I saw Clara Thorton holding a small child in her arms. She spotted me, delivered the youth to another woman, and walked over.
“Thank you for your help,” she said.
“I did what everyone else was doing.”
“You didn’t have to. This isn’t your town. I appreciate it. I don’t pretend to understand you. I’m still uncomfortable about all this, but you deserve some help. I heard you were arrested.”
“Yes. Am I still?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned, but that’s not my department. Nor do I know why you were arrested. I do know that you were taken at the direct order of Wainwright Richardson. I believe you were deliberately left in the jail to die. Wainwright is another one who was working against me. It took me some time since noon yesterday to find this out, and I had to apply a great deal of pressure, but I can say with reasonable certainty that Wainwright was Jasper Williams’s contact in the hierarchy of county government. Wainwright supports many of Jasper’s causes. I don’t know more. Your problem is that Wainwright is in charge of law enforcement. When he gets a minute, you will be arrested again, unless you get some high-powered lawyers
or federal marshals down here. I cannot protect you there. The police will probably listen to Wainwright.”
I hoped at least Cody would see the light.
It felt like I was trying to avoid half the town while I hunted for the other half to question. First, I searched in the direction of the levee. I wanted to find Harvey, Shannon and Hiram Carpenter, and Wainwright Richardson when he wasn’t surrounded by a gaggle of cops. I didn’t know the other people Sylvia and Janis had mentioned. If I saw Al, the Klan coward of the night before, I’d speak with him also. The ones I didn’t know I’d try later.
I climbed the levee and walked along it until I reached the ridge at the east end of the hospital. As my eyes rose above the level of the dike, I saw an incredible expanse of water where once a quiet town had been. The water was still four feet from the top of the dike. It didn’t seem to be rising.
I saw Nathan with a group of guys standing on the top of the levee about thirty feet away. He wasn’t on my list, but I figured I’d start with him. I approached swiftly. They stopped talking and looked at me when I was about ten feet from them.
“Scott’s looking for you,” I lied.
“Something wrong with Daddy?”
“He said to come on up.”
Nathan detached himself from the group and followed me.
People filled every space on the first floor of the hospital. The stairway to the second floor was empty. Halfway up the steps, I grabbed the front of his shirt and swung him around to face me.
“I want the truth out of you about what the hell you and your family have been up to.”
He shoved my hand off his shirt. “Fuck you,” he said, and began to walk away.
I reached around, got another fistful of his shirt, and yanked him to a stop. I rammed his back up against the wall. He squawked and tried to twist away. I slammed him again.
“Why aren’t you willing to help Scott? He’s your brother. If you don’t love Scott now, think of how much you did as a kid, and be willing to help him out.”
“You’re the one accused of murder.”
“You think he’s going to be happy if his lover is executed or is in jail for the rest of his life?”
“I don’t care.”
“But he would.”
He stopped struggling. I think he was surprised at my strength. I knew there was a good reason I worked out with Scott as often as I could.
“Whether you care for him or not, I need answers, and I intend to get them. Stupid as it may sound, for Scott’s sake, I don’t want to bring trouble to you, or your brothers and sisters, but I’m going to find out who killed the sheriff no matter who is implicated. I’m going to get my butt out of the sling it’s in. I’ll hurt you if I have to, and I want answers.”
I let go a little. “One thing I don’t get is why you hate your brother.”
“Which one?”
“Huh?”
“I don’t really hate Scott.” He hesitated. His eyes got moist. “I just never understood, and he never came and talked to me. He just kept secrets from me. He never told me all the important stuff. I loved him. He could have talked to me. Instead, he stopped visiting. I don’t hate him. I want it to be like it used to be. I guess I don’t hate Hiram, but he’s a good hater. He’s very convincing when he wants to be. He looks out for me and the whole family.”
“Did he kill the sheriff to protect your sister’s honor?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Did he?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What was he doing illegal on his farm that the sheriff found out about?”
