Livvie's Song (35 page)

Margie had been hysterical when Will had told her the news, but then she’d quickly gained her composure and insisted that Alex and Nathan would be better off with her. Quinn Baxter had been at the restaurant when all of this had happened, and he’d offered to take the boys to the Grants’ farm. Of course, they had gone kicking and screaming, hysterical themselves at the conversation they hadn’t been able to help but overhear. Will had hugged them both and promised to do everything in his power to bring their mother home safe and sound. Then, they’d wiped their swollen eyes and tried to be brave as they huddled together in the back of Quinn’s Model T. “You and Mommy’s all we got left, ’sides Aunt Margie and Uncle Howie,” Alex had said, sounding too somber for his eight years. It had struck Will then how very much the boys had suffered over the loss of their daddy. “I know, I know,” Will had said, wiping moisture from the corner of one of his own eyes. “Now, you two practice being brave soldiers, all right? And, remember: Jesus is with your mommy, wherever she is.”

They’d nodded in unison. “I’m gonna practice bein’ a cowboy,” Nate had muttered. “’Cause they’re brave, too.”

With a silent nod, Will had patted the innocent child on his knee, then closed the car door and stepped back. In the front seat, Reggie had been whining and acting jittery, as if he wanted to tell them something. Too bad mutts couldn’t talk. Thankfully, it seemed his only injuries were a bump on his head and a cut over one eye. Quinn planned to drop him off at Coot’s place after taking the boys out to the farm.

Will blinked and gave a hard swallow. Then, he focused steady eyes on the deputy and, speaking slowly and enunciating carefully, said, “I don’t care if the sheriff is on a trip to Australia.” He pounded his fist on the frumpy fellow’s desk to emphasize his point. “Pick up that phone and tell him there’s been a kidnapping. Olivia Beckman is missing.”

With lightning speed, the deputy plunked his coffee cup on the desk, splashing its contents all over the place, hauled his feet to the floor, and jumped to attention. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the beginning?”

Sheriff Morris arrived about ten minutes later, his shirt buttoned incorrectly and only half tucked in, his hat sitting askew on his head. He neatened his appearance while Will brought him up-to-date on the events of the evening, though he imagined it was hard to tuck in a shirt over such a blubbery belly.

“So, let me get this straight,” the sheriff said, walking to a file cabinet. He pulled open the top drawer and retrieved a folder. “She was in the restaurant, and then she wasn’t? As in, poof!—she vanished into thin air? What if she simply walked out of her own accord?”

The investigation had just begun, and already his arrogance was showing. “That’s what we’re trying to determine, Sheriff,” Will told him.

“Maybe she just left to visit someone,” he said, opening the folder and sifting through some papers, as if he’d already gathered information about the case. Will prayed for staying power. He needed the sheriff’s help, and this was no time for getting on the fellow’s bad side. Best to cooperate and put on a patient front.

“She wouldn’t just disappear like that, not when she’s got two boys who rely on her,” Howard put in. “She loves those boys more than her own life. She’s not about to go off without at least telling someone of her intentions.”

“Besides, someone thumped that poor dog on the head,” said Gus, speaking for the first time.

“That, or he got in a fight with another mongrel,” the sheriff argued.

“Those were no bite marks he had,” Will countered.

Silence filled the next thirty seconds as the sheriff’s eyes scanned a document in the folder. Will felt his patience wearing as thin as that piece of paper, and, from Howard’s shifting and Gus’s pacing, he could tell that they bore equal amounts of frustration.

“So, what’s your plan, Sheriff?” Will finally asked. “Time’s wasting.”

“I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin’,” he said. “Something’s not addin’ up.”

“What do you mean?” Howard asked.

“Well, seems to me that Will or Gus or somebody else would’ve heard some commotion if someone had come in to snatch her away. She would have screamed or fought or put up some kind of big fuss.” They all nodded, so the sheriff went on. “I’m thinkin’ she walked outside of her own free will, and, to have done that, she would’ve had to have recognized whomever it was that wooed her out there. You with me?”

“Of course, we’re with you,” Will said, his own wheels spinning hard.

“Question is, who was it?”

“Exactly,” Will replied. They were getting nowhere in a hurry, and he was about ready to walk down to the livery, lease himself a swift horse, and set off on his own search. Or, maybe the three of them could head out in Howard’s truck and leave the sheriff and his faithful deputy to sort things out.

