Husband and Wives

by Susan Rogers Cooper

  ‘Then answer his fucking questions!’ she shouted.

  ‘Of course, yes, no problem . . .’ Earl stammered.

  ‘Who killed Mary Hudson?’ I asked him.

  ‘I don’t know!’ he said.

  ‘Who killed Mary Hudson?’ I asked again.

  ‘I don’t know! Really . . .’

  ‘Why would they do it?’ I asked, getting up close in his face.

  ‘Who? What?’ he said, cringing back in the chair.

  ‘Why would someone kill Mary? What did she know?’

  Brother Earl pulled up his shoulders, like a turtle trying to hide in his shell. ‘I don’t know, Sheriff, honest I don’t. I never talked to the woman. But maybe one of my wives . . .’ he said, his face showing how eager he was to throw his wives to the wolves – namely me and Nita.

  ‘Keep him here,’ I said to Nita, and headed for the trailer.

  ‘Now wait, Sheriff! This is a house of God and this heathen mud woman is cussing and just being here—’

  ‘It’s OK, Sheriff,’ Nita said as I headed for the door. ‘Me and Earl here are gonna be just fine.’

  And I didn’t doubt it one bit.

  Nita Skitteridge – Saturday

  Now I needed to rein myself in. I’d been letting loose a bit with the sheriff being there, playing up to this old geezer like I was some kind of mad woman – as opposed to mud woman. But underneath, deep down, yeah, I wanted to hurt this guy, and I knew it. And I knew I had it in me. That’s why I went to the academy instead of dental hygienist school. It’d be mean to take out my frustrations on somebody strapped down with my hands in their mouth. No, being a deputy, I got to vent my frustrations a little bit. But I had to watch it. Couldn’t let it get out of hand. Not like I knew it could. Not like it did back home that time.

  ‘Be still!’ I told the preacher, who was squirming around like he was gonna make a break for it. ‘You want me to tie you up?’

  ‘I’m gonna have your badge!’ he shouted.

  I took it off my breast pocket and handed it to him. ‘Whatcha gonna do with it?’ I asked him.

  He threw my badge on the floor. That kind of disrespect – not for me in particular, but for what the badge represents – well, that just got all over me.

  ‘What do you call yourself, preacher?’ I asked him. ‘Are you the Right Reverend Earl Mayhew, or are you Father Earl Mayhew, or are you Pastor Earl Mayhew, or are you just that Jackass Earl Mayhew? Now which do you want me to call you?’ I asked, my voice all sweetness and light like I can do.

  ‘I want to go to my house,’ he said.

  ‘No can do, Jackass Earl Mayhew. I hope you don’t mind, I picked for you,’ I said.

  ‘You evil mud woman! You’re dark as the night! You’re evil like the hounds of hell!’

  I looked at my skin. ‘No, sir, now I see myself more of a mocha-chocolate than a dark-as-night. My husband, now he’s paper-bag brown, used to get you in all sorts of nice places back in the day, being paper-bag brown. But now we people of color, we’re proud. I like my mocha-chocolate shade.’ I stuck my bare arm in front of his face. ‘Kinda pretty, don’t you think?’

  He drew back from me. ‘Get away! Don’t you touch me!’

  I couldn’t help it. I put my fingers in his hair and went, ‘Bogga-bogga!’

  He screamed and tried to stand up. After that I had to cuff him and the fun just went out of it for me. I left him cuffed to the metal folding chair and went outside to find someplace to wash my hands. His hair was on the greasy side.

  Milt Kovak – Saturday

  A young woman, maybe in her mid- to late-teens, opened the door of the double-wide. ‘Yes?’ she said timidly.

  ‘Are you a daughter or a wife?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m Brother Earl’s wife, Nadia,’ she said, and I noticed a slight accent. Russian? I wondered. Brother Earl getting so desperate for wives he was now shopping for ’em online? I would think the state department would frown on this kind of marriage.

  ‘I need to come in and talk to you and the other wives,’ I said.

  She let me in without a word. Russian or some other Eastern Bloc nation, I thought. Otherwise she wouldn’t have obeyed so readily.

