Death of a Rainmaker

by Laurie Loewenstein

  “I do not. Not at this time. Maybe later, after you’re squarely in my camp. Right now you’re like a snake shedding its skin. Not wholly one or the other. Go interview Maxine. It’s important.” Temple stubbed out the cigarette. “I’m going to drop the handle off with Hinchie. We’ll catch up here later.”

  * * *

  A boy in overalls answered the door at Maxine’s house. “Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any.” The kid casually plunged his fist into a ratty baseball mitt bound with black electrical tape.

  Ed’s brows shot up. If he’d spoken that way to a grown-up, his father would have socked him. “Your parents home?”

  “Nope. Just Maxine,” he scoffed.

  “Can I speak with her?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  The brass deputy sheriff’s badge he pulled out of his pocket was not as ornate or heavy as Temple’s, but it did the trick. The boy stepped back with wide eyes. “Yes sir. Come on in.”

  Ed slapped the badge back into his pocket and stepped into the living room. It was bigger than the kitchen, dining room, and parlor combined of his family’s Chicago apartment. Against the far wall, a resplendent cabinet radio, its wooden grille shined to a high gloss, held court. A large fern sat on top, its fronds unfurling into green tendrils.

  “She’s in here,” the boy said, leading Ed through a rounded archway. The deputy skirted a scatter of metal jacks on the rug and followed him into the dining room.

  “Who was at the . . .” an older girl wearing round spectacles and a frown was saying as Ed walked in. She had risen from her chair behind the dining table, but upon seeing Ed, she abruptly sat down. “Oh! My folks aren’t here.”

  Across the table, pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were meticulously spread. The upper right corner of the puzzle was taking shape: leaves against a blue sky.

  “I’m Ed McCance, the deputy sheriff, and if you are Miss Saunders I am hoping we could talk.” Ed produced his badge a second time. “We’re investigating the murder of Mr. Coombs and think he may have attended the matinee yesterday. There’s a good chance the killer followed Coombs from the Jewel into the alley.”

  Maxine sucked in her breath. “He was murdered? And the killer was in the Jewel? I sold a ticket to a killer?” she yelped. Behind the spectacles, her eyes went wide.

  “We’re not sure. That’s why I’m here.”

  After a long exhale, Maxine said, “Cliff, get lost. But stay in the yard.”

  Ed pulled out a chair across from her.

  The kid said, “Nuts to you. I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “Don’t say ain’t and I’m in charge. Mommy said so. Out.”

  Cliff darted to the table, scrambled Maxine’s assembled pieces into a jumbled pile, and scooted out, the screen door banging in his wake.

  “You brat!” Maxine yelled. To Ed she added, “So juvenile.”

  Ed smiled. “I have three little brothers myself.”

  “You do?”

  “Back in Chicago. That’s where I’m from.” He plucked the notepad from his pocket.

  “How’d you get out here?” Maxine already knew the answer. Harriet, her best friend, had told her all about the good-looking deputy with the Dick Powell eyes. Harriet would turn green when she found out that Mr. McCance had come asking for Maxine.

  “CCC. Best thing that ever happened to me.” Ed cleared his throat. “Could I trouble you for glass of water?”

  Maxine jumped up. “Sure thing. Back in a dash.”

  She filled a tumbler at the kitchen faucet. From the pocket of her housedress she fished out her lipstick. Harriet had been right. What a dreamboat! Her baggy ankle socks had to go. She snatched them off and stuffed them in the first place she could think of, which happened to be the bread drawer. Dipping her fingers in the glass of water, Maxine tweaked the curves of her bob.

  When she reentered the dining room, Ed was bent over the puzzle. “Trying to patch up the mess your brother made. I haven’t done one of these in ages.”

  “They pass the time when I’m minding the holy terror,” Maxine said, handing him the water.

  “Thanks.” He drained the glass and picked up his pencil. “All right. Let’s start with the particulars. Your name, age, and how long you’ve worked at the Jewel.”

  Maxine was considering if his full name was Edward or Edwin. She preferred Edward, like the prince of Wales. Edwin sounded rather prudish. “Maxine Ruth Saunders. Thirteen and eight months. I’ve been working for Mr. Benton for almost two years. I started out stocking the candy counter and now I sell tickets too.”

