Milk and Honey (21 page)

Sue Beth sobbed. Marge put her notebook away and slipped her arm around her.

“I want to solve this thing. Give you and your parents some peace of mind. But I need help. I need to know all about Rolland Mason as well as your kinfolk. They were all murdered together.”

Sue Beth continued to cry, but softer than before.

Marge said, “Think you can help me out?”

“It’s just so
hard
!”

“I know it is.” Marge got her another tissue. “You tell me when you’re ready to talk again.”

After a beat, Sue Beth said, “I’m ready now, I guess.”

Marge took out her notebook. “We were talking about Rolland Mason.”

“Yes?”

“Did he and Linda seem close?”

Sue Beth sighed. “Well, ’bout a month ago, Rolland started coming to the house…to see Linda, I think. Linda…she wouldn’t do nothing with him at the house, wouldn’t touch him, even talk to him while others were around. But sometimes, when they thought no one was
looking, they’d be whispering, planning to meet each other. I tried not to listen, but couple times I couldn’t help it.

“I’d get so angry. My blood would just boil. I’d be angry at Linda, angry at my brother Luke, for not doing nothing ’bout his wife. But you can’t go sticking your nose where it don’t belong, so I tried to act normal around her and Luke.”

“Carla ever catch them whispering together?”

“Yeah, she knew ’bout it, too.”

“She ever say anything about it to you?”

“Not really,” Sue Beth said. But her voice was very hesitant. This time, Marge prodded her for more.

Sue Beth said, “Well, it’s just that…I don’t think Carly liked the fact that Linda was seeing Rolland. Maybe she felt bad for Luke, though she never said nothing before about it. I think Carla was a little jealous, plain and simple. Linda was twelve years older than her, but she had a way with the boys. And she didn’t have to act as…how should I put this…act as…as wild as my sister did to get ’em.”

Sue Beth shook her head.

“Things were sometimes bad, Miss Detective. Bad ’cause Linda was playing so close to home.”

“Byron Howard?”

“I think that was the start of it.”

Marge wondered about the beekeeper, if he figured into all this. She asked Sue Beth how Linda and Byron got started. Sue Beth shrugged and claimed ignorance. But she did say that after the affair, Byron Howard kept to himself. Never came over anymore unless it was absolutely necessary for him to talk to Pappy, B.B., or Luke.

“What about Linda after the affair?” Marge said. “She didn’t seem to keep to herself.”

“Right about that,” Sue Beth said. “Her thing with Byron didn’t change her wild ways one bit. She still acted up, going to Hell’s Heaven, doing Lord knows what over there.”

“I spoke to the owner of Hell’s Heaven,” Marge said.

“You spoke to Chip?”

Marge nodded. “He said Linda just used to drink there but didn’t have a lot to do with the guys. Though quite a few seemed to be interested in her. What do you think about that?”

“Well, that’s what Linda always said,” Sue Beth answered. “She was just having fun, not doin’ anything serious. But…but if I was a bettin’ woman, I’d swear there was something going on between her and Rolland.”

“Why Rolland?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

Marge asked. “What was Linda like as a mother?”

Sue Beth shut her eyes. “Her one saving grace. Linda was a very good mother to Katie.”

Marge doodled cubes inside her notebook, thinking about Linda’s duality. She might have been a madonna when it came to her kid, but to an old-fashioned couple like Pappy and Granny, she was nothing more than an evil whore, teaching her wicked ways to their younger daughter. Maybe Granny’s rebuke had gone beyond verbal admonitions. But then where would Luke fit into all of this?

Marge dropped that train of thought, moved on to another motive—a stronger motive.

“One last routine question, Sue Beth,” she said. “Do you know anyone who’d gain something from Luke’s death?”

“Gain from Luke’s death?” She shook her head. “Just Linda. But she’s dead, too.”

“Hmmm,” Marge said. She continued drawing cubes. “What would Linda have gained from Luke’s death?”

“His portion of the land, of course,” Sue Beth said. “It’s divided three ways between Luke, Pappy, and me—” She suddenly reddened, couldn’t seem to find her voice.

Marge let her blush a moment, thinking, She knows what I’m getting at. Good! She said, “Three ways. What happened to Carla?”

Sue Beth was still scarlet. “Carla?”

“Yeah, Carla,” Marge said. “She wasn’t included in the inheritance?”

