A rtie had left Dorothy at her door with some concern. She seemed weary and sorrowful but insisted when he asked that she would be all right. Artie could think of nothing else he could do, but after getting her permission to pray with her again, he left.
He had mulled over Sheriff Wright’s interview of Dorothy since Wednesday. All the walk back to the Pavilion, he went over it again.
Theo didn’t care to stay in Apache Junction any longer, so they started for home directly. Both brothers said little, lost in their own thoughts. By the time they reached home, the sun had gotten low. Artie marched inside in search of Fred Salts.
“I want to know why Dorothy Hodges would be afraid of my father.”
Fred, bent over his desk, looked up with a start. “I’m not sure that is an appropriate question, given the circumstances.”
Artie took a step back. “Why do people seem to forget that I am the son? You and my father sent me to meet that girl, instead of yourselves. Why is that?”
“Business.” A tuft of wind blew through the open window, causing Fred to cough.
“Nonsense.” Artie crossed his arms. “Never in over two decades has my father sent me on errands as a messenger boy because he was too busy. Never have you sent me on an errand since becoming his secretary, because you are too busy. Until now. That is nonsense.”
“What is going on?” Theo filled the doorway, looking between Artie and Fred with a furrowed brow.
Fred stiffened. “Your brother seems to be making accusations. Given the circumstances, it would seem that his inquiries are unnecessary.”
“Given the circumstances,” Artie spoke in a level tone, “it would seem that my inquiries are more necessary than ever before.”
Fred turned back to him. “It is not your business—”
“You made it my business when you sent me to meet that girl!” Artie had little patience left. “You didn’t even send me once. You sent me half a dozen times? It is my business.”
Theo leaned against the doorway. “I would suggest that you answer whatever he asked you, Fred.”
Fred took a seat, folding his hands onto the table in front of him. The breeze triggered another cough. “Very well. We believed that Miss Dorothy Hodges would respond better to yourself than to your father. Or even me.”
Artie didn’t find that satisfactory. “Why?”
Fred coughed once again. “You are nearer her age. And, well, he thought that she might trust you more than him.”
“Why would she need to?” Theo interjected. “Why wouldn’t she trust Dad?”
Fred cleared his throat. “I am not privy to all of your father’s plans or dealings, but I believe that he thought Miss Dorothy would do whatever he asked more readily if it came through you. He reserved his own presence for more…pressing times. I think that he feared if he dealt with her directly too often, the girl might end up running.”
“Because she is afraid of him?” Artie still had his arms crossed.
Theo sent him a questioning look, but Artie waited instead for Fred’s response.
Fred shifted uncomfortably. “I believe so, yes. You must understand, I have never even met Miss Dorothy.”
Artie heaved a sigh, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. “Why is Miss Dorothy afraid of my father, Fred?”
Fred blinked up from behind his glasses. “Perhaps you should ask the girl yourself.”
“Perhaps I have asked her.” Artie looked directly at Fred. “Perhaps I want your explanation now.”
Fred swallowed and then coughed. “I can’t say that I can answer you.”
Artie watched the little man’s face for a long moment. “I want the names of anyone else my father lent money to. I want to talk to them.”
“I can’t give them to you.” Fred shook his head. “He kept those records, not me.”
Artie began to grow annoyed. “You have a memory, Fred. I’ve seen you use it before. You can’t have simply forgotten them all.”
Fred twitched nervously. “Mabel Foster borrowed from him some time back.”
“Mabel Foster died months back.” Theo still watched from the doorway.
Even Fred’s cough seemed nervous. “Teddy Birch borrowed as well. And, of course, Miss Dorothy is only acting for her father, Joseph Hodges.”
“Teddy Birch moved his family to California.” Artie found the man’s nervousness overdone.
“I can’t help that. I can only tell you what I know.”
“If Dad kept records, wouldn’t they be in his desk?” Theo made no move in that direction, so Artie jumped from Fred’s desk.
Fred stood as if to make another protest, but neither brother gave him any attention. He relapsed into silence before he really began.
Artie found no evidence of a written record; the drawer to his father’s desk seemed surprisingly empty.
Fred wheezed. “Do you think it is the time, with your father missing, to be looking into his private affairs?”
On his way to join his brother at the door, Artie turned his head toward him. “To the contrary, it is exactly the time to be looking into his private affairs. I repeat, also, that I am his son. If anyone has the right, I am among them.” He stopped and frowned. “Perhaps I asked the wrong question.”
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand you.”
“I asked you why Dorothy is afraid of Dad.” His frown deepened. “Maybe, I should have asked why you are.”
Fred tried to answer and failed.
Artie made it to the door before he turned around again. “I’ll find the truth, Fred. Whether you approve, want to help me, or not. But I will find the truth.”
He left with Fred Salts sitting, his mouth agape until a puff of desert wind made him cough instead.