  The door opened directly into one very large room, a quarter of which was kitchen, another quarter taken up with two large picnic-style tables, and the rest was couches and chairs around a large-screen TV. Two women were standing in the kitchen; one woman was nursing a baby in one of the chairs, the baby’s face and her breast covered with a kitchen towel; another woman sat at one of the picnic tables, a Bible spread out in front of her and a legal pad and pen beside her. Counting the one who opened the door, that made five wives. Four kids, from crawling age to about four, were playing with toys on the rug in front of the TV, which was on and blasting Thomas the Train as loud as could be.

  One of the women in the kitchen was the older woman I’d seen the last time I’d come to interview Brother Earl. I directed my first comment to her. ‘Could you turn the TV down a little?’ I asked. ‘We need to talk.’

  The older woman looked at the woman at the picnic table and nodded. The woman at the picnic table got up and went to the TV, turning down the volume. None of the children seemed to notice.

  I walked toward the kitchen and held out my hand to the older woman. She just looked at it. Finally she said, ‘I don’t touch men who are not my husband. Usually I don’t talk to men who aren’t my husband. Unfortunately you took my husband away, so I have no choice.’

  ‘You’re the first wife?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Would you tell me your name and introduce the others?’ I asked.

  ‘Lucy Mayhew,’ she said, pointing at her chest. This was the same very short woman I’d met before, her graying hair falling long down her back, her disposition unpleasant. Pointing at the woman at the picnic table, she said, ‘Margery Mayhew.’ Margery nodded her head. She was a great deal younger, at least ten years, and had very dark hair hanging to her waist. She had dark eyes and olive skin and was several inches taller than Lucy.

  Lucy pointed at the woman next to her in the kitchen, a doe-eyed blonde with very large breasts to match the rest of a full-figured body. ‘Abigail,’ Lucy said. Pointing at the nursing mother, another dark-haired and olive-skinned young woman, Lucy said, ‘Charlene, Margery’s sister. And you’ve already met Nadia.’

  ‘Could we all sit down?’ I asked.

  Lucy nodded to the other women, then said, ‘Nadia, please take the children to a bedroom.’

  Nadia hustled the children out. The baby stayed latched to its mother’s breast. The women sat down on the couches. Nadia came back and squeezed in with the other wives.

  ‘So there are five wives. How many children?’ I asked.

  ‘We have been blessed with seventeen children,’ Lucy Mayhew said.

  I asked, ‘Have there been other wives, or always just you five?’

  ‘There was a wife before me,’ Lucy said, ‘but she died in childbirth. The son she bore is now in his thirties and is a fine young man with three wives and five children. He lives in Utah.’

  ‘So how’s it work, five women in one household?’

  ‘I run this house with Abigail and our children. I only have two left at home. Abigail has three,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Whose daughter is Naomi Ruth?’ I asked.

  Lucy’s face clouded over and her head went down. ‘Mine,’ she finally said.

  ‘Has something happened between you and Naomi Ruth?’ I asked.

  Lucy straightened her shoulders and held up her head. I wasn’t going to see her shame more than once, her body language seemed to say. ‘My daughter married within the church, but soon became a heathen. Cut her hair, dresses in modern clothes, takes her children to public school, skips church at least twice a month!’ Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ve washed my hands of her.’

  ‘You don’t like her husband?’ I asked.

  ‘David is a fine man,’ she said. �
��He comes to church as often as he can, but he is weak and doesn’t seem to be able to control his wives. They do whatever they want!’

  I nodded my head. This whole lifestyle was so fascinating I had a hard time staying on track. ‘Ma’am, the reason I’m here is because Brother Earl said one of y’all might have been friendly with Mary Hudson.’ I looked around for one of them to confess to a friendship with the dead woman. None did.

  ‘Did y’all know her at all?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Lucy said. ‘But I’m not sure what my husband was referring to when he said we were friendly.’

  ‘Did any of y’all talk to her?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Lucy said. ‘The women of the church meet together quite often. We sit together during service and have our women’s meetings and cook and clean together at the church. So we all saw each other while doing our church chores and such.’

  I looked pointedly at Abigail, the one who appeared closest in age to Mary Hudson. ‘Abigail, how well did you know Mary?’ I asked.

  Abigail looked at Lucy, not answering me. Lucy said, ‘Sister Abigail knew her as well as the rest of us.’