“When she married—if she married the right person—Pappy would have included—” Sue Beth had suddenly had enough. “What does
Carla
…or
Pappy
…or
me
have to do with anything? Lord knows,
I
was never interested in selling. And Pappy wasn’t interested in selling. And Carla never said no words about it neither. The only one who was interested in selling was
Linda
!”

Marge said nothing.

“Well, you’ve already pried into all of our affairs,” Sue Beth said. “What else do you want to know?”

Marge took Sue Beth’s arm, stroked it gently. “I have to ask you these things, Sue Beth. I need to know everything if we’re going to get anywhere.”

Sue Beth suddenly seemed to shrink. Her face lost all its anger. Her lip began to tremble, her eyes watered.

“What else?” she choked out.

“That’s all for the moment,” Marge said. “You all right?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Sue Beth said.

“Would you like to see Katie now?” Marge asked. “Or do you want a moment to calm down?”

“No,” Sue Beth said. “I want Katie. Let’s get it over with.”

Marge gently led her into Sophi Rawlings’s living room. Decker and Sophi were drinking coffee, sitting on the sofa, kids scampering around them like bedbugs. They both rose when Sue Beth and Marge entered the room, and Sophi immediately offered them coffee. Both declined. Sue Beth was shaking, hugging herself. Sophi went over to her, threw her thick arm around Sue Beth’s small shoulder.

“She’s in the back,” she said. “You want to go outside, or should I bring her here?”

Sue Beth mumbled something, realized no one understood her, then said loudly, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then just sit down and make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Litton. I’ll get you Sally.” Sophi corrected herself. “I mean Katie. Whatever you call her, she’s a fine little girl. Detec
tive Decker and I were just talking what a sweetie pie she is. I’m so glad we found her kin.”

“Thank you,” Sue Beth said weakly. When Sophie left, Sue Beth muttered, “I’m so nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” Marge said. She patted her hand. It was ice-cold.

“It’s not like Katie doesn’t know me…but…” Her voice trailed off.

A moment later, Sophie came back carrying Katie in her arms. The toddler was dressed in a sleeveless white shirt and green shorts. Her feet were bare, her little toes wriggling and caked with mud. Her curls had turned even more blond. Her brown eyes widened with unabashed delight when she noticed Sue Beth. She reached out her arms to her aunt.

“Tatie Sooooo!” she shrieked. “Tatie Soo, Tatie Soo.”

“Oh, baby,” Sue Beth said. She scooped the toddler in her arms. “Oh, my poor, poor baby.” She held her to her breast and began to cry.

“Mama?” Katie asked. “Mama? Mama?”

Sue Beth looked at Marge, panic etched into her face. “What do I tell her, Miss Detective? What
do
I tell her?”

Decker said, “As a matter of fact, Mrs. Litton, Detective Dunn has the name of a child psychologist who might be able to help you and Katie out.”

Quickly, Marge reached in her coat pocket and offered Sue Beth a piece of paper. “His name is Dr. Germaine, his phone number is—”

Sue Beth looked up. “A
head doctor
?”

“For Katie’s sake,” Decker said. “They’re used to dealing with crisis situations.”

“Society for Victim’s Rights will pay for the initial visit,” Marge said. “Just try him out.”

“Mama?” Katie said. She started to squirm in Sue Beth’s arms. “Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama.”

The child began to cry.

“Oh my Lord,” Sue Beth said. “I feel sick to my stomach.”

Again, Marge offered her the phone number.

Katie drooped helplessly in her aunt’s arms, bleating out “Mama” like an injured lamb. Tears poured out of Sue Beth’s eyes. Her skin had turned ashen and was damp with perspiration.

Slowly, she reached toward Marge’s outstretched hand and took the piece of paper.

Ozzie Crandal said to Decker, “These people. They’re a real piece of work.”

“In what way?” Decker asked.

“Could I get a cup of coffee?” Crandal said. He loosened his tie. “I’ve been going seven hours straight without anything.”

“If you can stand our squad-room brew,” Decker said.

Crandal said he was used to axle-grease java, anything that didn’t stick to the bottom of the mug seemed weak. Decker poured a cup from the squad-room urn, gave it to the thin-haired detective, and sat back down at his desk. Decker loosened his tie and regarded the sixty-year-old detective. Crandal seemed a little bit more alert today. Maybe because the room was cooler than the canyon had been. Heavy guy like him must melt in the heat. Crandal thanked Decker for the coffee, then pulled out sheaves of paper from a leather-scarred briefcase.

