Dead to the World (11 page)
Authors: Susan Rogers Cooper
1943–1946
The baby was born at the end of summer. A dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl. Lupita’s mother had delivered the baby in her hut in the village. Edgar had stayed in the forest, as it was still viewed as unsafe to venture outside its confines. Lupita came to him the next day, carrying the swaddled newborn in her arms, and presented her prize to her husband.
Edgar looked at the baby then up at Lupita. To him the kid looked like a dark-haired Winston Churchill. All she needed, he thought, was a cigar. ‘Nice,’ he finally said.
Lupita cocked her head and he said, ‘Good. You done good.’
She smiled. ‘You name?’ she asked.
‘Me?’ he said, pointing at his chest.
She nodded her head vigorously.
His first thought was to name the baby after his mother, then he came up with a brainstorm. How funny would it be to let his old man know that he, Edgar, had a child and it was named after dear old dad? And then tell him it was a girl! His old man would shit a brick! And so Clayton Marie Hutchins came to be.
With the meat Edgar brought to the clearing for the village his daughter thrived, and by the time she was three, Lupita was pregnant yet again. Edgar hoped for a son, but wasn’t sure what he would do with one. He was still living in the forest while his so-called wife and child lived in the village. Everybody – all the women of the village – knew he was there, but they all kept silent when the Japanese raided the village. And for this, Edgar, who really didn’t understand the concept of gratitude, did know you paid for what you got. And an occasional warty pig or civet cat was a small price to pay for his life. He saw Lupita a couple of nights a week, and Clayton Marie one day a week. Even with so little time together, she was certainly picking up English, as was her mother. One night, when she’d become more fluent speaking English, Lupita mentioned a fear. ‘What if Clayton Marie speaks your English when the Japs are around?’
He’d taught her to say Japs and was quite happy she’d picked it up. He hoped it would catch on throughout the village. ‘I dunno,’ he said, in answer to her question. ‘So what?’
‘They might kill her.’
He just looked at her. ‘Why?’ he finally asked.
‘Because she speak your English! No one of us speak your English! At least, not around the Japs!’
‘Well, tell her not to talk English to the Japs!’ Edgar said, irritated that this was taking time away from him getting laid.
‘She do, Japs burn whole village,’ Lupita said. ‘Then they come look for you.’
‘How would they know about me?’
She shrugged. ‘She learn your English somewhere, huh?’
Edgar sighed. ‘Well, what in the hell do you want me to do about it?’
Lupita bowed her head. ‘You take Clayton Marie with you here. She stay with you, not in village. All mothers say so.’
‘What the fuck?’ Edgar all but yelled. ‘Those old witches are throwing my baby girl out of the village?’
A tear rolled down Lupita’s cheek. ‘They scared,’ she said.
‘Yeah, well how about no more meat, huh? How’d they like them apples?’ he shouted.
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. ‘They tell Japs, if no meat. They come get you. And Clayton Marie too.’
Edgar was pacing now, back and forth around the hot springs. ‘How in the hell am I supposed to take care of that girl? She’s practically a baby.’
‘I know!’ Lupita said, her eyes big with surprise. ‘I come too. We live here in forest with daddy.’ She grinned big. And Edgar realized he’d just been had. She’d been bucking to move to the forest with him for over a year, and he’d said no. Now she’d mixed lies with a little bit of truth, or maybe truth with a little bit of lies, but he didn’t dare test to see which. So Lupita and Clayton Marie moved into his camp site, bringing her mother along. Just until the new baby was born, Lupita promised him.
It would be another year before Edgar learned that the Japanese had surrendered almost two years before.
T
he inside of the Peaceful municipal building was as generic as its outside. Signs in the small lobby indicated which way to the various offices. The second floor appeared to house the offices of the city manager, the mayor, the fire marshal and the judges’ chambers (or maybe just judge’s chambers. Would they need more than one judge in a town this small? I had no idea). An arrow pointed to the court itself down a hall toward the back of the building. The police department was right up front. You couldn’t miss it.
Willis and I went in. Mary Mays was in a bullpen behind a counter cordoned off with what appeared to be bulletproof glass. Another woman sat at the small window that had a speaker system and a small hole at the bottom to receive, I suppose, payments for tickets and such. This woman was much older than Mary, probably in her late fifties or early sixties, wearing the same uniform as Mary. Her hair was a tightly permed gray helmet, and her lack of a smile didn’t bode well.
‘Yes?’ she said.
‘We’d like to speak to Chief Cotton, please,’ Willis said.
‘Regarding what?’ the woman asked.
‘The murder at the Bishop’s Inn,’ he said.
‘I’m sure he has nothing more to report at this time,’ the woman said and reached over to shut off the mic.
I got in quickly and hollered, ‘Mary! Remember us?’
