by Donis Casey
“My neighbor has an orange tree.” Elizabeth said. “That’s it yonder. It’s coming into bloom a little early this year after the rainy winter.”
It was quickly becoming too dark to see clearly. Elizabeth pointed at a row of small trees with rounded tops and glossy dark green leaves at the far edge of her deep back yard, just on the other side of the fence on the neighbor’s property. Did they have white trunks? Alafair’s bleary eyes felt as though they were full of grit. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them briskly before squinting once more into the gathering gloom at the tree. Yes, white trunks. As she peered she became aware of a second white figure at the fence, and it slowly dawned on her that what she had at first thought was another tree, smaller than the others, was in fact a human figure standing quietly at the fence. A woman in a light-colored dress. There was something white on her head as well. Whatever it was, it reflected the fading light and created a ghostly silver halo around her head. There even seemed to be a sparkle to it. Or perhaps that was an effect of Alafair having just rubbed her eyes. A trick of the gloaming and her tired eyes.
She opened her mouth to ask Elizabeth if what she was seeing was actually there, but before she could speak her sister said, “I’m betting y’all are about to fall over. Have you had anything to eat? I have a big pot of soup and some sandwiches just made.”
“I could eat a bite,” Shaw said at the same time that Blanche whined, “I’m tired, Ma.”
“Come on then, let me show you where y’all will be sleeping. You can settle your luggage back there, Shaw, before you eat. Then you can stretch out for a rest, Blanche, honey. My boy Chase is already in bed or I would introduce you to your cousin before you go to sleep. Are you sure you don’t want a little something to gnaw on?” Elizabeth chatted away as they continued toward the house. Before they moved out of sight of the back fence the spectral white woman began walking away and Alafair caught sight of two dark figures trotting along beside her. Had they been there all along? At first she thought they were two good-sized dogs, but the shadow of small pointed horns and the sound of hollow bells in the still evening air told her they were two little goats. A cheerful bleat confirmed her realization.
As Alafair followed her sister into the house her spirits lifted. Coming as it did at the end of such an exhausting journey, the vision of the white woman and her companions seemed like a good omen. For the first time she felt a stirring of anticipation and a feeling that there might be something pleasant about this trip after all.
A Sharp Exchange
Elizabeth ushered them into her large parlor while Webster unloaded the Hupmobile. For an instant Alafair felt as though she had been shown into the lobby of a tastefully decorated hotel. Much of the first floor consisted of one large open space under a beamed ceiling. A curtained alcove to one side led to the stairwell. Three of the parlor walls were painted a pale forest green above oak plank wainscoting. The fourth wall was exposed river rock and sported a stone fireplace topped by a carved wooden mantlepiece. The fireplace opening had been fitted with a cast iron wood-burning stove with an open wire grate. Alafair was glad to see that the fire was lit. The warm afternoon had quickly given way to a sharp chill once the sun had set.
Elizabeth had used furniture, potted plants, and colorful scatter rugs to create four distinct seating areas in the parlor. Two large wingback armchairs stood side by side in front of the fireplace with an octagonal occasional table between them. One corner of the room near the front door was fitted with wooden bookshelves and a built-in window seat strewn with embroidered pillows. In the back, a rocker, a love seat, and a small wooden writing desk with a slat-back chair created a perfect nook for reading, letter-writing, or intimate conversation over a cup of tea.
The central area of the room contained two long upholstered couches facing one another over a low tea table. Two slatted oak chairs with wide wooden arms and fat padded seat and back cushions had been placed at one end of the open rectangle between the couches.
The style of the furnishings was like nothing Alafair had ever seen before; spare and simple, a lot of natural, rough-hewn wood, muted, jewel-like colors, mostly green and earthy browns set off by eye-catching accents in red and golden yellow with spots of amethyst and turquoise. The room was illuminated by gas lights in stained glass sconces on the walls. The kerosene lamps sitting on the tables were familiar in shape but with amber art glass chimneys instead of the plain affairs Alafair used at home.