“This is your copy of my notes,” he said. “Read them over, ask me any questions. Just don’t ask me to reinterview them.”

“Why?”

Crandal took another sip. “The old man is just so full of rage it makes you nervous. You wouldn’t think it just by looking at him. I’d say he was about seventy. Squat guy with usual redneck face—tan and full of wrinkles. Got square shoulders for a man his age, back not stooped a whit. But when he talks.” Crandal raised his eyebrows. “Get in his face and he’ll blow you away.”

“Think he blew his kids away?”

“No,” Crandal said. “I don’t think he did. First of all, he arrived at Fall Springs before the Littons did. Got at least a half-dozen people who’ll verify that. So if anyone was suspect, I’d question Sue Beth. Find out if she had anything to gain by the deaths of her brother and sister.”

Same point Marge had made, Decker thought. With Luke and Linda out of the way, Sue Beth stood to inherit everything when Pappy D died. Then he remembered the way she held Katie, taking the little girl into her arms, holding her so tightly, tears streaming down her face…and Linda was the
only
one who had ever approached Manfred with an interest in selling. Sue Beth just didn’t seem like the type.

A gut feeling, Decker thought, not based on anything factual.

Crandal was talking, “…old guy was minimally cooperative when I asked him the ‘who-what-where’ questions. Actually started to choke up when he talked about his son. But when I attempted to ask him about anything personal that might have caused the murders, he started foaming at the mouth. Especially when he talked about the bloodsucking city slicks from Manfred Corp., and his wicked daughter-in-law.”

“Yeah,” Decker said. “Seems the family didn’t like her too much.”

“Old Pappy claimed she was driving them all to the poorhouse, and Manfred was waiting to swoop down like vultures when she did,” Crandal said. “The old lady didn’t have much to say about Manfred. Anytime I asked her a question, she’d defer to her husband,
except
when it came to her daughter-in-law. Old lady became livid, said all of it was
her
fault, because she was the Whore of Babylon.”

Decker paused a moment. Linda driving them to the poorhouse? Linda’s closet didn’t seem overly stuffed. No cache of jewelry was found. It didn’t make sense.

“What did Linda spend so much money on?”

“I asked Pappy D that very question,” Crandal said. He took a giant swig of his coffee. “Granny answered for him. Seems the Whore of Babylon spent it all on wild living.”

“Granny didn’t get more specific?” Decker asked.

“You gotta picture the setup,” Crandal said. “You got Pappy D, who was doing most of the talking, which wasn’t too much to begin with. You got his mousy wife—an old broad with knockers down to her knees—standing about two inches behind him, head down, not saying nothing.
Except
every once in a while, she perked up, got this fire in her eyes like a woman possessed, and hurled a biblical insult at Linda. Then she retreated back into her shell.”

“She doesn’t sound too balanced.”

“I don’t think she is.”

Decker said, “Think she could handle the kickback of a shotgun?”

“I think she could fire a cannon, if she had to,” Crandal said. “But like I said, it seems they arrived before the Littons did. If the dynamic duo did it, they’d have to be very quick and breezy about it.”

Murder took all of a moment, Decker thought. But what would they have done with Katie? Decker hadn’t found her until one in the morning some ten hours later and one hundred miles away from Fall Springs.

Decker asked, “Anyone down in Fall Springs remember them having a toddler?”

“A toddler?” Crandal asked.

“Yeah,” Decker said. “Pappy and Granny didn’t have a kid with them, did they?”

“Just their retarded son, Earl,” Crandal said.

“What was he like?”

“Huddled into a corner,” Crandal said. “Every time I looked at him, he gave me a scared smile. Shaking like a dog that had just peed in the house. Every so often, one of Sue Beth’s boys came over to him and started stroking his
hair.” Crandal broke into a smile. “Guess everyone needs a pet retard.”

Decker didn’t respond.

Crandal shrugged. “Kid seemed harmless enough.”

“Did you talk to him at all?” Decker asked.

“Nope,” Crandal said. “Pappy wouldn’t let me near him. Just as well. I don’t think I’d get much out of him other than one-word answers.”

Like Byron Howard, Decker thought. He said, “So you have no indication that they were involved?”

“They seemed nutty enough to shoot,” Crandal said. “But the time frame doesn’t work out real well.”