Since she’d already checked us out and ignored us, I was afraid of what response I was going to get. The response from the woman manning the counter wasn’t good. She glared at me and off went the mic. But then I saw Mary Mays heave a great sigh and get up from her desk. She walked to the counter, leaned over the woman seated there and turned the mic back on. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘We’d like to talk to the chief,’ I said.
‘He’s busy,’ she said.
‘Then how about you? Could we talk to you for just a moment?’
She sighed again, said, ‘I guess,’ turned off the mic and buzzed the door to the side of the counter open and came out into the waiting area. There were several chairs, but the entire waiting area was empty of any humanity other than the three of us.
‘Sit,’ she said, indicating the chairs. Willis and I sat. She loomed over us, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. ‘What do you want?’
‘Ah, we just wondered if there was any progress on the case? We have children at home we need to get back to,’ I said and smiled.
‘We don’t discuss ongoing investigations,’ she said. ‘We’ll let you know when you can leave town.’ And with that she turned, flipped the other woman a hand signal of some kind and I heard the door click open.
So maybe it wasn’t my smartest move. Maybe she’d pissed me off. Maybe I’m a complete idiot. Any of those things, and many more, may have been the cause of what happened next. Officer Mays pushed the door open, not knowing I was directly behind her. In a flash, I was inside the inner sanctum.
‘What the hell?’ Mary said as she twirled around.
‘I really need to talk to the chief,’ I said. Through the small window at the counter, I could see my husband, still sitting in his chair, his hands over his eyes, his body shaking. He was either crying or laughing. I’m not sure which.
‘I told you he’s busy! I should arrest your ass right now!’ she said. Her voice had risen, which was probably the reason a door opened and Chief Cotton’s form appeared.
‘Mary, what’s going on?’ he asked. Seeing me, he nodded and said, ‘Miz Pugh, right?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I said. ‘I just wanted—’
‘I was talking to her and her husband in the waiting room, and told her we didn’t discuss open cases! And then she just pushed in behind me!’ Mary said in what I deemed to be an overly agitated voice.
‘Miz Pugh, why don’t you wait in my office. Mary, go get Mr Pugh, if he’s still in the waitin’ room.’
‘But—’ she started.
The chief sighed. ‘Just do it, Officer!’ he said.
I smiled to myself as I headed into the office the chief had so recently exited. He entered shortly after me and took a seat behind his desk, indicating that I sit in the visitor’s chair. The room was small, with a fifties-style crank-out window, a desk too large for the space, two filing cabinets and a credenza. There was barely room in there to breathe. Mary Mays knocked on the door frame, with Willis behind her. ‘Mr Pugh, sir,’ she said, and was not particularly happy about it.
‘Bring in another chair for Mr Pugh, please, Officer.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, did a militaristic about-face and headed out of the room.
The chief stood and shook hands with Willis. ‘Nice to see you again, Mr Pugh, Miz Pugh,’ he said.
Then Officer Mays was back with a straight-back chair, which she set down in front of the chief’s desk. I wasn’t sure if my husband’s long legs would find any room in this tiny space.
‘Shut the door on your way out,’ the chief said to his officer. She grudgingly did so.
‘Now, Miz Pugh, you shouldn’t have done that,’ the chief said.
‘Sir?’ I asked, playing innocent.
He just stared at me, then said, ‘You know, she coulda shot you and gotten away with it. You barging in here like that.’
‘I’m just happy your officer showed some restraint,’ Willis said.
The chief laughed. ‘I don’t know if I’d call it that, Mr Pugh.’
‘Please, call me Willis,’ my husband said with a big smile.
‘Fine. Please continue to call me Chief Cotton.’
‘Of course,’ Willis said.
Feeling I’d lost the thread of why we were here, I stepped in. ‘So, Chief, we were just wondering if there’s been any progress—’
‘Can’t discuss an open case,’ he said.
‘Oh, it’s OK,’ I said, giving him my own big smile. ‘I work with the police back home all the time.’
‘You ain’t back home, ma’am,’ he said.
‘You can call Lieutenant Elena Luna with the Codderville police department. She’ll verify that I’ve worked on—’
‘Ma’am, that makes no difference. We don’t allow civilians to dick around in our cases in Peaceful. It’s just a rule we have. Ya know?’
‘My wife and I need to get home, Chief,’ Willis said. ‘We have four children that are on their own at the moment.’
‘Well, three,’ I said. ‘Graham—’
My husband gave me a look. I closed my mouth.
‘Sorry, can’t let y’all leave until we have a handle on this thing,’ the chief said.
‘What do you consider a handle?’ I asked.
‘Well, knowing who done it would be a nice thing to hold on to,’ he said.
‘Do you have any leads?’ I persisted.
He was quiet for a long moment, then said, ‘Ma’am, what part of I ain’t talking did you not understand?’