  “Good. Now, tell me about yesterday. What time you got to work, who bought tickets. The works.”

  As Maxine described her routine she fiddled with the puzzle pieces, turning them this way and that. When she found a match, she tapped the interlocking pieces so Ed would notice. “I got to the theater at eleven and first thing I always check the counter. It’s funny how some days almost all the Boston Baked Beans are gone. Other days it’s Raisinets. You never know. Then I emptied the torn stubs from the ticket bin. Mr. Benton hits the roof if that overflows. It was getting close to opening, so I started setting things up in the booth. Mr. Benton brought out the change drawer. He came back again, fussing about something. I don’t remember what. Then I just waited for customers.”

  The puzzle’s upper border of trees and sky were taking shape again. Maxine began concentrating on the lower right corner. “Oh look!” She held up a piece with most of a woman’s face. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “Umm. Sure,” Ed said. He cleared his throat again. “I want you to think carefully. Who bought tickets? Mr. Benton says he collected twenty-three. Some customers he knew by voice. But some he didn’t. If you can remember all of them, all twenty-three, that would be great.”

  “Jeez. Is this a quiz? I’m not too good at those.” Maxine screwed her lips to one side. “Mrs. Reed bought the first ticket. She’s a regular. Then Clara and Leroy, they’re going steady. That’s only three. This is going to be hard.”

  After five minutes she had remembered a total of twenty. The list included two high school teachers; the two Mrs. Laycombs, the judge’s wife and mother; three nurses from the hospital, still in uniform; Mr. Hodge the lawyer; Viviane Gilbert from the courthouse; three county clerks spiffed up on their day off in suits and ties; a guy and a girl, not together, who she figured, by their clothes, were from nearby Woodward; and three CCCers. Ed’s stomach lurched.

  Maxine tapped the table with all ten digits. “And Mr. Coombs.”

  Ed’s brows rose. “How did you know it was him?”

  “He told me. When it was his turn at the booth he slid a business card into the slot. He said, I’m the fellow you’re hearing about that’s going to make it rain. How about a free ride? Then he flashed a big grin. As if I was some kind of ninny.”

  “What’d you do?”

  Maxine huffed. “I said no, of course. Pushed out my chin to show I meant business.”

  “And?”

  “And he winked to let me know it was all a joke, paid his nickel, and strolled inside.” Maxine flopped back in her chair. “How many is that? Must be twenty-three.”

  “Nope. Three more.”

  “Jeez. I can’t think of anyone else.” She leaned over the table. “Did you ever notice how when you’re doing a puzzle and the radio’s on, the story sort of mixes with the pieces? See this section I’m working on here? Somehow the people we’re talking about are part of it.”

  Ed nodded. “I think I know what you mean.” He picked up a piece. “This goes here.” He tamped it down alongside the woman’s face. What is this a picture of, anyway?”

  “It’s called ‘In the Garden of Dreams.’ I’ve put it together bunches of times. There are these two women in togas and some swans. Sometimes I pretend I’m one of the ladies.” After blurting this out, Maxine blushed. Pretending? He must think I’m a little kid. But when she peered at Ed, he was examining a piece.

  “
Is this water or sky, do you think?” he asked.

  After a few minutes of quiet assembly, the deputy picked up the pencil again. “So, we’ll come back to the rest of the ticket buyers. Tell me what happened when the storm started up.”

  “It was the worst I’ve seen. I’m not a scaredy cat, but I was shaking in my boots. I told Mr. Benton. He sent me up to shut off the projector while he calmed the customers. They all wanted to leave, of course, but it was too late. They would have been blown to Kansas. It took some convincing to make them stay. Mrs. Laycomb stomped out as if she was fixin’ to go, but flew back in when she saw for herself how bad it was. We were stuck at least three hours with the wind howling and so much sand and dirt thrown you couldn’t hear yourself think. Luckily, the kerosene lamps fired right up.”

  “So you could see?”

  “Sort of.”

  Ed looked away in thought. “I want you to close your eyes.”

  It crossed her mind that he was going to kiss her. Maybe she should take off her glasses, but her hands were shaking too much. She lowered her lids in fear and excitement. But it was just more pretending and she knew it.

  The deputy was giving directions: “Think back to that scene. Is Mrs. Reed there? Do you see her?”

