O Little Town (11 page)

“I’m going to see granddad.”

“You can’t do that. Do you know what time it is? Visiting hours were over an hour ago.”

“They’ll let me go up.”

“No, they won’t. At eight-thirty they lock the front doors.”

“Then I’ll go in through the emergency room like you do.”

“Son, sit down. It’s been a rough day for all of us and I know how you feel, but going over there right now will only upset him. He needs his rest. Wait until tomorrow. The roads will be better and you both will have clearer heads about the matter.”

“Pop, where’s Louis Wayne going?”

“Nowhere, Hoyt.”

“Why’s he got his coat on?”

Louis Wayne’s seven-year-old brother was in his pajamas with a dart gun in his hand. He knew nothing about what had happened in the Sterrett household today. He knew nothing about his future sister-in-law, the foreboding health of his grandfather, or why his mother had gone to bed at nine. His presence hampered Louis Wayne from putting up a further argument with their father, so Louis Wayne, like the good big brother he was, conceded by saying, “I’m going out to sweep off the driveway. Want to put on your boots and help?”

“Yeah!” Hoyt screeched and ran for the porch to get his coat and boots.

Louis Wayne would see his granddad tomorrow.

Lois Pence was in bed reading her
TV Guide
when the phone rang like a scream in a haunted house. She jumped out of bed and ran barefoot down the steps, more frightened with every ring. Every time the phone rang after ten o’clock, she panicked. By the time she lifted the receiver, she was almost too weak to expel a hello.

“Mrs. Pence? Is that you?”

“Yes, it is. Who is this?”

“This is Colleen Sandridge. Do you have any idea where Milton might be?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“Did you leave the store before he did?”

“Yes. I left shortly after nine and he was still at his desk. Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. I talked to him after you left I suppose. That was around nine thirty. He said he’d be home by ten and it’s eleven now, and I was getting worried.”

“Have you tried the store?”

“Three times. No one answers, so I’m sure he’s gone. I thought maybe you might remember if he mentioned anything else he had to do.”

“No, ma’am. Do you want me to go down to the store and check?”

“Not yet. Thank you. And I’m sorry to have called you so late. You were probably already in bed.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Sandridge. I wasn’t asleep.”

“Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

CHAPTER 20

Walter was in his hospital room, in his hospital bed, with the lights out. Perhaps tomorrow he’d be back in his own house and his own bed. He’d have his own newspaper and his own radio and he could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He might not even go to sleep. He might just sit up and read and watch Jack Paar. Then he remembered. Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve. Hospital days all ran together and, although he knew what the date was, it just hadn’t hit him that Christmas was so near. But the way time flew for him anymore, Christmas was always just a few hours away. Except past Christmases. Those seemed like centuries ago and yet they flashed across his mind as vividly as the car lights from Rose Street flashed across the wall in front of him.

He looked through the open curtains at the flying snow. It could be anytime he wanted it to be. It could be now or it could be then.

Mt. Jefferson was a few years away from its first gasoline-powered ambulance. But even if the city had had one, because of the condition of the streets tonight it would have paled in comparison to the trusty old horse-drawn ambulance wagon the hospital sent to the Crown. Two hospital attendants crowded into the little dressing room. One carried a stretcher and the other one knelt down to speak to Adrienne.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you.”

“Do you know where you were shot?”

“Ask Walter. I’m afraid to look.”

“I have to ask you, ma’am. I want to know if you understand what has happened.”

Adrienne repeated, in a fog, “Ask Walter.”

The attendant refused to acknowledge that Walter was in the room, much less that he was both securing the wound and holding the hand of the wounded. He continued to talk to Adrienne.

“We’re going to pick you up now and put you on a stretcher. If this hurts tell us.” He looked back at his partner with the stretcher and said, “Let’s go.”

With this they pushed Walter out of the way, rolled Adrienne on the stretcher, and carried her out of the room, down the hall and out the stage door to the waiting wagon.

A crowd had gathered in the hallway and outside on the street. Walter stood with them and watched until the horses and passengers turned the corner and were out of sight. He was unaware of how long he had been standing there until a hand clasped his shoulder and he heard his father’s voice say, “Let’s go inside, son. They need to talk to you.”

Walter followed his dad down the steps to the dressing room they had just left. Two men were waiting inside for them. He recognized one, the big beefy one with the red face, as Captain Bennington of the Mt. Jefferson police force. The other was much younger, smaller, and friendlier looking. Captain Bennington, who only a few months later would become the chief of police for a short term before leaving under some sort of scandal involving a local gambler and two waitresses, did all the talking.

“Walter, how are?” He didn’t wait for Walter to answer. “You know me don’t you, Walter? My name’s Bennington. Your old man and me belong to the same lodge. I remember when you were born. And I want to help you, and I want you to help me. Do you understand?”

Walter looked at the two police officers, his father, and the pool of Adrienne’s blood still in the middle of the floor.

