Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (47 page)

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Authors: With Hope

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
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“I’m glad. So glad.”
“I’m taking you home before I lose control of my senses.” He took his arm from around her and started the car. “Just wait, girl,” he teased. “I’ll get even with you for what you’ve done to me tonight.”
“And what is that? I know about the birds and the bees,” she teased.
He moved the hand on his thigh to nudge the hardness between his legs.
“A bird or a bee doesn’t have . . . that.”
“They must have . . . that, or there’d not be little birds and little bees.”
“They don’t need to pour a bucket of well water over their heads to cool them off before they can go to sleep.”
“Is that what you’ll do?”
“It’ll not do much good. I’ve been in this condition every night since I met you.”
“Oh, poor Tom. I know how to end that . . . torment.” Her whisper was soft and seductive.
Tom put his foot on the brake and stopped the car in the middle of the road.
“Come here, woman. You’re going to have to learn that backtalk won’t be tolerated in this family.” He kissed her long and hard.

 

Chapter Twenty-five
Johnny heard Tom’s car leave the farm and knew that Henry Ann was with him. He came down from the attic room, went out onto the back stoop, and headed for the outhouse.
“P-s-s-t! P-s-s-t!”
Johnny dropped into a crouch and spun around, his eyes searching the darkness.
“Johnny, it’s me, Jude.” The boy came from behind a patch of hollyhocks that shielded the privy from the house. “I was ’bout to knock on the door. Thank God you came out.”
“Jude! Mother of Christ! You scared hell out of me, considering what’s happened. How’d you get here?”
“On Pete’s horse. I need your help, Johnny. You don’t believe Pete killed that woman, do you?”
“I didn’t think so, but I’m not the sheriff.”
“He found Mrs. Dolan’s comb on our porch, Johnny. I’ve got to find out who killed her, or they’ll hang Pete just ’cause he’s a Perry.”
“The sheriff is a fair man. I can’t say as much for his deputy.”
Jude snorted with disgust. “Orlan has been taking a payoff from Hardy to turn a blind eye to his and Pete’s bootlegging. Pete isn’t lily-white, but he’d not kill a woman. A man maybe, but not a woman.”
“I don’t know what I can do to help you, Jude.”
“What else did that woman have in her hidey place? Would she have had a mirror and a long string of green glass beads?”
“Yeah. It’s what Tom told the sheriff she had. Some ribbons, garters, bows for her hair, too. Yeah, and he said that she had a little blue bottle of perfume.”
“Ah . . .”
“What’a you mean by that?”
“Nothing. How about drawers?”
“Underpants? I’ve not heard anything about underpants.”
“Well . . . thanks, Johnny.”
“Jude! Wait! What do you know about those things?”
“I needed to know if she had taken anything to the river beside the pink comb. I got to get back to Hardy. He’s about crazy with worry over Pete. ’Bye, Johnny.”
Jude disappeared in the darkness, and soon Johnny heard the creak of saddle leather and then the sound of hoofbeats. He waited until he could no longer hear them, and then headed once again for the outhouse.
* * *
It was not long before it was all over town that Reverend Wesson’s daughter was going to marry the
bum
that had been working at the Henry farm. The outrage expressed by the ladies of the church changed the instant it was learned that the
bum
was a well-known, even famous attorney.
All sorts of reasons were given for Grant passing himself off as an out-of-work transient. Some had heard—from the horse’s mouth, of course—that he had lost his memory for a while. Others said that he was gathering material for a book. Still others were sure that he was in disguise while trailing a crooked federal officer.
Karen was once again the darling of the congregation. The maiden or widowed ladies gathered around and vied for the opportunity to help her with the wedding plans.
Henry Ann, on the other hand, was still held in contempt. Mrs. Austin and Mrs. Miller continued spreading their malicious gossip. Of course, it was
her
fault that Chris Austin had run away with the
whore
on Mud Creek. And it was her fault that poor Mrs. Dolan lost her mind after Mr. Dolan gave her child to Henry Ann and began his affair with her. Marty Conroy found plenty of ears willing to listen to his opinion of his former brother-in-law and the woman who stole his sister’s husband.
Hard times and the lack of hope that they would soon be better, united the people of Red Rock. Henry Ann knew that there was nothing that brought folks together faster than to be against someone. At the present time it was she and Tom Dolan they were against.
After a couple of days the talk about Pete Perry died down. After all, he was in jail over at the county seat. The marathon was about to peter out. Only three couples remained, and the talk was that the prize money would have to be paid in installments because not enough money had been raised through admissions paid by spectators.
Henry Ann’s newfound happiness with Tom and the knowledge that she loved him, and that he loved her, carried her through these heartbreaking times. She had been to town, to church, and had calmly ignored the snubs from her former friends and acquaintances. Although she felt that the talk would pass when the gossips found someone else to vilify, that didn’t make it any less hurtful.
Grant had contacted the Conroy family attorneys and had been sent a copy of Martin Conroy’s will. Emmajean’s inheritance would be placed in a trust for her son. Because of Marty Conroy’s unethical attempt to get custody of Jay, his name had been removed as administrator, and the boy’s inheritance was now controlled by the trustees. This suited Tom. He wanted no part of it.
A couple of weeks passed. The sheriff still came by the farm occasionally. To all appearances, he had given up looking for any other suspect. He seemed confident he had the killer of Mrs. Dolan locked up in his jail.
* * *
For the third day the wind blowing out of the west had carried with it the red topsoil of the plains. Strong gusts stung the faces of the men doing the chores and blew in under the doors and windowsills. At the Henry farm the house was hot, with the windows closed. On the west side of the house Aunt Dozie had laid wet cloths along the sills to catch the dust. The porch was covered with a thick layer of red dirt.
