Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind (12 page)

“Lotta calls?” Sam asked.

“Man, yes. A robbery out at the Motor Inn. Three fights down on Mercer Avenue, and speeders all over the county. Then an Alzheimer’s patient walked out of a nursing home. Had to get the trackers and dogs out, but we found him. It just never stopped.”

“What you need,” Lillian declaimed as she flipped eggs, “is a
little honey in yo’ life.” Then she laughed so hard I was afraid she’d break the yolks.

Deputy Bates grinned and said, “What makes you think I don’t already have some?”

She whooped then and told him she could tell when a man had a little or a lot or none at all, and he was in the last category. Sam sat there laughing with them, but to me the conversation was getting a little too racy. It was my kitchen, after all.

“Has there been any word on Little Lloyd or his mama?” I asked, and everybody got serious again.

“Not a thing,” Deputy Bates said, going after his breakfast like he hadn’t eaten all night, and he probably hadn’t. “We put out a description of the car and notified the state troopers to watch for it, but there’s been nothing. The Raleigh police’re going to check all the beauty schools down there as soon as they open this morning to see where the Puckett woman’s registered. Other than that, there’s not much else we can do. Oh, yeah, Lieutenant Peavey’s going down to Benson’s Gap sometime today and question some of the Puckett clan. He knows a bunch of them, arrested most of ’em at one time or another, and if anybody knows anything, he’ll get it out of them. Lillian, if it’s not too much trouble, I believe I could eat another egg.”

“No trouble a’tall,” she said, beaming like she did when anybody appreciated her cooking. I didn’t tell her that he’d eaten four of mine the night before.

When Deputy Bates finally pushed his plate away and praised Lillian to the skies, more than she needed, to be honest about it, he took a deep breath.

“Miss Julia,” he said, “Sheriff Frady’s coming over this morning to ask you about Little Lloyd and his mother. It’d be best to so ahead and tell him everything.”

“Sam’s already warned me,” I told him. “And I don’t plan to leave anything out. I want that boy found so I can quit worrying
and get some sleep. I’ll tell you this, though, I am certainly glad I didn’t try to hide the fact that Little Lloyd is my husband’s son. It’d be so much worse if I had, because I’d have to reveal it now anyway. See, Lillian? Sometimes I do know what I’m doing.”

“
Some
times,” she admitted.

I heard car doors slam out front, and my heart gave a lurch inside my chest. I’d never been questioned by law officers before and I wasn’t looking forward to it. It could be about as bad as being counseled by my preacher. Earl Frady wasn’t much, but he represented a lot, even if I did know his wife went on a spree now and then, and only stayed out of jail because none of his deputies was willing to arrest her.

Sam stood up with me and said, “Come on, Julia, let’s go let them in.”

Then Deputy Bates got up and Lillian folded her dish towel as they came to join Sam and me. The four of us went to the living room to greet the sheriff.

I
’
D KNOWN
E
ARL
Frady for all the eighteen years he’d been sheriff of Abbot County, and he still looked like a none-too-prosperous shopkeeper in his brown polyester suit and black wing tips. He smiled his quick, nervous smile when I came to the door, and smoothed the thin hair over the bald spot on his head. He looked even more uncomfortable and unprofessional than usual, standing shoulder high to the big, sharply uniformed man behind him.

I opened the screen for them, and Deputy Bates introduced Lieutenant Wayne Peavey. He was far and away the largest man in the room, towering over us and unnerving me, what with those dark glasses that reflected my image without giving away anything of himself. He had a thin, firm mouth that looked as if it would split his face if he smiled.

None of us had to be introduced to Earl Frady; he’d been getting elected every four years like clockwork. Not because he knew so much about law enforcement, but because he knew county politics and county politicians inside and out. And because he knew enough to hire professionals, trained and experienced deputies, to keep the peace. And because he had enough
sense to leave them alone and let them do it. That was enough reason to keep returning him to office.

He showed up only when he thought something might make the newspaper or when, like now, somebody important might be involved in a crime.

We all took seats except Lillian, who leaned against the double opening to the dining room. She’d placed herself behind Lieutenant Peavey, but where I could see her. Deputy Bates took the piano bench, and Sam pulled up a chair next to Sheriff Frady. We looked at the sheriff, waiting for him to start, but the big lieutenant cleared his throat and took out a little notebook. Then he commenced questioning me about everything that’d happened since Hazel Marie Puckett showed up on my porch.

Lillian frowned every time he opened his mouth.

Right at the start, Sam interrupted to state in no uncertain terms that I was answering questions only in a spirit of cooperation, and that if the sheriff had anything else in mind, my attorney of record had to be present. Lillian crossed her arms and nodded in agreement.

“Nothing like that is on our mind,” Sheriff Frady said, straightening out one leg and plucking at the stretchy material to get enough slack to go over his knee. “We just need to know the sequence of events leading up to the break-in here Saturday. In broad daylight. That’s mainly what we’re investigating, and to see if Mrs. Springer’s discovered anything missing.”