“Nothing half the farmers in the county aren’t doing. Skimming money from the federal government price supports. Hiram just got a little greedy, is all. He’s got more acres than almost anybody. Sheriff wanted a cut.”
“And then this thing with your sister came along?”
“I swear, Hiram promised me they were only going to talk about it at the meeting. They were going to go to the sheriff and ask him to resign. They were going to threaten him with prosecution. I think Hiram had talked Shannon into seeing a lawyer in Macon.”
The door from the first floor banged open and several kids rushed past us. I followed Nathan back outside.
I found Clara, Cody, Al Holcomb, and Wainwright Richardson just outside the entrance. Clara had her hands on her hips. Richardson was waving a finger in her face.
I walked up to them.
Richardson saw me, turned to Cody, and said, “Arrest this man.”
Clara said, “No.”
Cody asked, “How come you ordered him left in the jail to die and then lied to me when I asked if he was gone?”
Richardson glared at him. “You can’t be accusing me of any crime. With the water rising there were a million things to think about.”
I asked, “Why’d you order me arrested in the first place?”
“You need charges,” Clara said. “What happened that you didn’t tell me about?”
“I don’t have to tell any of you anything.”
Part of the crowd had formed a circle around us.
Richardson saw them and licked his lips. “We should move to a less public place.”
“No,” I said. “Let’s talk about it with the whole town as witness. If they’re going to lynch me for being gay or for killing the sheriff, then let’s do it. Cut the crap and get it over with. Why did you arrest me?”
“A witness came forward who said he saw you with the sheriff in the early morning hours, just before the murder.”
“Who’s the witness?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.” He raised his voice. “Listen, you people—” he pointed at me—“this man killed the sheriff, we have a witness. Now, Cody, arrest him before the crowd gets ugly.”
“No,” Clara said.
Cody looked from one to the other of us. He said, “There’s no jail to take him to. I talked to a few people. I was in one of the rescue boats with Everett, one of the jail guards. He said you told him to leave him to die.”
“You would take the word of a black man against—” He stopped.
Angry murmurs rose from the African-American people in the crowd around us. Several people said, “Let’s ask Everett.”
Cody asked, “Who’s the witness?”
Holcomb said, “Who’s this deputy to ask questions of the man who has been coroner in this county for fifteen years?”
“Al, go put your thumb in a hole in the levee,” Clara said.
A number in the crowd laughed. At least they didn’t seem overtly hostile to me, and Clara and Cody were on my side.
A man in bib overalls with a snaggletooth worked his way to the front of the throng: a cliché finally come true. The guys who had threatened us at Magnolia’s bar had been horrors to look at, but this guy was worse than all of
them combined. He was probably only a few pounds short of being able to play half the offensive line on a pro football team. Three warts on his right cheek were putrid shades of green. A running sore on his lip gleamed redly. He was half bald, with the rest of his hair hanging dirty and stringy halfway down his back. He carried a small child in his right arm. His gray eyes met mine briefly, then turned to Richardson. “Folks here want an answer, Wainwright. ’Bout time you began speaking up. You tell us who says he saw this man with the sheriff.”
“Now, Henry, you’re not worried about this queer?” No angry murmurs greeted this slur from Richardson.
Henry said, “What’s right is right. Is there somebody who saw him, or are you making it up?” Henry planted his feet squarely in front of Richardson. He seemed ready to wait for the next flood before he would move.
Richardson said, “Well, it’s not my fault. Someone came forward. I don’t have to reveal it unless it’s in court. I’ll talk to Judge Collins. This won’t be mob rule.”
“Judge evacuated yesterday morning,” Henry said. “He can’t get back, and we can’t get out. You tell us, now.”
“All right,” Richardson said. “I’m revealing this under protest.” He gazed at the crowd. They didn’t look unfriendly, more expectant and curious at this minor spectacle.
Richardson said, “Hiram Carpenter saw him.”
I realized that this was why Hiram, just before I got arrested, had been certain he wouldn’t have to put up with me.