  I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this bunch and I knew it. I changed tactics. ‘Whose son is Earl Jr?’ I asked.

  No one answered. ‘Mrs Lucy,’ I said. ‘Is Earl Jr your son?’

  ‘Yes, and please refer to me as Mrs Mayhew.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Mayhew. Could you tell me where Earl Jr is at the moment?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Is he here in the compound?’ I asked.

  She was silent. Damn, I wish I had a search warrant, I thought. ‘Is he in the other trailer?’ I asked.

  No one answered.

  ‘Mrs Nadia Mayhew, please take me over to your trailer,’ I said, going for the weak one. Hell, that’s what you do.

  Nadia stood up and headed for the back of the double-wide.

  ‘Nadia, no!’ Lucy said emphatically.

  Nadia stopped in her tracts.

  ‘Mrs Mayhew, are you trying to impede my investigation?’ I asked.

  ‘Where’s your warrant, Sheriff? And, lest you forget, this is not your county.’

  I shook my head. ‘Y’all aren’t being forthcoming with me. I feel like one of y’all knew this woman better than the others and y’all are stonewalling me. And I know you know where Earl Jr is. I don’t like that. Somebody killed that woman, and when people aren’t forthcoming, when people try to stonewall me, well, it makes me think something hinky is going on. So tell me, Sister Lucy, since you seem to speak for this sisterhood, what kinda hinky are y’all up to?’

  Sister Lucy stood up and pointed at the door. ‘Sheriff, it’s time you left,’ she said.

  I was getting pissed. ‘Well, I ain’t leaving alone!’ I walked out the door and called the shop. When Holly answered, I said, ‘Send someone over here to Tejas County with the van. I’m bringing in the lot of ’em!’

  It’s true. Sometimes I overreact. I had to leave one wife with the children or have children’s services come pick ’em up, so I left the nursing one. But even so, I had me a crowd. To even try to comply with the county regs on separating the sexes in jail cells, I had to put all the women in one and Brother Earl in one by himself. Hardly seemed right. The women didn’t have very much room. Holly and I carried in some straight-back chairs so there’d be enough seating for all. Least we could do. Least I could do. I’m the one who started this debacle. I called Bill Williams and told him what I’d done.

  ‘Shit, Milt! Why’d you do that?’ he said.

  ‘Hell if I know, Bill. That Sister Lucy was getting on my last nerve, wouldn’t tell me anything, and I couldn’t find Junior.’

  ‘Shit, Buddy? He’s a piece of work,’ Bill said.

  ‘Could you find him for me and hold him? I’ll let his mama and the rest of ’em go if I can get his ass in here.’

  ‘You got the preacher?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ I laughed. ‘My deputy Nita Skitteridge had a grand old time with him.’

  ‘She the lady of color?’ he asked.

  ‘One and the same. Seems Brother Earl has a problem with what he calls “mud people.”’

  ‘Yeah, saw that once in town. Called one of our councilmen, Bennie Charleston, a mud person. Thought Bennie was going to take him down.’

  ‘Anyway, call me when you find Buddy, OK?’ I pleaded.

  ‘Not going to be a priority, Milt. Got my own shit going on here. But if we find him, I’ll call ya.’

  I got off the phone and was sitting in my office wondering why I’d pulled such a dumb stunt when David Bollinger walked in, followed closely by Holly.

  ‘Sheriff! I tried to stop him,’ Holly said.

  At the same time, Bollinger was saying, ‘Milt, what in the Sam Hill are you doing?’

  I stood up and waved Holly away. ‘It’s OK, Holly,’ I said. ‘I got this.’

  She left and I pointed at a chair for Bollinger. ‘Have a seat, David,’ I said.

  It took a second, but he finally sat. ‘I mean, really,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t start. I’m beating myself up enough about it. But your father-in-law is a real pain in the ass, David.’

  He laughed. ‘Um, true. But we must honor our fathers and mothers, Milt.’

  ‘Not when they’re dumb shits,’ I countered.

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t remember seeing that in my Bible. I think even dumb shits must be honored, if for no other reason than they brought us into this life.’

  ‘You’re a more generous man than me, Counselor.’

  Bollinger stood up. ‘You want to set bail or can I just take them all home?’

  ‘You know where your brother-in-law is?’ I asked.