  Maxine screwed her eyes tight. “Yes. I remember! She wears those silver bracelets and I heard them jangle when it was blowing so hard.”

  “Okay, good.” Ed consulted the list of names she’d given him. “How about Clara and Leroy?”

  Smacking noises rose from Maxine’s puckered lips.

  In the end, she remembered seeing most of the ticket buyers seated in the theater but wasn’t sure about five or six. For some reason, she could only conjure up two of the three nurses. Had the lawyer stuck it out? She wasn’t sure of that, either. And the same with the CCCers. Two had stayed—but all three? Maxine shrugged.

  Ed sighed. “All right. Mr. Coombs?”

  Maxine opened her eyes, snapped her fingers. “You know, I didn’t see him. I know that for sure because I checked. I was going to tell Mr. Benton about the trick he tried to pull and I looked around but he wasn’t there.”

  “Yeah, we figured he might have slipped out. But this confirms it. Good work.” Now Ed put down the pencil. “Maybe more patrons than Coombs scooted out?”

  “Could have happened while I was up at the projection booth.”

  Ed nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “And,” Maxine said in a rush, “and I think someone might have left while I was bringing in the lamps. It was pitch black, the duster was right on top of us, and the side door, the one on the alley, blew open. At least I thought it did, but maybe someone was, you know, ducking out.”

  “The door slammed open?”

  “Yeah. A load of dust and sand blew in. Someone yelled to shut it.”

  “How long was it open, do you think?”

  “A couple of seconds.”

  “Long enough for two people to leave?”

  Maxine pulled back. “I see what you’re getting at. I think so.” She shivered. “This is giving me the creeps.” She couldn’t remember any more details.

  The screen door to the house slapped and Cliff clattered in. “The guys got a ball game going behind the school. Can I head over?”

  Maxine’s eyes narrowed. “All of a sudden you’re asking instead of just running off? What have you been up to that you don’t want me to know about?”

  Her brother frowned. “Me? Nothing. I’ve been staying in the yard just like you said.”

  “I’ve got to move along too, Miss Saunders. You’ve been a great help.” Ed stood and tucked the notepad in his pocket.

  “Happy to oblige.” Maxine’s Red Glo lips glistened.

  “If you remember any more ticket buyers or anything else, call the sheriff’s office right away.”

  “I will.”

  As he adjusted his hat, she imagined him sweeping her up into his arms and promptly felt sick at the thought. She watched from behind the front curtains as he headed down the sidewalk. When he was out of sight, she slumped onto the sofa. Dejected but also relieved. Pretend boyfriends were safer.

  * * *

  In the solemnity of the blistering Sunday afternoon, Ed walked the quiet streets back toward the courthouse. Chicago’s clamor was thousands of miles away. He grinned. Got a lot accomplished, he thought. Might have nailed down the victim’s movements just before he was killed. Got a bunch of possible suspects. A number of sturdy young men, capable of killing someone with a strong hit to the head, had been at the Jewel that day. Of course, that was assuming the murderer was at the theater at all. But how else would he know Coombs was in the alley at just that time? So, the county clerks were possibilities. That lawyer, Hodge, might be another. Ed considered the clerks and wondered if they had been among the entourage fawning over Doll at the bar the night before. Could there be some connection between the killing and the campaign? If this was Chicago, the answer would be yes. But here? Ed doubted it. He wished Maxine had eliminated all the CCCers. He thought of Temple up at the camp right at that moment. Ed trusted his boss to be fair, to do the right thing. He just hoped the right thing wasn’t arresting Carmine.

  Chapter eleven

  After Ed left to question Maxine, Temple wrapped the shovel handle in a sheet of the Gazetteer and drove over to the doctor’s house. Minnie received the bundle and Temple’s request with a sniff, explaining that she had other plans for Hinchie, which involved burning the week’s rubbish.

  “You’re a hard-driving woman,” Temple said with a laugh.

  He climbed behind the wheel thinking of the set of Etha’s mouth when she had something she wanted to accomplish. “They are the backbone,” he said aloud, turning the sedan westward toward the CCC camp.