The crowd murmured and rumbled as crowds in the background of movies are wont to do. We waited while people searched for Hiram, but he was not to be found.
Finally, Henry, still holding the child, said, “Seems like you got one man’s word against another.”
“You going to believe an outsider?” Richardson asked.
“Don’t know if I much believe anything. I know there’s water in the streets and my house is probably gone. Do know this man needs to be treated according to the law.”
“We’ll wait for attorneys and the judge to get back,” Clara said.
“Arrest him,” Richardson ordered Cody.
“No,” Cody said.
Richardson began to rant at Cody, then at me. He tried shoving me toward a police car. I knocked his hand away. When he reached for me again, Henry blocked him.
“Arrest Wainwright,” Clara said to Cody.
“You don’t have that kind of authority,” Richardson said.
Clara turned her back on him. She said, “Arrest him for attempted murder.”
Word of her directive spread quickly. The crowd swirled and eddied around us as they chattered and clamored with the news. Eventually, Richardson was hustled away to the back of a police car. Finally, the crowd began to disperse. I thanked Henry.
“Don’t much like your kind, either,” he said.
“Thank you anyway,” I said.
He just nodded and harumphed and walked off.
I reentered the hospital. Trudged up the stairs to the second floor. In the CCU all was quiet. I entered the lounge. Mrs. Carpenter sat with her back to me. She had her hands folded over a tissue in front of her. She was crying.
I put my hand on her arm. “Is Mr. Carpenter okay?”
“He spoke and recognized everyone this morning.”
I looked at her. Her face was deeply wrinkled around her chin and mouth. Her gray hair was pulled back, but wisps had gotten loose. I saw a bit of Scott around the eyes.
“Can I get you something?” I asked.
She sniffled. She took her hands off the tissue and placed them flat on the table.
In front of her on the tissue was a rusty razor blade with what looked like flecks of dried blood on it.
She looked down at the razor and back at me.
She spoke very softly. “One of my children is a murderer.” She sighed deeply. “A parent goes through a great deal with children. Illness and worry. Tragedy and happiness. This is wrong.”
“Where did you find it?”
“I gave my husband a sponge bath this morning. It was in the folds of the cuff of his pajama bottoms. It isn’t his. He never uses this kind.”
I sat next to her, patted her hand.
“Someone came into his room who was a murderer. At least one member of the family has been with him all that time. I’ve talked to the hospital personnel and my children. You haven’t been in his room since you found the sheriff. You couldn’t have put it there. I can’t believe one of my children would do this and then try and implicate an innocent person.”
I said, “Maybe one of the hospital personnel dropped it.”
“No,” she said. “Daddy didn’t want strangers touching him. We’ve cared for him. I’ve washed his hair and given him sponge baths. My children have changed the sheets and helped him up.”
I agreed it was probably one of her kids, but I couldn’t absolutely rule out a doctor, nurse, or orderly.
She pulled another tissue out of her purse and wiped her eyes. “I am going to question my children about this. I will know the truth.”
Nathan entered the room. “Mama, I found everybody except Hiram. They’ll be along in a minute.” He saw her crying. “What’s wrong, Mama? This guy trying to hurt you?”
“Oh, hush, Nathan.” A few minutes later, Nathan, Mary,
and Shannon stood in a circle staring at the razor blade. Mary called into the CCU and Scott came out. He sat down next to his mother.
Mrs. Carpenter told them of finding the razor blade. Shannon began to cry and slumped to the ground. Nathan caught her.
Hiram hurried in. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“One of you killed the sheriff,” I said.
Hiram lunged at me.
Mrs. Carpenter stood up. “Stop it!”
Everybody stopped.
Mrs. Carpenter eyed each of her children in turn. She slowly sat down. “No matter what, I want the truth.”
Tears ran down Shannon’s face. Her muffled sobs were the only sound in the room.
Nathan explained the situation to his brother.
Hiram said, “Anybody who came into the room could have put it there.” He pointed at me. “He could have.”