  ‘Buddy? Haven’t seem him since last Sunday,’ Bollinger said.

  ‘If you see him, hold on to him, OK?’

  ‘You want me to tie him up or what?’ Bollinger asked, being sarcastic.

  ‘That would be nice,’ I said, standing up and heading for the door. It was time to end this. ‘I had to use the police van to get ’em all here.’

  ‘I’ve got my wife’s minivan out there,’ Bollinger said.

  ‘Which one?’ I asked.

  ‘Which minivan?’ he asked, frowning.

  ‘No, son. Which wife?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Probably not,’ I replied.

  I’d barely released the lot of ’em before Holly got a call and said, ‘Sheriff, it’s Sheriff Williams from Tejas County.’

  Being still in the reception area, I took Holly’s phone. ‘Bill?’ I said.

  ‘Got him,’ he said.

  ‘Buddy? No shit?’

  ‘No shit. He was disturbing the peace at a little place here we call Joe’s.’

  ‘I know the joint. You got him in lock-up?’

  ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘I’m sending someone to get him.’

  ‘Over and out,’ Bill said.

  Jean Mcdonnell – Saturday

  John and I went up to ICU the next morning to check on Rachael and Melissa, but they weren’t there. My initial reaction was a racing pulse and rising blood pressure, until the nurse told me they’d been transferred to the general medical floor, two floors down, because Rachael was doing so much better. I asked for and got the room number, went down to the second floor and found room 210. Mother and daughter were both sitting up in bed and smiling. When we got totally into the room, I found out the reason for the smiles: Roy Donley was sitting in a recliner across from them.

  ‘Hi, all,’ I said as we entered.

  ‘Hey, Doc,’ Roy greeted, and the other two said hello. ‘And who’s this fine-looking fella with you?’ he asked, holding out his hand to John.

  ‘John, this is Mr Donley who’s helping your daddy,’ I said.

  John took Roy’s hand and shook. ‘Nice to meet you, sir,’ he said.

  ‘You’re back?’ I said to Roy.
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  ‘Yes’m. The McKinseys got out of jail around nine this morning. The chief told me they were going up before the judge around then, and I figured they’d get out, so I came on up here around eight to get set up and found them being moved down here. So everything’s copasetic.’

  I saw Melissa wave tentatively to John, who walked over to her bed. After whispering together for about a minute or two, John crawled into Melissa’s hospital bed and Melissa turned the TV to Cartoon Network, the volume turned low while the grown-ups talked.

  I couldn’t help noticing the ease with which Roy Donley and Rachael conversed. They seemed like old friends rather than new acquaintances. Although friends might be a rather tame word for what might be going on there.

  Fifteen minutes later, as John and I were saying goodbye, Carol Anne Hudson stuck her head in the room. ‘Good morning,’ she called out. We all greeted her back. ‘Rachael, I want you to know this was a unanimous decision by your children and I had nothing to do with it. It was all their idea; I just carried it out to the best of my ability.’

  ‘What in the world?’ Rachael said, laughing.

  Carol Anne stepped back and Rachael’s four other children, June and Samantha and Matthew and Luke, came in the room. All four with shaved heads.

  Rachael burst into tears, laughing and crying at the same time. Melissa jumped down from her bed, rubbing the heads of her siblings. ‘Cool, huh?’ she said.

  Rachael pulled her youngest, Samantha, into her bed. ‘Your beautiful blonde hair!’

  ‘We all wanted to look just like you, Mama!’ she said.

  Rachael pulled June to her and kissed her dome. ‘You have a beautifully shaped head, Junie,’ she said. ‘I noticed that when you were born.’

  She pulled the kids to her one at a time, kissing their bald heads. ‘You are the best children any mother ever had,’ she said.

  ‘You say that now, but wait till we don’t clean our rooms – you’ll be singing another tune!’ Matthew said.

  She swatted at his backside but he was too quick for her. ‘You bet I will. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, you little heathen!’

  ‘Mama!’ Samantha said. ‘You sound just like Miss Emily!’

  Everyone stopped laughing and looked at the youngest child. Melissa spoke up. ‘Mama just used Emily’s favorite word to call us, that’s all. But Emily’s going to prison, huh, Mr Roy?’