Hell With the Lid Blown Off (26 page)

I could see Wallace and Coleman Welsh over around beside the house, cutting up cottonwood branches and piling them in the back of a wagon. There was a buggy parked by the front porch, so I figured Miz MacKenzie had company. I was disappointed that I probably wasn't going to get to see Ruth, but I figured it was just as well that I didn't have to go into the house where Miz MacKenzie could hear this. I didn't relish the notion of having to take Wallace to jail with his grandma dragging on his leg all the way. Coleman straightened up and waved at me as I dismounted.

When I said his name, Wallace turned around and gave me the once over. “Hello, Trent. Come to join the construction crew?”

“I come to ask you about Jubal Beldon,” I said.

He didn't bat an eye. He threw another limb into the wagon. “I hear he's dead.”

I shot a glance at Coleman, who had stopped sawing and was listening to this exchange like his life depended on it. “Coleman,” I said, “would you give us a minute, please?”

I could tell he didn't want to do it. He looked at Wallace, who said, “Stay if you want, Coleman. I got nothing to hide.”

I didn't care. I went on. “All right then. Yes, Wallace, Jubal is dead. And I hear that you and Wakefield drove out to his place looking for him before you set out for Muskogee on Sunday night.”

Wallace stopped tossing limbs and turned back around at that. He gave me a long look before he answered. “We did, but nothing came of it. Jubal wasn't there, so we left and went to Dad's. As you know.”

“Why did you go out there, Wallace?”

He looked down, and then up again. “I intended to give him a piece of my mind.”

“About what?”

“You were at the picnic. You saw the little set-to that occurred between us. It niggled at me, and I took a notion to let him know it before we left town. But when we discovered he wasn't home, Randal pointed out that in my state of mind it was just as well that I missed him. So we took off for Muskogee.”

“And you never saw Jubal again?”

“I swear I did not,” Wallace assured me.

I fell to thinking for a second. I was new to this interrogation business and didn't quite know what to say next. I glanced at Coleman. He looked quite diverted by the situation. Finally I came out with, “I'll tell Scott what you said. The circuit judge will be through here in a couple of days, so I'd advise y'all not to leave town until Scott says you can.”

Wallace nodded. “I have no plans to go anywhere for the next couple of days, anyway. Why does Scott care if we made a detour before we left town?”

I wasn't sure how much I could tell them. “He has his reasons. He suspects that Jubal had a run-in with somebody on Sunday night that may have led to his death.”

“Deputy,” Wallace said, “Sheriff Tucker must not take his suspicion too seriously if he sent the likes of you out to question me. Is he trying to create a crime where none exists? Or is this your idea? Why is he not here himself?”

I heaved a sigh. Nobody could annoy me like Wallace
MacKenzie. Wallace and Coleman listened in open-mouthed silence as I related how Hosea Beldon got shot dead and Scott sustained a wound that put me in charge of this investigation.

When I finished my tale they looked at one another, then at me, before Coleman finally piped up. “Why on earth do you think Hosea did it, Deputy? Do you think he killed his brother?”

“Maybe he did. Why else try to kill a lawman who ain't even accused you of anything yet?”

“It sounds like Hosea did think the sheriff was accusing him,” Coleman pointed out.

“If Scott thinks Jubal's death was unnatural, surely after what Hosea did you need look no further for your culprit,” Wallace said.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “Their ma said they were always at each other about something. Though knowing Jubal, if y'all did run across him it could have turned into a killing matter real easy.”

“Well, it didn't, Deputy.” Wallace pushed a hank of his yellow hair back off his forehead. “It didn't because Randal and I never saw him again that evening. We did not stab him because we did not meet him on the road or anywhere else. I will swear it before the judge or God himself.”

I never had a high opinion of Wallace MacKenzie. I thought he was a silly creature. But the look in his eyes when he said that to me was arrow straight. I believed him. That is until I was turning to go and it dawned on me that I hadn't said a word to Wallace about Jubal getting stabbed.