The room was inviting and functional, a place Alafair would have liked to linger had she not been desperate for a meal, a wash, and a good long sleep.
Elizabeth led them through the parlor into the small kitchen at the back of the house and sat them down in the center of the room at a square wooden table just big enough for four people. Blanche crawled up into Shaw’s lap in order to leave room for Webster. How does she feed company? Alafair wondered.
The table had already been set so Elizabeth busily began turning food out onto serving plates.
“I have coffee if y’all want it, or milk or tea. I whipped up a pan of cornbread and there is a pot of potato soup simmering here on the stove. I made some ham sandwiches, too.” She put the platter on the table. “Yonder is a jar of piccalilli and here is a fresh bowl of pico de gallo. Try that if you’ve never had it before. It’s good with a sandwich.”
Webster appeared in the kitchen door with his arms full of luggage. “Where do you want me to put these cases, honey?”
A look came over Elizabeth’s face that gave Alafair pause. “Where do you think, Web? I have been getting the veranda room ready all week.” She did not actually add, “you dolt,” but the epithet was implied in her tone.
Alafair and Shaw cast one another a glance, but Web did not seem to notice his wife’s pique. His reply was chipper. “Oh, sure enough, then.” He walked through the kitchen and out the back door carrying the Tuckers’ three little carpet bags. Elizabeth’s gaze bored a hole in his back as he passed.
She turned back to her guests, her demeanor perfectly pleasant. “I think y’all will be comfortable out there. It’s airy and has lots of space to stretch out. It’s one of my favorite rooms in the house.We built it onto the back veranda so we would have a good place for guests, but most of the time I am the only one who uses it. I call it my reading room.”
Web returned to the kitchen after depositing their luggage and Elizabeth served him with no trace of her earlier ill humor. The Tuckers were so exhausted that much of the dinner conversation was monosyllabic small talk. By the time they finished their supper Blanche was asleep in Shaw’s arms and Alafair was about to nod off into her soup bowl, so Elizabeth immediately showed them to their quarters.
They had to go out the back door to reach the veranda room, which was built onto the back of the main house and had its own entrance. The room was longer than it was wide, boasting many windows and several large sheepskin and cow skin rugs to soften the flagstone floor. The beds were set up on opposite sides of the room—a large double for the grown-ups and a single tucked into a corner for Blanche. Elizabeth lit a couple of oil lamps and left them to unpack while she went back into the kitchen to fill a pitcher with hot water for their evening ablutions. Alafair was glad to see that the veranda room was not fitted for gas. Gaslights made a very pleasant glow but Alafair did not trust them not to go out in the middle of the night and smother her in her sleep.
Blanche never woke, even as Alafair undressed her and put her into her long flannel nightgown before tucking her up into the big bed.
Shaw and Alafair sat down side by side on the small bed to await Elizabeth’s return with the water. For a long moment the only sound in the dim room was their breathing.
At length Alafair turned her head to give Shaw a puzzled frown. “What was that sharp exchange between Elizabeth and Web?”
His mouth quirked. He was aware that the incident had been eating on his wife for the last hour. “It looked to me like the ill feelings were all on her side. Some
times married folks get annoyed with one another, honey. It don’t necessarily mean anything.”
“We haven’t seen those two together in dog’s years, Shaw. Who knows how they’re rubbing along after all this time? But if this is not a peaceful house I surely do not aim to leave Blanche here.”
Shaw lifted one shoulder in half a shrug. “We will have a few days to judge. But if we don’t think this is a good set-up for Blanche, we’ll derive some other plan, sugar. Don’t worry about it right now.”
He had lifted an arm and draped it over her shoulder. Alafair did not reply but she did smile and lean into his side, feeling relieved.
Dr. Moeur Concurs
The gorgeous weather turned out to be as salubrious as Dr. Addison had suggested. It had been the right decision to come; for now, a mere five days after their arrival in Tempe, Blanche seemed to be improved beyond all expectation.