“He hasn’t been in there since the murder,” Scott said.
I said, “Hiram, why did you tell Richardson you saw me with the sheriff? You know I wasn’t. You’re lying.”
He began to protest, but I cut him off. “I know you think it’s going to be my word against yours, but I know I wasn’t there. Therefore you are trying to save yourself or cover up for someone else.”
Shannon burst out sobbing.
“Peter raped me!” Her voice shook with rage. “He humiliated me. He demanded I see him again. I refused. I’d stolen money from my job. They made me quit. He found out. I don’t know how. I had to put a stop to that horrible man.”
Scott gave me an agonized look. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Hiram slammed his fist against the wall. “Shannon, don’t say anything!” he commanded.
“She’s got to tell the truth,” Scott said.
Hiram looked like he might attack Scott.
Mrs. Carpenter said, “Y‘all hush.” She moved to Shannon and embraced her distraught daughter. She glanced up for a moment. “Y’all should leave now.”
We left to the sound of Mrs. Carpenter murmuring to Shannon.
Three days later we said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter in their front parlor. The prognosis for Mr. Carpenter’s full recovery was good and the Carpenter home had survived the flood unscathed. This was tempered by the arrest of Shannon for the sheriff’s murder.
Todd Bristol in Chicago and a team from Atlanta had been hired by Scott to defend his sister. He had paid her bail. That morning Mrs. Carpenter had gone with her daughter to the lawyers to find out what to do next.
Shannon had barely blinked in the past few days. She had refused to speak to Scott. He had tried talking to Hiram before we left. Hiram filled the air with a string of imprecations at his brother.
“It may have been self-defense,” Mrs. Carpenter told me over breakfast that morning. “That son of a bitch sure provoked her.” She was the only one in the family with whom Shannon had spoken in the last three days.
Shannon had not confessed any details to her. She was strong and athletic, and certainly had the strength to drag the sheriff around. A clandestine assignation, drugs or knockout drops in a drink, lots of forests and swamps around in which to do the deed. I suspected Hiram had helped her—if not in the killing, at least in the aftermath. Putting the body in our car had certainly been aimed deliberately to ruin one, or both, of us.
Scott had spoken to a few of his contacts in the press. After he recovered, Dennis would have a job far from Brinard. We’d stopped to see him each day and we promised
him a long exclusive on Scott’s coming out.
One road had been opened out of town the night before. The water was receding slowly. We were headed directly for New York and appearances on news and talk shows.
Scott insisted we fly first-class so we wouldn’t be bothered by tons of gawkers. After we took off, we settled down. I engrossed myself in Dead Man’s Island by Carolyn Hart. I’d barely been able to get to sleep last night from reading it until Scott had finally ordered me to turn out the light. The book was so good it took my mind off the horrors of the past few days.
Now, Scott sat very quietly, hardly moving, mostly staring out the window. I looked up after twenty pages. Tears ran down his face. I pulled out my hanky.
“It’s clean,” I said as I gave it to him. I put my hand on his arm.
He wiped his eyes.
He said, “I had a long talk with Nathan yesterday. I should have years ago. I should have gone home more. I should have made them accept me. I shouldn’t have let it go so long.”
“What happened is not your fault.”
“I should have spent more time with them. I know most of my brothers and sisters have big hangups about you and me, but that shouldn’t have stopped me from going home and bringing you with. They’re my family. Wrongheaded as they might be, I love them.”
I held his hand for a long while. I saw his eyes begin to nod and close when suddenly he turned to me and asked, “I told you my fantasy as a kid. You didn’t tell me yours. What was it?”
“When I was a kid, I dreamed of standing next to a professional baseball player. If he suddenly maybe wanted something, I’d run get it, and he’d be grateful, and he’d
thank me, and he’d talk to me, and he’d take me with him everywhere he went, and we’d be best friends. At the time it wasn’t a sexual fantasy, just a kid’s dream.”
He smiled and pulled me close and kissed me.