Alafair Tucker

Beckie sat in one of the two armchairs in the parlor and Alalfair sat in the other with Grace in her lap. They could hear the sound of scales being played by one of Ruth's students in the drawing room. Marva had left Coleman to his job and was banging around in the kitchen. The common, homey sounds were comforting.

For a while she and Beckie talked of the ordinary things. How long it would be before the storm damage was repaired. Who had died and who was wounded and who had lost everything and was moving on. Which of Beckie's students had resumed taking piano lessons. Ruth's budding friendship with Trent Calder. Everything, Alafair noticed, except Beckie's usual favorite topic—her grandson.

Beckie listened dumbstruck while Alafair told her how Hosea Beldon had tried to cut Scott's throat and ended up with a hole in his chest. Beckie was properly shocked by the information, so Alafair took some time to reassure her that Scott wasn't hurt very badly. They spent a few moments speculating on why Hosea would have done such a thing.

“It could have been him who killed Jubal,” Alafair offered.

There was an inordinately long silence while Beckie digested this information. “I do declare,” she murmured. “I do declare.”

Alafair shifted a drowsing Grace to a more comfortable position. “Scott can't be sure, though.”

“Well, no, if Hosea didn't admit to it. But why else would he do such an awful thing?”

“I'm not so sure, either,” Alafair ventured. “Scott thinks there are more people than Hosea who had reason to kill Jubal Beldon, and until they are all cleared, he intends to continue to pursue the matter.”

Beckie's pale blue eyes regarded her thoughtfully. “Alafair, I wish you would stop beating around the bush. I do believe you are trying to say something to me.”

Alafair's eyes widened. So much for trying to be subtle. “Yes, ma'am. I hope you will forgive me for not being straight with you in the first place, but I do not relish being the bearer of unwelcome news. But what I was so delicately building up to is this; I'm afraid that Wallace is one of the suspects. At first I couldn't imagine what reason Wallace, more than anyone else, would have to kill Jubal. But I wonder if Jubal knew something…some hurtful information about Wallace and aimed to use it to his own advantage.”

Beckie listened to this with no apparent emotion. “What information?”

Alafair hesitated before answering. “I don't know.”

Beckie smiled, but her eyes were filled with sadness. “You are trying to spare my feelings. I appreciate it. However, I see that the wicked truth about my grandson will be known, no matter how one tries to keep it secret.” She took a sip from her teacup before placing it carefully on the side table. She sat back and clasped her hands in her lap. “Alafair, what would you do if you found out something awful about one of your bairns?”

“Well, I've been so lucky up to now that I kind of expect to, one of these days.”

“No, I mean something really horrible. Is there anything one of them could do that you could not forgive? Anything so bad that would make you stop loving them?”

Alafair was shocked at the question. She stroked Grace's hair, soft, warm, and dark as a starless night, and the child snuggled up with her head on her mother's heart. How could she not love her little fairy girl with a direct connection to heaven? “Surely you're joking, Miz Beckie. There isn't anything they could do that'd make me stop loving my children.”

“I'm serious. Have you ever really thought about it? Is there any unforgivable sin that would make you disown one of your babies? Even something perverted and sick?”

Perverted and sick? So Miz Beckie was aware of the rumor about Wallace and Randal. Did she believe it? And even if it was true, Alafair could understand if Beckie wanted to protect her grandson from going to prison. But she could never understand if Beckie had stopped caring for him because of who he chose to love. Alafair considered what she could say to ease the older woman's heart.

“No, there isn't anything they could do that would make me disown them. I think sometimes about the news reports of young German soldiers stabbing little Belgian babies with their bayonets. Those boys have mamas. What if one of my boys did something like that?” She paused. Goose flesh rose on her arms, and she scrubbed at them with her hands. “I think I might chase him down to hell to get him back, because he'd sure be in hell. I'd trail him clean to the end of the world and besiege him until he repented. I'd spend the rest my life helping him to atone for his sins. Even if I learned that one of my young'uns was Satan himself, I couldn't help but still love them. Love ain't something that can be turned on and off.”

Without warning, Beckie burst into tears. “My boy, my boy,” she sobbed. “I love him more than anything in this life, Alafair.”