Alafair had begun to entertain the hope that when she and Shaw made the trip home in a couple of weeks, they would not have to leave their daughter with Elizabeth to recuperate for months in this faraway place. That had been the original plan, and if it was going to save Blanche’s health and even her life, Alafair had been willing to do it. Even if the very thought of abandoning her ill baby to someone the child did not know distressed Alafair no end.
But Blanche loved her Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Webster and her little cousin. And Alafair was glad of the chance to reacquaint herself with Elizabeth and Webster, even if her young nephew was a bit ill-behaved for her taste. And Blanche loved Arizona. The weird beauty of the place appealed to her, as did the piercing blue of the sky and the soft, mild air.
Even so, Alafair and Shaw anxiously awaited Dr. Moeur’s verdict as he finished his examination. They sat behind Blanche in straight-backed chairs in Elizabeth’s kitchen, shoulder to shoulder in parental solidarity. Dr. Moeur removed the stethoscope from his ears and hung it around his neck before giving Blanche a reassuring smile. The little girl’s expression was tentative if friendly enough, one shapely eyebrow cocked in suspicion as this stranger prodded her.
“Now that was not so bad, was it, honey?” Moeur fished a piece of hard candy out of his pocket and handed it to Blanche.
“No, sir.” Her mouth quirked up in one corner as she took the candy. She was aware she was being bought off, but she was willing to go along with it.
“You run along now and let me talk to your mama and daddy.”
Blanche threw her parents a glance over her shoulder as she popped the peppermint into her mouth, and Alafair nodded at her.
Moeur waited until Blanche was safely out of the room before offering his diagnosis. “I think your doctor back home was right. It doesn’t look like tuberculosis to me but more like a persistent case of bronchitis brought on by the damp. Otherwise she appears to be a healthy enough little girl. Bringing her out here was a good idea. Is that rattling cough new, Mrs. Tucker?”
“Yes, sir, just since we got here. All winter it has been a dry cough that distressed her, but now she says it don’t hurt her chest to cough.”
“That’s good. Seems her lung congestion is breaking up. You just keep up with those hot poultices and herb teas. I’ve found hot chicken broth to be effective against chest congestion but I’m sure you have some good medicinals in your own arsenal. You may wish to consult Elizabeth’s neighbor, Mrs. Carrizal. She is a curandera of some note around here.”
He turned his gaze toward Shaw. “I have learned over the years that mothers tend to know what helps their children even better than we doctors do.”
He unstrung the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in the bag at his feet. “So I’ll just tell you what you already know, Mrs. Tucker. Keep her warm and dry, see that she gets a lot a rest and drinks lots of liquids. I’ll drop back by in a couple of days to see how she’s doing.”
Unnatural Death
After Dr. Moeur took his leave, Alafair tucked Blanche in for a nap and sat next to the bed until she dropped off. When Alafair finally left the bedroom, she found the doctor still standing on the front porch, deep in conversation with Shaw and Elizabeth. She did not have to ask what they were talking about.
She stepped out onto the porch to join them. “Doctor, what did you discover about that poor fellow who got found dead in the ditch yonder?”
“Well, ma’am, as I was telling your folks here, it seems he did not drown after all. Nor was it alcohol poisoning, which is what I expected. He had not been drinking at all, as far as I could tell on cursory inspection. Somebody struck him twice in the back of the head with a blunt instrument. The first blow probably stunned him and maybe knocked him out, but he would have recovered from that one with nothing more than a bad headache. He didn’t survive the second blow. It caved in the back of his head. He had been dead some hours before he was found.”
“Mercy!”
“Mercy, indeed. If those of you in the house didn’t hear anything, his assailant must have taken him by surprise. Come up on him from behind and delivered a blow with a heavy object before Arruda could react or defend himself. Since this is now a killing rather than an accident, I’m sure someone from the sheriff’s office will be around soon to see if any of you have remembered anything new since you talked to Constable Nettles.”