“Who else was in the restaurant?” Sheriff Morris asked, removing his police hat. He scratched his head, then set his hat back in place. “Maybe somebody saw somethin’ and, because he recognized the person, didn’t think much of it when Olivia stepped outside.”

Will looked at Gus.

“There wasn’t hardly anybody left, that I can recall,” Gus said. “And, by the time we knew she was missing, the only people in the restaurant were Will and me and Georgia, Quinn Baxter, and, o’ course, them boys, who was back in their playroom.”

With a harrumph, the sheriff rubbed his whiskery jaw and went back to perusing the piece of paper he’d pulled from the folder.

“What do you keep reading there?” Will ventured to ask.

“This? Oh, it’s just some report I got from the New York Police Department.” He raised one eyebrow and looked at Will, his eyes wary. “They got a couple o’ fellas in custody.”

“Yeah?” A nagging thought pierced the back of Will’s mind. “What’s that got to do with anything? Olivia Beckman’s been kidnapped, and you’re worried about a couple of guys being held in another state?”

“New York State, Mr. Taylor. That ring a bell with you? They claim their partner’s here in Wabash. Name’s Clem Dodd. Apparently, he’s wanted in connection with several robberies back East.”

Will blinked in disbelief. A hard ball of nerves kept him from taking his next breath.
Clem Dodd never left? He’s been hiding out in Wabash this whole time?
“I know him—and he’s a crazy man.”

The sheriff nodded. “I figured you did. You know how? ’Cause it says right here you served time on Welfare Island. Those fellas in custody say you once ran with them and Clem Dodd.”

The tension in the room ran as thick as a slab of ice. More than feeling ashamed, though, Will was angry that this development was delaying their search for Livvie.

When Gus and Howard turned penetrating gazes on him, he sucked in a gulp of air and then let it out with a whoosh. “It’s true, but I’m a changed man now. The Lord did a work in my heart and life, forgave me of my past sins, and helped me to learn from my mistakes. I’m on a whole new path now.”

“Don’t know about that religious stuff,” the sheriff said. “All I know is, you’re an ex-con, and it wouldn’t surprise me none if you were still hooked up with this Dodd character.”

Anger made his breath burn in his throat, but he knew the importance of maintaining his cool. “That’s baloney, Sheriff. I haven’t seen Dodd since—”

“Since when?” he asked. “You might as well come all the way clean, Taylor.”

He felt pressed into a corner. “A number of weeks ago, he showed up, along with those other fellows you mentioned, after hours at Livvie’s Kitchen. They accused me of hanging on to the loot I lifted from a jewelry store some eleven years ago, but I told them I’d thrown the bag down a sewer pipe.”

The sheriff nodded. “Yep. Says in this here report at least a portion of those gems were recovered a few years back when somebody found ’em in a drainage ditch.”

He was relieved to hear that, but impatience to find Livvie kept him from expressing it. “Livvie overheard them talking outside her apartment that night. Hank and Rudy said they were leaving on the morning train, and, since I never heard from Clem after that, I made the foolish assumption he’d left town, as well. That’s the plain truth. Now, can we get on with business?”

“That’s what we’re doin’,” Sheriff Morris said. “I’m goin’ to list off all the robberies reported to me in the past several weeks, and I want you to stop me if any of ’em ring a bell with you.”

“What do you mean?” Will couldn’t believe it. “There’s a woman missing, Sheriff, and you want me to stand here and listen to some random list of reported robberies?”

“Bear with me, Taylor.” The sheriff looked at the paper and cleared his throat. “Bill’s Bait Shop reported ten dollars missin’ from cash drawer, Bronson Hardware had several tools stolen, Gant’s Five and Dime reported stolen cash, McCaffrey Grocery cited several crates o’ canned goods and various other supplies missin’ from inventory, Tom’s News and Cigar Shop reported several cartons of cigarettes missin’, the manager of Woolworth’s documented fifty dollars taken from the cash register…hmm, let’s see here…J. C. Penney reported a stolen dress, Bradley Drugstore—”

“Wait. Go back. The dress. Clem Dodd stole that dress and mailed it to Livvie. I’m sure of it.”

“He’s right, Sheriff,” Gus spoke up. “Livvie got a blue dress in the mail. Along with a note. Tell him ’bout that note, Will. And the other one, too. And the flowers.”

Will filled him in, recounting the trip Livvie and he had made to the post office to inquire about who had sent the dress, as well as how he’d come to learn that the dress had been stolen, and how Livvie had hastened to the store as soon as she could to return it.