“Walter, it looks like you’re the only witness we have. Everybody else has skedaddled. So why don’t you tell me exactly what happened here tonight.”

Walter swallowed hard and said, “It was an accident,” in hopes that was all he was going to have to say. But the night was young, and Captain Bennington had nowhere to go.

“How so, son?”

Walter wanted to remain loyal to Adrienne, but he didn’t know how long he could hold out. Captain Bennington cut an intimidating figure.

“That’s just it. It was an accident.”

“Who shot her?”

“Does that matter?”

“Oh, yeah, boy. That matters. Cause if you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to assume you did.”

Walter turned anxiously and looked to his father for help. He got none. E. G. Selman was on the captain’s side with this one.

“Just relax, Walter, and tell the captain what happened,” his father said. “No one’s blaming you for anything here. But you are the only one who knows what happened, and that young woman might not make it to tell her story. So it’s all on you. Do it for her sake or somebody’s going to get off scot-free.”

His dad’s words made sense. More sense than Adrienne’s. Why did she want to protect the person who had done this to her? Nicholas and Simon were both guilty in a way. He did have an obligation and it was to Adrienne, not to Nicholas or Simon, no matter what she thought.

“From what I can piece together, Simon Croft was having a love affair with Adrienne. They sneaked around a lot down here behind her husband’s back. Sometime this evening, before the performance, she and Simon must have had a spat and Simon hit her. He came to me to find a doctor and I couldn’t, so instead I patched her up with makeup to get her through the show. All this time I thought it was her husband, Nicholas, who had hit her, but after the show, he came in and Simon was already in here, and when he saw her face marked up he went into a rage. Simon admitted he had done it and that’s when Nicholas pulled out a gun and fired it. Adrienne got in the way. So it was an accident just like I said it was. Nicholas shot her but it was Simon’s fault.”

Captain Bennington looked a long time at Walter and let his words sink in before he spoke.

“The husband shot her but it was the boyfriend’s fault. You have a cockeyed way of looking at things, young man. What part did you play in all this? What were you doing down here when the shot was fired?”

“I came down to see if she was all right after the show.”

“She just let you in her dressing room? A boy like you? Just let you walk in?”

“Yes, sir. We had become friends.”

“I believe you had, Walter. I believe you had. So you and this Simon Craft, Croft, were sitting in the dressing room of another man’s wife and her husband comes in. What did he think of that? What did Nicholas think?”

“I guess it made him pretty mad. He never really said. When he came in, he noticed the bruise on her face and that made him mad. He wanted to know who did that to her.”

“Did you tell him who did it?”

“No, sir. I didn’t know at the time. Not until Simon started crying.”

“And then what did Nicholas have to say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He just pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Simon and shot.”

“Is this the gun?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One shot?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now this is a real important part, Walter. I want you to think real hard and remember exactly, I mean exactly what happened next. When did these men leave the room?”

“Right after he shot her.”

“Right after? Immediately after? They just took off running?

“Well, Nicholas went first. Then Simon.”

“Neither one looked after the lady?”

“I ran to get my dad and he came in and told me to stay with her while he went for help.”

“Your dad left you in the room with two men, one of them a possible murderer?”

“I can answer that, Captain.” E. G. interrupted the interrogation. “I put Walter in charge of the girl because I didn’t know which one of the men had fired. I picked up the pistol before I left and put it in my pocket so I knew there was no further danger. But on the side of caution I instructed two stagehands to stand at the door. I know both of those men and I knew they could handle any trouble an actor could give them with or without a pearl-handled pistol.”

“Fine, fine … but I want Walter to tell his story first.” Captain Bennington was irritated that the elder Selman had broken his rhythm. He continued to address his questions to Walter. “You were the only one in there when they left?”

“Me and Adrienne.”

“Of course. Did you help them escape?”

“Me? No, sir. I never took my hand off her wound.”

“Walter, someone in the hall heard you say,” and he went to his notes for the proper quote, “‘
Get out of town before the police come
.
You, too, Simon.’
Then they heard you yell ‘
Simon, run
.
Get out of here.’
Is that right, Walter?”

“I was just repeating what Adrienne told me to say.”

“I see.”

Walter’s throat was frozen. Nothing was sounding right in the retelling. Bennington leaned back with his topcoat open and his silver watch chain shining, and Walter felt as if he was beating him over the head with his own words. He could no longer think straight. He just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to go up the hill to the hospital and see if Adrienne was going to be okay.

“That’s all we’ll need you for tonight, Walter. But if those two dandies aren’t in our net by morning, we may need to talk to you again.”

Lenity General had been modernized and updated with each decade, but this was the very same building where Adrienne had been taken all those years ago. The very same hospital Walter had walked to that night to sit in the waiting room until dawn, awaiting news from the second-floor operating room. That news finally came just as his own news had come today.

Walter fell asleep. He was too tired to dream anymore.