Unlikely Killers
Shaw took his leave and went back into the house, but Alafair remained on the porch and watched Elizabeth escort the doctor back to his Franklin automobile parked on the street in front of the house. Alafair could not hear what they were saying as they stood and talked for a few moments. But like two old friends their conversation was pleasant and full of smiles. Moeur tipped his hat and slid into the front seat. Elizabeth’s fringed shawl had slipped down on one side and she absently drew it back up over her shoulder. She gave a languid wave as Moeur drove away.
Elizabeth turned and picked her way across the grassy yard like an ibis, tall and slender, lifting and placing each long leg with every careful step, mindful of her leather pumps and white stockings.
She reached the porch and looked up at Alafair with a hint of a smile. “Doctor Moeur told me on the sly that Constable Nettles thinks Bernie was more than likely done in by somebody at the party.”
Alafair’s eyebrows peaked. “Does Dr. Moeur think so too?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “He knows everybody who was there as well as I do and probably better. They are all my friends and neighbors, and it’s hard to credit that there is a murderer among them. Of course, we did hear some high words on the subject of Francisco Villa’s raid into Columbus, New Mexico, and generally on the revolution going on down in Old Mexico. I have heard a lot of talk around town on that subject of late. To hear folks go on you’d think every one of the Mexicans who are coming across the border to get away from the fighting are murderers and criminals who are taking our jobs and money and the food right out of our children’s mouths!” Her ironic laugh indicated what she thought of that idea. “And after the battle in Columbus, some are downright hysterical.”
“There were some folks here last night who no one knew,” Alafair pointed out.
“Well, yes, a few. The Pipers brought their cousin who is visiting from Provo, and I reckon we are not well acquainted with either Jorge or Tony Arruda. But the Arrudas likely didn’t kill their own brother and Miss Piper seemed an unlikely killer.”
Alafair stepped down off the porch to stand next to Elizabeth in the yard. She threaded her arm through her sister’s and they began strolling back toward the canal ditch. “I have in mind the moving picture actors who came to the party, Elizabeth. They were certainly complete strangers to all but each other.”
Aside from Villa’s raid, all the talk around town was about the Hollywood moving picture that was being shot right here in Tempe, starring the famous leading man Hobart Bosworth and a cast of glamorous actors and actresses. The cast and crew were currently staying downtown in the same hotel building that housed the telephone exchange and newspaper, next door to We
b’s law office.
In Elizabeth’s opinion the motion picture was the most exciting thing that had ever occurred or was ever likely to occur in Tempe, Arizona, and over the past few days she had taken every opportunity to tell Alafair about it. Elizabeth and her friends had spent several happy afternoons watching the filming at various locations around town. Webster often frequented the hotel restaurant and had become acquainted with some of the crew members, so Elizabeth had cajoled him into extending a blanket party invitation to the entire company.
To Alafair’s mind the motion-picture folks had been pleasant enough, and Blanche was especially enchanted by the dark-eyed young actress Dorothy Clark. But aside from being better dressed than most, they had not seemed to be any different from ordinary people. Certainly not any more inclined to violence.
Elizabeth was appalled at the very idea that a member of the repertory could have been involved in mischief. “Sister, you cannot seriously entertain the notion that the three refined individuals who graced the premises that night would have it in them to kill someone.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But I do believe I heard that Bernie and at least one of his brothers had small acting parts in that motion picture.”
“Oh, I knew Bernie was in the picture! That had slipped my mind.” Elizabeth clapped one slender hand to her cheek. “One day when my friend Cindy and me went out to watch the shooting over by the buttes, he had a pretty good part playing a Mexican soldier.” Her hand dropped and the doubtful expression returned to her face. “Still, what possible reason would any of the movie actors have to do away with Bernie?”
Alafair looked thoughtfully at the canal water, just a slow trickle at the bottom of the ditch today. “Do you know the Arruda boys very well, Elizabeth?”