“I wouldn’t doubt he’s your culprit in the majority of those thefts,” Will said. “He tries to keep a low profile by sticking to petty crimes. If it’s true that he’s still in town, then he’s the one who’s been pulling off all those dirty deeds.”

“Including stealin’ a dress for Olivia Beckman? What would his motive have been, do you think?”

“I don’t know. To get back at me, maybe. He’s probably jealous that I’m working for a mighty pretty woman and that I’ve moved on with my life. I’ve no doubt he’s been thinking for the past ten years about that jewelry store we robbed and just itching for my release so he could hunt me down and find out what I did with the goods. He’s probably madder than a starved maggot after learning I threw them away.” Will shuddered at the thought of Clem putting his grimy hands on Livvie, but he knew how demented the man could be. “He’s always had a sick fascination with women.”

Sheriff Morris rubbed his flabby jowls, then raked a hand through his thin, mousy brown hair. “According to this here report, the woman walked in front of a movin’ train the other day. Clem Dodd’s wife is dead.”

“You’re kidding! Well, that could have been enough to push him over the edge. I tell you, he’s a crazy loon.”

“You think Livvie would have stepped outside if he had beckoned to her at the back door?” the sheriff asked.

“Never,” Will said. “Livvie caught him staring at her through the front window of the restaurant one night, and he scared her half to death.”

Howard cleared his throat. Since their arrival at the sheriff’s office, he’d said little, no doubt fretting every bit as much as Will, who couldn’t help but wonder what the guy thought of him now that he knew about his prison stint. “I think we’ve done enough talking, Buford,” Howard said. “In the meantime, my wife’s little sister is missing, and I demand that you come up with some sort of plan for finding her. What’s it going to be?”

The pudgy man hefted his gun belt with both hands. “All right, all right. We’ve got no proof whatsoever that this Dodd fellow is responsible for Livvie’s sudden disappearance, but, for now, he’s our best gamble, especially since he’s already a wanted man, and the authorities suspect he’s in these parts. I’m thinkin’ we ought to start by canvassin’ houses. We’ll spread out and go door-to-door, askin’ if anyone’s seen anything suspicious. Who knows? He could be hidin’ out in somebody’s home, holdin’ ’em at gunpoint.” He looked at his deputy. “Clifford, you stay here and field calls. Someone might—”

The door blew open, and there stood Charley Arnold and Roy Scott.

“Evenin’, Charley, Roy,” the sheriff said. “What can I do for you?”

“We heard from Quinn Baxter Miss Livvie’s missing, and we come to see what we can do to help.”

They stepped inside, followed by George and Ralph McNarney, Sam Campbell, Skeeter Barnes, Dan Gillen and his two sons, and several others, until the small room was filled to capacity. Even Reverend White and a few of his parishioners crowded in.

“Well,” Sheriff Morris said, scratching the back of his neck. “Looks to me like we got ourselves a posse.”

“Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy.”—Psalm 33:18

As he shuffled along Falls Avenue, dimly lit by the moon and the glow from the windows of a few houses, Clem kept an eye to the street and stuck out his thumb whenever a car came by. Finally, an approaching vehicle slowed to a crawl. Clem moved alongside it, coming up to the open window. The driver leaned over and looked up at him. “Where you headin’, mister?”

Clem put on his best smile as he kept pace with the slow-moving vehicle. He could be downright friendly when the occasion called for it. “Up the road a spell,” he said. “Just past Highway Twenty-Four—Farr Pike Road, I think it’s called. It’s only a few miles. I could walk, but a ride would get me there a lot quicker.”

The man hesitated a moment, brushing a hand over his bearded chin, and then brought the Model T to a stop. “Up as far as Kentner Creek?”

“Not sure, exactly. I’ll know the corner when I see it. That’s where you can drop me.”

That seemed to satisfy the fellow. “All right, then. Hop on in.”

“Much obliged.” He climbed in, closed the door, and looked straight ahead, his nerves aflutter at the prospect of seeing Livvie. He hoped she wouldn’t be too mad at him for tying her up so snugly. Of course, he’d had no choice. He couldn’t take the chance of her bolting on him. She’d be scared at first—that was only normal—but her attitude would change when she learned how much he loved her. He clutched his left forearm where that blasted dog had sunk in his teeth. The spot throbbed clear to the next county, but it wasn’t anything a good dose of Dotson’s whiskey wouldn’t cure.