  After the previous day’s storm, the horizon was still choked in a thick yellow haze. With so many fence posts buried up to their necks, unsettled crows flew in circles, searching for places to roost. Temple strode up the path to the CCC commander’s office, tapped on the door, and walked in. Army Captain Leroy Baker oversaw the site from behind a dented metal desk that appeared, like all the CCC’s gear, to be an army castoff. But Baker himself was first rate, in Temple’s estimation. The army reservist’s posture was straight, his gestures efficient, and word was that he ran a well-oiled operation and didn’t play favorites. With his black tie tucked between the second and third buttons, and high lace boots, Baker looked the part.

  “Long time no see,” Baker said. “Where you been a-keeping yourself?”

  “Here and there. We’ve been meaning to have you to supper. Really, Etha has been poking at me to invite you. Think you could get one of your subordinates to babysit the corps one night?”

  “That’d be swell.” Baker had a ruddy face that lit up like a lantern when he smiled. “Haven’t had a home-cooked meal in I don’t know how long.”

  Temple’s eyes fell on a cluster of topographical maps, covered with pushpins, papering the walls. “What are these here?”

  “Trees planted. Windbreaks to hold the soil in place. Each pin is a hundred trees.”

  Temple gave a slow whistle. “That’s a lot of holes dug. You’ve got the boys on their toes.”

  “Sure enough.”

  “Good bunch?”

  “Best so far. Hard workers even though they get here mighty scrawny. It takes two weeks of three squares and calisthenics to get them even halfway conditioned.”

  Temple shook his head. “A shame what’s happening to this country.” He meandered to the opposite wall where supplies were neatly stacked on wooden shelves. Along the top were small hand tools—hammers, screwdrivers, and such. Boxes of bolts and nails, each labeled as to size and length, were one shelf down alongside hand drills, pliers, planes, and files. On the bottom were saws, picks, and at least half a dozen shovels with square metal handles.

  “You got a whole hardware store here.”

  “Trying to teach these boys something about forestry and carpentry. The
army supplies us.”

  “My grandfather had a hardware store. I recognize most all of these. I can tell you the difference between a ball-peen, ripping, riveting, and bell-face hammer,” Temple said with a grin. “But I don’t recognize this here.” He picked up a handled shovel, balancing it between his two hands, judging its weight.

  “And you wouldn’t, unless you served in the war. That’s an army entrenching shovel. Specially designed for digging trenches. Every soldier who fought was issued one, along with a mess kit, wire cutters, and a gas mask. After coming home from France, I’d hoped never to set eyes on one again but crates of them keep turning up here like bad pennies.”

  Temple made a clicking noise with his tongue out of the side of his mouth. “Learn something new every day.” He laid the shovel back in the pile. “Each of these accounted for?”

  “Not really. Those on the shelves are extras. Most are stored in the supply room. Why?”

  Temple pulled the visitor’s chair away from the desk to make room for his legs and settled himself. Ed must have handled one of those shovels every day when he was in the CCC, but hadn’t said a word when he’d pulled one from under the Maid-Rite.

  “I’m investigating a murder and one of these shovel handles may or may not come into play. Don’t know yet. What I do know is that a CCC boy got in a fistfight with the victim Friday night.”

  Baker, who had been absently tapping a pencil on the desk, halted it in midair. “You’re sure?”

  “A couple of witnesses have told us so, but that’s why I’m here. To talk to the fellow. You didn’t hear anything about this?”

  Baker rubbed his face. “No, I did not. And there will be hell to pay because no one reported it. Everyone here knows they have to toe the line. That’s the first thing we drill on.”

  “You get a couple hundred young men thrown together, it’s bound to happen,” Temple said.

  Baker rested his forehead in his palm, eyes closed. “Who got killed?”

  “Traveling rainmaker by the name of Roland Coombs.”

  “Do you have the CCCer’s name?”

  “Just the first. Carmine.”

  Baker pulled out a file drawer and flipped through the tabs while he talked. “Carmine DiNapoli. He’s one of the new intakes. Arrived July 15. Think he’s from . . .” He tugged out a manila folder and flipped it open. “Kansas City. Age nineteen. Before joining the CCC he’d been delivering groceries. Says here he completed his sophomore year then quit school to help support his family.” Baker glanced up. “At least every other one of our boys have dropped out to work. The other half got told to leave home by their ma or pa—some nicely, some not—because the family couldn’t afford to feed them.”