“Mind your questions, then,” Sam said, giving the sheriff a squinty-eyed look.

Sam was a Democrat, born and bred, and so was Sheriff Frady, who knew which side his bread was buttered on. The sheriff nodded at his lieutenant to continue, while he leaned back in his chair and looked around like the proceedings had nothing to do with him. And they didn’t.

The lieutenant took me step by step through the past week, making notes as he went. After I went over in detail how the boy had left my house the day before, described Brother Vern and his car, and declared that as far as I knew, Hazel Marie Puckett was filing nails down in Raleigh, he closed his notebook and stood up.

“All right, Mrs. Springer,” he said as I craned my neck to look up at him. “We don’t know what happened in that garage. Neighbors tell us that the woman and her son lived there, but they’re both missing. Seems the place belongs to you, and the boy was here with you, so there’s a connection to you whichever way you look at it. And not only was there blood in that garage, we also found a couple of teeth. We’re waiting on the investigation report to confirm if we’re dealing with human substances, but we still don’t know who they belong to or how they got there.”

“Well, I don’t, either,” I said.

“No’m, I guess not, but what we found hadn’t been there much more than twenty-four hours, and from what you’ve told me, nobody knows where you were Friday afternoon.”

“Why, Friday afternoon I didn’t even know where that house was, much less that it belonged to me. And I told you I was driving around. All evening for some three hours. Ask Lillian. Ask Deputy Bates. They were both here when I came in.” Deputy Bates had been leaning his arms on his knees, staring at the floor. He looked up and confirmed my statement with a nod. Lieutenant Peavey didn’t notice.

“But according to you, nobody saw you during that three hours.”

“Well, the black truck did.”

Lieutenant Peavey aimed those black sunglasses at me and said, “What black truck?”

So I told him. He shrugged one shoulder, and didn’t even open his notebook. “Black pickups all over the place. You need a better witness than that.”

“Now, just a minute,” Sam began, getting to his feet. “Are you accusing Mrs. Springer of having something to do with all this? I told you, Earl,” he said, turning to the sheriff, “and I’ll tell you again. If you want to use anything said in this room, you’re in trouble. Mrs. Springer has not been represented by counsel, and I warned you about it before you began.”

“Now, Sam,” the sheriff said, getting up and edging toward the door. “We’re questioning everybody and, so far, nobody’s been charged with anything.”

“I should hope not,” Sam said. “Since, so far, you don’t have any charges to file. What crime has been committed except for a break-in right here? Is Mrs. Springer a suspect in that?”

“No, no, of course not,” the sheriff said, aiming a hard look at his lieutenant, who ignored him. “We just have to, you know, cover all the bases.”

The lieutenant turned to me. “You’re not planning any trips out of town, are you? I may want to talk to you again.”

When they left, Sam was fuming at the idea of me as a suspect in a crime without a habeas corpus, or delicti, or some such. I didn’t pay much attention, because my head was in a swirl again. That child had turned my life upside down when he entered it, and was still doing it now that he was out of it.

IT HAD JUST
gotten dark good that Monday night, about nine o’clock, and I was hoping for a good night’s sleep. Though now that my whereabouts last Friday had been called into question by the authorities, I didn’t have much hope for it.

I went into the kitchen to heat some milk for a cup of Ovaltine, figuring that might help. Then, on second thought, I put
the pan up and took down Lillian’s cooking sherry. That ought to do it, I thought. Presbyterians aren’t supposed to use alcohol, but a lot do. Not Wesley Lloyd, though, who was a teetotaler by conviction, which meant that I didn’t either. However. It came to me as I tasted the vile stuff that the ABC store ought to have something better, since so many people seemed to like it. I resolved to take myself down there and buy something decent to drink. I didn’t care who saw me, either. Just to get a little something to help me sleep, you know. And to aid the digestion. Nothing wrong with that, since Paul told Timothy to take a little wine for his stomach’s sake. If you can find a verse of Scripture to back you up, even Presbyterians will leave you alone.

I was just putting the bottle back when I heard a scratching at the back door. Then two little taps. I froze. Scared to death. Who could be at my back door that time of night? Anybody I knew would come to the front and yoo-hoo along with the tapping.

I hesitated, trying to think what to do. Get to the phone? Scream my head off? Run through the house and out the front?
In my bathrobe
? Stay real quiet and pretend I wasn’t home?

Lord, it wasn’t possible. I was directly in line with the window in the door, and whoever was out there could see me, plain as day.

I grabbed the sherry bottle by the neck and went to the door. I flipped on the porch light and nearly fainted.

I couldn’t get the door open fast enough, and when she stumbled through it, I wished I had fainted.