Alafair reached across the space between the armchairs to grasp Beckie's hand. “I know. I know you do.”

“He's the most wonderful boy, Alafair. How could he be so good, and yet indulge in such despicable behavior? How could God let it happen? How could God let it happen? I'm so ashamed, and yet I love him so.”

Alafair wasn't sure what Miz Beckie was talking about. The rumor about Wallace and Randal or something much worse? “Miz Beckie, Scott knows that Wallace and his friend went out to the Beldon farm looking to confront Jubal before they left town on Sunday night. Miz Beldon told him so. She also said that Jubal wasn't there and Wallace left unsatisfied. Now Scott is wondering if the boys met by accident on the road and something passed between them that led to Jubal's death.”

Beckie blinked at Alafair through her tears. “Scott truly suspects Wallace of murder?”

“I think he does.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Alafair dear. Wallace didn't kill that horrid Jubal Beldon. Wallace wouldn't squash a flea.”

“Miz Beckie, did Wallace confess to you after he got to Muskogee? Is that why he came back, because he knew he had nothing to fear from Jubal anymore? Trent told us how it must have happened. It sounds like his killer lashed out without thinking. I know he didn't mean it.”

Beckie's expression was one of horror and disbelief. She tried to withdraw her hand from Alafair's grasp, but Alafair wouldn't let go. There was no getting away from the truth. “There is no way anyone can prove that Wallace did such a thing, Alafair Tucker. He didn't do such a thing. He couldn't!”

Beckie stood up, and Alafair followed suit with a sleep-befogged Grace clinging to her neck. Alafair spoke quickly before the older woman had a chance to escape. “Miz Beckie, I think Mr. Eichelberger knows who did it. Just this morning he confessed to me that after Jubal left the roadhouse on Sunday night he came to try and extort money from Mr. and Miz Eichelberger. I think Jubal met his end on the road in front of their farm and I think Mr. Eichelberger saw the whole thing.”

Trenton Calder

It was Wallace MacKenzie who stabbed Jubal Beldon that night. All at once I was sure of it. Everything fit. Him and Jubal were both on the road that night, and Wallace admitted that he was looking for a fight. And on the day of the picnic—the day Jubal died—Wallace had shown up in that ridiculous get up with a knife stuck in his sock. That little blade could easily have made the wound Scott described on both Jubal's leg and on his horse.

But why? Wallace didn't strike me as somebody who cared what folks thought about him. Maybe Jubal had something bad on his grandma. Something that would shame Miz Beckie before the whole town. And whatever his faults, I don't think Wallace would let that happen. Or maybe it had something to do with his friend Randal who seemed to stick to him like flypaper.

The memory of that conversation I had had with Ruth fell on me like a boulder. Is that why she was asking me about sodomites?

Lord have mercy! If that was it, no wonder Wallace killed him.

When I turned back around, Wallace must have seen something in my face. He took a step back and nearly stumbled over a cottonwood branch.

I laid my hand on my pistol butt. The incident with Hosea was fresh on my mind. “I don't think you're telling me the truth, Wallace. I think you and your friend did meet Jubal that night. I think Jubal threatened you with ruination and you made sure he didn't have the chance to carry out his threat.”

I expected Wallace to look scared or guilty or take off running or something, but he snorted. “Calder, as far as I know, Jubal Beldon threatened half the people in town.”

“Does that include you and your friend Randal Wakefield?”

His eyes narrowed. He didn't answer. Coleman Welsh knew he was witnessing something he didn't want to get involved in and backed off a ways.

“Wallace,” I said, “I know that Beldon was a skunk. If he thought he knew about you what I suspect he did, he'd have used it against you for sure, and got great pleasure out of seeing you ruined and your whole family to boot.”

Wallace looked away.

“Was it you or your friend plunged that little Scotch knife into Jubal's horse?”

Wallace MacKenzie heaved a great sigh. “Deputy” he said, “Randal had nothing to do with it. I don't want my grandmother upset if it can be helped. Let's leave quietly.” He beckoned to Coleman. “When my grandma asks, tell her that I've gone to get more supplies and may spend the night in town.”