‘I really can help—’
The chief stood up. ‘Mr and Miz Pugh, I thank y’all for coming in, but I got work to do and a murder to solve, and I like to do those things without the help of civilians.’
He walked around his desk, opened the door and called out, ‘Mary! Come walk these people out.’ He turned to us. ‘You’ll be the first to know when you can go home.’ He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Well, maybe not the first. But you’ll be right up there, promise.’ And with that he shut the door basically on our butts.
BACK HOME
Once back at the house, Bess called Logan on his cell phone. ‘We talked to Harper and her mom,’ she said. ‘If you can, you might want to hold off on telling your folks about all this. Harper told Megan that you’re the father, but her mom seemed totally confused by her saying that.’ Bess had told him all this without taking a breath. She did so now, a big one. ‘Here’s the thing: we girls have decided that whoever knocked her up was someone her brother knows and he would, like, kill him or something if he found out. He probably pressured Harper to tell her who did it and she just picked you at random.’
‘She just decided to ruin my life for shits and giggles, huh?’ Logan said.
‘Well, she did tell Megan that she wasn’t going to marry you.’
‘Why not?’ Logan asked defensively.
Bess was silent. She didn’t dare tell him Harper said it would be boring married to him. That would hurt his feelings. Finally she said, ‘She didn’t really say why.’
‘Well, good, I guess. I don’t want to marry her either, obviously.’
‘I think now that Harper’s mom knows what she’s saying about you, and the fact that Tucker tried to beat you up, I think her mom’s going to get this all straightened out.’
‘Why would she care?’ Logan asked, his voice dejected.
‘Because she’s a mom!’ Bess said, as if that explained everything, and in Bess’s world it did.
‘I don’t know, Bess. I think I really need to talk to my folks.’
‘OK, and their best reaction would be what?’ she asked.
He was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘I dunno. I guess they’d believe me and be really pissed, mostly about Tucker beating on me, but by Harper lying, too. Then my dad would confront Tucker and my mom would call her mom …’
‘Worst case scenario?’
Again, Logan was quiet. Then he said, ‘My dad goes ballistic, threatens to disown me, my mom cries, and somehow this gets all over the school.’
‘Which do you think is most likely?’ she asked.
Bess could almost hear his shrug over the phone. ‘Probably something in the middle.’
‘And?’
He sighed. ‘I’m not going to tell them, all right? You’ve convinced me!’
‘No, you convinced yourself, Logan,’ Bess said in a quiet voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not blaming you. This isn’t your fault! This is my fault for ever asking that bitch out in the first place!’
‘No, it’s Harper’s fault. She’s the one telling lies.’
‘So what do I do now?’ he asked.
Bess squared her shoulders. ‘Well, my mom and dad aren’t coming home tonight after all. What time do you get off?’ she asked, and squeezed her eyes shut while she waited for a response.
‘We close at eight on Sunday,’ he said. ‘I can tell my mom I’m doing inventory or something and come over there. Maybe we can watch a movie?’
‘Sure, that sounds good,’ Bess said, barely able to contain her grin.
‘And, hey, I’ll bring some food so y’all hold dinner, OK?’
‘Will do.’
The two hung up, and Bess threw herself down on the couch and hugged herself, letting the grin spread far and wide.
The first thing I did when we got back to the Bishop’s Inn was call my friend and neighbor, Elena Luna, at her office in the Codderville Crime Prevention building. It used to just be called the police department, but a new mayor thought this sounded more officious and spent one hundred grand on changing signs, stationery and other items that used the more mundane previous name. He didn’t get re-elected but the newer mayor thought it would be unwise to spend more money turning everything back. I presume it will remain the Codderville Crime Prevention building for the foreseeable future, even though everyone still calls it the police department.
‘Lieutenant Luna,’ she said.
‘Hey, it’s me,’ I said.
‘Y’all home?’ she asked.
‘No, not exactly. We’re still in Peaceful—’
‘Still say that’s a dumb name for a town.’
‘You’ve been proven right,’ I said, then went on to explain the goings-on in not-so-peaceful Peaceful.
‘Not my jurisdiction,’ she said.
‘Of course it isn’t. The police chief here is named Rigsby Cotton and he’s not being very cooperative—’ I started but was cut short by her hoot of laughter.
When she’d stopped laughing, she said, ‘By that I suppose you mean he doesn’t seem to want your input? Like I ever did! So why don’t you just do what you always do to me? Jump in anyway and gum up the works any way you can!’
‘I’ve never gummed up the works, as you so eloquently put it,’ I said stiffly. ‘I’ve helped you in innumerable ways!’
‘Yeah? Name seven,’ she said. ‘And why exactly have you called me?’
I sighed. I was beginning to think my idea wasn’t going to work. ‘I was hoping you’d call Chief Cotton and explain what a help I’ve been—’
Again, I was stopped by yet another hoot of laughter. The woman had some serious lung power. ‘Why in the hell would I do that?’