Sheriff Watson arrived just before the noon meal and was invited to stay and eat, as he knew he would be. Tom was there, and so was Johnny. Grant had not been at the farm for a few days. He had gone to Tulsa to see his mother and sister and tell them about his plans to marry Karen Wesson.
The meal of butter beans, turnip greens, fried okra, and corn bread was as good as Sheriff Watson had expected it to be. After consuming a second helping of sweet potato pie, he declared the dinner a feast.
“Thought I’d stop by and see if there was any news,” he said, after finishing off his second slice of pie.
“You mean anything else that’d tie Pete to the killing?” Johnny asked.
“Anything. Thought Dolan might have found something over at the house.”
“I poked around in the ashes and found a few things. My grandpa’s Civil War belt buckle and an iron skillet. I think the lantern on the porch was lit, then thrown into the house. That would account for the front part of the house burning first.”
“Sounds logical.”
“Emmajean would have gone out the back door; and if she was going to set fire to the house, she would have started it there. Pete Perry, if he started the fire, did a sloppy job.”
“Pete would have made sure it had a better start,” Johnny said.
“You don’t think he did it. Well, I can only go by the evidence, and so far it points to him.”
By midmorning the wind had began to die down. When the noon meal was over, it had stopped blowing, but a veil of dust hung in the air. Clucking like a mother hen, Aunt Dozie set about opening windows and wiping up dirt carried in on the wind. The others gathered on the front porch to say good-bye to the sheriff.
“Is the date set for the trial, Sheriff?” Henry Ann asked.
“Five weeks from today. Judge Foster doesn’t believe in waiting around. Phil is preparing the case against Pete. You’ll be called as a witness, Dolan. I reckon you will be, too, Johnny.”
“I’ve nothing to say against Pete,” Johnny said quickly.
“You won’t be asked to say anything against him. Only what you know.”
“What happens if I don’t show up?”
“You go to jail.”
The sheriff was on his way across the yard when two topless beat-up cars came speeding down the road. One had a front fender missing, the other the two front doors. They passed the Henry farm, then skidded to a halt and turned around.
“Who in the world?” Henry Ann exclaimed.
“Looks to be about all of Mud Creek,” Johnny said drily. “Half of them anyway.”
The first car pulled in behind the sheriff’s, blocking him in.
“Sheriff,” Jude Perry called, “we were on our way to see you.”
Tom, Henry Ann, and Johnny moved out into the yard, their eyes on the occupants of the car and the one behind it. The sheriff was approaching the car when Hardy Perry stood up.
“Here’s the one that killed that woman. You gotta let Pete go.”
“What the hell—” Sheriff Watson looked down to see Fat Perry, trussed up like a hog going to slaughter, wedged between the front and the backseat of the car. The old lady in the front seat began to wail.
“Fat did it. We got proof, Sheriff.” Jude was more calm than his daddy. He motioned to the women in the car driven by his cousin Wally. They got out and came to stand beside him. “He gave the mirror to Sudie Howell, she’s Cousin Wally’s cousin on the other side.” Sudie bobbed her head up and down.
“He gave some of the hair bows to Betty Joy and the glass beads to Peggy. They all had to promise to let him diddle with them. None did, but Peggy.” She appeared to be old enough to be the mother of the girls. “She said he had a hair ribbon tied around his balls and pecker with a bow in front. Can you beat that, Sheriff? Did you ever hear of anything so nasty? It’s enough to make me want to puke.”
“Yeah. Make ya puke,” Peggy repeated, feeling her importance.
“He owned up to it.” Hardy’s angry shout broke in. “He was goin’ to let Pete take the blame.”
“From the looks of him,” the sheriff said, eyeing Fat’s swollen face and split lip, “someone persuaded him to own up to it.”
“Yo’re goddamn right. He was lucky I didn’t kill him. He put that comb on the porch hopin’ to get blame put on Pete.”
“One day he came over smelling like a rose garden and I got to wondering where he got the perfume.” Jude took a blue bottle and a pair of drawers out of his pocket and gave them to the sheriff. “I followed Fat. He went into a shed. I saw him get out a pair of women’s drawers, smell them, and rub them on his face. Then he hid them and the bottle; but after I found out he’d given the girls this other stuff, I went back to the shed and got them.”
“You’re quite a detective, Jude.”
“I knew Pete hadn’t done it.”
“Well, get that fat fart outta there, Hardy.”
“Ohhhh . . . My boy! My po . . . or boy!”
“Who’s that?”
“Fat’s mama. She thinks we’re picking on Fat.”
“Natural feelings of a mama.”
Hardy had pulled Fat out of the car and onto the ground. The man’s feet were tied as well as his hands behind his back. A rag was stuffed in his mouth. The sheriff helped him to stand and pulled out the gag. The fat man began to cry.
“What do you have to say, Fat?”
“They . . . made me say . . . I did it—”
“But did you kill that woman?”
“I . . . I . . .”
Tom stepped up and pulled the tobacco pouch and papers from Fat’s bib pocket.
“The butts I found out there were from this kind of cigarette paper and this kind of tobacco. You took her to that shed on Austin’s land, didn’t you? You raped her and hit her that night. I wish Hardy had beat you to death. It’s what you deserve for taking advantage of that mindless woman.”
“I didn’t rape her. She wanted me to do it. Pulled up her dress, opened her legs—”
“She was out of her mind, you son of a bitch!”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her. Ever’body on Mud Creek had a woman but me. Nobody’d let me. Ever time I asked, they laughed.” As the words poured out of Fat his voice became smothered with sobs. “She was prettier than any woman they had . . . ’cepts Pete. I warn’t goin’ to hurt her,” he repeated. “She kept . . . yellin’ and yellin’. I told her to hush up, but she wouldn’t and . . . had to make her hush—”

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