. “Late night. Mary won’t be happy.”

  Anna won’t either, most likely.

  “All right, then, Doc. I’ll be ready. Three o’clock.” Suggs nodded at J. P. and Charlie, then left.

  “You sure do stay busy, Doc,” Charlie said. “I don’t know how you find time to do all you do.”

  Walter gave a little shrug. “I probably do too much.”

  BOBBY SMILED. Mary Caine was standing just inside the door of the Keystone lobby, and she was giving him that shy, happy look that he especially liked. Only this time she wasn’t doing it from the center of a bunch of her friends. She was here to meet him for dinner, just the two of them, after which she’d promised him a walk around the courthouse square before he escorted her home.

  “Hello, Mary,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  “Hello, Robert.”

  “I’m sure glad we could find another time for this. And I’m sorry again about the other day.”

  She brushed his arm with her fingers. “That’s all right. I understand.”

  “Well, would you like to go in and sit down?”

  “You know what? It’s so nice out today, why don’t we sit on the porch?”

  Bobby was a little disappointed; he’d been looking forward to the darker, quieter atmosphere inside the restaurant. “Well, sure,” he said. “That sounds just fine. Let’s go find a good table and then I’ll go tell them we want to eat outside.”

  The porch wasn’t too crowded today, which was good. Bobby located a table for two, well back under the wide porch, but still with a good view of the street. He had to admit, it was a very pleasant spring day. As long as Mary Caine was happy, he guessed he didn’t have any reason to complain. Bobby really liked her. He’d been thinking about asking Walter if he could borrow the Winton Six sometime, to take Mary for a drive in the country.

  He held her chair for her, then went back into the hotel to notify someone in the restaurant that he wanted to be served out on the porch. He came back and sat down across from Mary Caine. Out of habit, he’d given himself the chair that looked out toward the street.

  “Well, how have you been?” he said.

  “Just fine. My mother wasn’t too happy about me meeting you down here, like this, but I told her ‘Mother, I’m twenty years old and I know how to behave myself, and besides, Robert Dennis is a very nice young man.’”

  “Well, my goodness! I hardly know what to say. I didn’t know it was so hard for you to—”

  “What? What is it, Robert?” Mary twisted around in her seat, trying to see what had suddenly distracted him.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Mary. Never mind . . .”

  But for the rest of the meal, Bobby worried over what he’d seen: Charlie Cobb, walking up the front sidewalk of Anna’s house, knocking on the front door, and disappearing inside. After a few minutes, he came out, touched the brim of his derby, and went off north down Railroad Street.

  What was Charlie Cobb doing at his sister’s house? It was probably nothing, Bobby told himself—he was probably still stinging from Arch Graham’s comment a few days ago. He tried his best to keep his mind on what Mary Caine was telling him about this and that, and he thought he mostly succeeded. But when they’d finished their meal, he had more than half a notion to cut short their stroll around the courthouse and take her straight home, then go to Anna’s house and find out firsthand what errand had brought Charlie Cobb around.

  ANNA TOOK the Argosy and quickly flipped through the pages. What was Charlie thinking, leaving it with Gertrude? Did the man know nothing? Fortunately for them both, Gertrude couldn’t read, but what if she hadn’t given the magazine to Anna, as Charlie had apparently told her, but to Walter instead? Ah . . . there it was.

  Walter is speaking at an out-of-town Mason’s meeting tom. nite. I must see you. All my love, C.

  21

  Oh, i hope mrs. hickerson still has some of those ribbons,” Mabel was saying. “They were so pretty in Dorothy’s hair, and I’m afraid they’ll all be sold. Can’t you hurry, Mama?” Mabel tugged on Anna’s hand as they neared Gladys Hickerson’s fabric and notions shop. “Hurry, Mama, please.”

  “Mabel, now just settle down,” Anna said, smiling. “If they don’t have that ribbon, they’ll have something else, and maybe Mrs. Hickerson can even order it for you.”

  Mabel made an impatient face at her mother and pulled the door open. She started inside, then quickly stepped back and held the door as Mrs. Baskerville came out of the store.

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Dotson,” the attorney’s wife said. “And Mabel, how nice to see you,” she said, smiling down at Mabel and cupping her chin in a gloved hand.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Baskerville,” Anna said. “Lovely spring weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, quite nice. Mabel, are you helping your mother with shopping today?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re buying some ribbon. At least, I hope we are.” Mabel gave her mother a worried look.

  Anna laughed. “Mabel has her heart set on something one of her friends wore to school today, and nothing would do except for us to come down here today.”

  Mrs. Baskerville gave Mabel an indulgent smile. “Well, sometimes we girls get in our heads what we want, don’t we, Mabel?” She looked at Anna. “By the way, my husband mentioned to me the other day that he saw you in the barber shop, of all places.”

  Anna hoped her face didn’t display the sudden drop her stomach had taken. “Person’s? Oh . . . yes. I take my old Argosy magazines to the new man there. He takes them home to his wife.”

  “Mr. Cobb?”

  “Yes, I believe that’s his name.”

  Mabel gave her mother an odd look.

  “How thoughtful,” Mrs. Baskerville said. Her eyes lingered a few seconds on Mabel. “Well, I’d better be getting along. I hope you find your ribbon,
dear,” she said, giving Mabel a quick smile.

  “Yes, good day, Mrs. Baskerville,” Anna said.

  They went into the store. Mabel hurried to one of the glass display cases. “Oh, good. Here it is, Mama. Come see. Mama? Mama! Why aren’t you coming?”

  Anna realized she was peering out the shop window, watching Mrs. Baskerville walk away. She quickly turned toward her daughter. “Sorry, dear. Show me the ribbon.”

  WALTER PUSHED BACK from the table and patted his belly. “My, my. Anna, that was the most delicious pork chop I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Thank you, Walter. It was one of the recipes that Daisy gave me. She’s a real good cook.”

  “Daisy Cobb?” Bobby said, giving his sister a quick look.

  “Yes. Mr. Cobb from the barbershop—his wife.”

  Bobby looked away.

  “Well, I believe I’ll lie down for a little while before the business meeting,” Walter said, stretching lazily. “Bobby, sure glad you could join us.”

  “Thank you, Walter,” Bobby said, still looking somewhere else.

  “Mabel, Scott . . . time for Sunday afternoon naps.”

  “But, Mama, I . . .”

  Anna lifted an index finger and gave her son a no-nonsense look.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  “Come on, Scottie,” Mabel said. “I’ll read to you until we get sleepy.”

  “Don’t call me ‘Scottie,’ ” he said, slouching after his sister.

  Anna picked up the meat platter and turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll help you, Sis,” Bobby said, pushing back his chair.

  They cleared the table, stacking the plates beside the sink. Anna removed the tablecloth, carried it to the backyard, and shook the crumbs into the grass, then came back in and smoothed the white, embroidered linen back into place on the table. She went into the kitchen and Bobby was leaning against the counter by the sink with his arms crossed, looking at her. She gave him a questioning expression.