‘To get me off your back and onto his?’ I ventured.
She was silent for a moment. I crossed my fingers in hopes that she was actually considering it. Finally, she said, ‘Nope. Can’t do it. I can’t intentionally inflict that kind of pain on another peace officer. I think I took an oath not to sic you on anyone else.’ Then she giggled – a sound I’d never heard coming from her until recently. The return of her husband from a twenty-year stint in Leavenworth had led to many changes in Luna’s attitude and behavior – most of them good.
‘Luna, Willis and I are stuck here until he solves this thing, and believe me, that’s not going to happen. The guy doesn’t have a clue. I think this may be his first murder.’
‘Huh,’ she said.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘What? Yeah, more or less.’
‘Let’s try more!’ I said. ‘We can’t leave the girls unattended much longer! Children’s services will come and take them away!’
‘I won’t let that happen. They can move in with me. I’ve always wanted a girl! It’ll be fun fixing their hair for graduation, oh, and picking out wedding dresses—’
‘Can it!’ I said with a little heat. No one was picking out wedding dresses but me! ‘Luna! I’m serious! We need help here.’
She sighed long and hard. Finally she said, ‘OK, tell me again what’s going on. Details.’
So I did.
AUGUST, 1947–NOVEMBER, 1947
He found out quite by accident. He and Lupita and Clayton Marie were at the hot spring when Clayton Marie took off, as a four-year-old is wont to do. And like most fathers – including bad ones like Edgar Hutchins – he ran after her, ending at the village. Clayton Marie ran to her grandmother, but Edgar stopped short. There were men there. Old men, young men, strong men, weak men, but they were all back. Some of them looked at him strangely; others looked at him and laughed. Why were the men back? Where were the Japs? What the hell was going on? Edgar asked himself. Then he asked out loud, ‘Speak English?’
The women were quiet but one man, maybe in his fifties or sixties – for Edgar it was hard to tell with Filipinos as they all looked alike to him – said, ‘Yes. I speak.’
‘Where are the Japs?’ Edgar asked.
The man cocked his head the way Lupita used to do. ‘The Japanese!’ Edgar shouted. ‘The fucking Japanese!’
‘They gone,’ the man said, while the women gathered to whisper and Lupita’s
mother held Clayton Marie close.
‘When?’ Edgar demanded.
The man shrugged. ‘Before last harvest,’ the man said.
He looked around him at the men gathering grains and vegetables from the fields.
‘Like a year ago?’ Edgar said, almost in a whisper.
The man cocked his head, but Edgar didn’t really need a response. He turned and stared at the old woman who held his daughter, turned and walked back into the forest.
Without a word to his wife or Clayton Marie, he gathered up a few belongings, including
the handguns he’d confiscated, and headed deeper into the forest, on his way to the stash he’d buried many years ago.
And it was still there. The thousand dollars in cash and the ivory, pearls and other gemstones he’d bought cheap in Shanghai. He pocketed it all and headed through the now dead and deserted Marine camp, not thinking at all, nostalgically or otherwise, about his time encamped there. He made his way to a port and hopped a freighter headed for San Francisco.
He used the name Don Winslow, after a character in his favorite series of boy stories from when he was a kid. No one gave it a second thought. And no one on the freighter asked for ID. He landed in San Francisco in September of 1947 and jumped ship. He spent a couple of months in that city, discovering that a thousand dollars didn’t go far, and that hocking his pearls and other gemstones didn’t bring him nearly what he had thought it would – barely more than what he’d paid for them in Shanghai.
He was almost at the point of thinking about actually getting a job, when he began to fantasize again about the treasure in the house on Post Oak Street – the house that should have been his. He’d stopped thinking about it around the same time he’d taken off from the base, the day the Japanese moved in. Trying to stay alive took up most of his thinking time. But now, broke and facing eviction from the fleabag hotel he was staying in, the fantasy came back in full force. But he was too broke to even make it to Texas. And what if he did? He knew his brother Norris wasn’t going to let him in the house. So with his last twenty bucks, he entered a poker game he’d heard about near his hotel. Two fortuitous things happened at that game: one, he won close to five hundred dollars, and two, one of the guys said, upon seeing him, ‘Jeez, you’re the spitting image of a guy I knew in the army.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Edgar said back, only being polite to someone he intended to fleece. ‘Who was that?’
‘Guy named Hutchins. Good guy. Sad to see him blown to hell on D-Day. But, shit, most of ’em were. Me? I got out of it by the skin of my teeth!’
Somebody snorted and said, ‘Gawd, Miller, we’ve heard this shit before. Let it go, fer Christ’s sake!’
So he had some money and a plan. Now that his brother was dead and not about to keep him out of the house on Post Oak Street.