Hazel Marie Puckett fell against me and clung so that I was looking right into her poor smashed and swollen face. “Miz Springer!” she gasped. I held her upright, feeling the frailness of her bones. “I’m sorry to bother you,” I think she said. Her words were so slurred I had trouble understanding her. “I need to see Junior. Please, I have to see him.”

“Sit down, sit down,” I cried, putting my arm around her waist and guiding her to a chair. “What happened to you? You look terrible!”

Her eyes were almost swollen shut. Her mouth was split and swollen out of shape. Dried blood caked the corners of her nose and mouth, and her whole face was blue and yellowish-green with the worst bruising I’d ever seen. Her nails were dirty and broken, and right from that I figured she hadn’t been in Raleigh at beauty school. Her dress was torn and streaked with dirt, and her bare feet were scratched and filthy. All in all, she was a mess.

“What happened to you?” I asked again, as tears poured out of those battered eyes. Fresh blood leaked from her split mouth, and she put a hand up to cover it. “Have you been drinking?” I demanded.

“Oh, no’m. I…an accident. I’ve been in an accident. Please, Miz Springer, I got to see Junior.”

She wasn’t in any shape to see anybody but a doctor, and I wasn’t ready to admit that her Junior was in Raleigh looking for her. I took out some ice cubes and wrapped them in a dish towel.

“Here,” I said, “put that on your face. It’ll help the swelling. Have you been to the hospital? You may need some stitches around your mouth.”

“No’m, it’s all right. Just some teeth,” she said, pressing the ice pack to her face.

“Teeth! You lost some teeth? You need to see a dentist, and right soon, too. You want to take care of your teeth. I go twice a year. Every year. Whether I need to or not.” I was chattering, but I did that any time I got upset and this was one of those times.

“I need Junior,” she said into the towel. “Please, is he in bed? I just need to be sure he’s all right.”

“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Of course he’s all right.
It’s just that somebody’s wires have got crossed. ’Cause he’s in Raleigh, looking for you.”

“Raleigh!” She looked up from the towel with the most stricken look I’d ever seen. “But…he’s supposed to be here! With you, where he’d be safe. I left him here, he can’t be gone! Tell me, Miz Springer, please tell me he’s here with you.”

“Hush, now,” I comforted, “he’s all right. Your uncle picked him up yesterday to take him down to you.”

“You mean…Brother Vern? You mean Brother Vern’s got him?” The look on her face made my heart sink.

“Well. Yes.”

“Oh, God,” she sobbed, and her whole body seemed to shrink into itself. “How could you let him go? I counted on you to take care of him.”

“Now just a minute, miss,” I said, taking immediate umbrage at being blamed for one more thing on a long list. “You left him here with not so much as a by-your-leave. You didn’t tell me word one about where you’d be, and you called Brother Vern to come get him and he did. Was I supposed to keep him from his own uncle? Great-uncle?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t call nobody, wasn’t able to. And ’specially not him. I thought Junior’d be safe here.”

“He would’ve been, if you’d told me what was going on,” I said. I don’t mind saying that I was on the defensive. I hadn’t felt right about Brother Vern ever since they’d been gone, and I hated being told that not feeling right about him was the right feeling to have. “I’m not a mind reader, you know. And if you’d had the courtesy to tell me not to let Little Lloyd go off with,
I remind you
, one of your own family, then I wouldn’t have let him go. What else was I supposed to do?” Seemed I’d been asking that an awful lot lately.

“I’m sorry, Miz Springer,” she whispered, burying her head
in the towel again. That blond hair needed washing, and a new color job, too. “It’s just, well, Brother Vern’s been looking for something since Friday. He tried to get me to tell him about it, but, Miz Springer, I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“He tried to get you…?” Light dawned in my slow mind. “Are you telling me you weren’t in an accident? Are you saying that Brother Vern did this to you?”

She shook her head, but kept it in the towel. “No, but he let somebody else do it.”

“Thay Lord,” I gasped, and sank into the chair beside her. “And him a preacher! I can’t believe this.”

“Being a preacher don’t mean a thing, Miz Springer,” she said. “Or calling yourself a Christian, neither.”

“Well, child,” I said, shrinking up a little myself. “You’re not telling me a thing I don’t already know.

“Why did Brother Vern want Little Lloyd so bad?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Little Lloyd, the one you call Junior,” I snapped. “I hope you don’t expect
me
to call him Junior.”

“Oh,” she said. She lifted her head out of the towel and took a deep breath. Then doubled over with a gasp, holding her side. “My ribs. I think something’s broke inside.”

“I’m calling a doctor,” I said, getting up to go to the phone.

“No, please.” She touched my arm, stopping me. “We’ve got to find Junior. I’ve lasted this long, I can keep going till we find him.”

I studied her a minute, looking at the various colors of the bruises and the blood that was dried and cracked on her face. That beating had not been recent. I didn’t know how she’d managed to last without medical treatment, but she wasn’t dead from it, so maybe she could keep going.