The Hanging of Samuel Ash (32 page)

“We're all shaped by something,” she said. “My handicap came in the form of religion, large doses of it. At least your disability is out there where you can see it.”

“Along with everyone else,” he said. “But it's only something I contend with so long as I'm alive.” He held the prosthesis up. “I'll be leaving this behind when I die, while you're going right into the hereafter with yours.”

Hook turned onto the highway and brought the old road-rail up to speed. She clanked and thumped as he herded her down the highway.

“So, Skink confirmed what you suspected about Samuel Ash?”

Hook nodded. “Not without a certain amount of discomfort on his part, which I regret, but I needed to be certain. The body now resting in the funeral parlor is Bruce Mason and not Samuel Ash.”

“And what answers do you expect to find today?”

“All I have are questions, too damn many of them. What we apparently have here is a couple of kids who ran off together after committing a crime. We know where Bruce Mason is and what happened to him, but we don't know what happened to Lucy. Why did he join the army and leave her behind? Where did he leave her? Were they married before he joined? Does she have any idea of who might have killed him? Once we have Lucy, we should have a good many more answers. I'm just hoping that Esther can help narrow this down.”

He looked over at her. “And here's yet one more to ponder: if Lucy Barker skipped school, was picked up by the highway patrol, and all that business wound up in her records at the orphanage, why didn't Bain Eagleman discipline her? I mean, here's a guy who's willing to put little girls on the circle for not eating their shepherd pie.”

*   *   *

Hook started slowing down a block from the phone office and still ran one tire up on the lawn.

“Maybe you should go in,” he said.

“Right,” Celia said. “I know the routine.”

When they came out, Esther stopped and looked at the road-rail.

“What is it?” she asked.

Celia pointed to the door. “It's alright, Esther. It's a railroad thing and more or less safe.”

Esther slid in and nodded at Hook. “I don't have much time,” she said. “Someone is covering for me.”

“Thanks for coming,” Hook said. “Here's the deal: we know that Bruce Mason was hanged off the wigwag signal in Carlsbad, New Mexico. What we don't know is what happened to Lucy Barker.”

Esther's face paled. “Bruce was hanged?”

“We've reason to suspect it might have been murder. That being the case, Lucy herself might be in danger.”

Esther wove her fingers together and looked out the window. “You think someone might try to kill her, too?”

“It's possible,” Hook said. “I need to find Lucy, and I think you can help.”

“I don't know where she is,” Esther said.

“The highway patrol picked Lucy up for hitchhiking. Are you aware of that?”

Esther glanced at Celia. “Yes,” she said.

“Where had she been?” Celia asked.

“Here,” she said. “Cherokee.”

“Was anyone else with her?” Hook asked.

“No. She came alone.”

“Do you know why she came here?” Celia asked.

Esther looked away. “I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone. She made me swear.”

“This is more important, Esther. Lucy may be in danger,” Hook said.

“To see the doctor,” she said.

“The doctor?” Celia asked. “But the orphanage doctor is in Carmen.”

“She didn't want to go to him,” Esther said.

“Do you know why?” Celia asked.

“She wouldn't talk about it, and she made me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone where she'd been.”

“Pregnant?” Celia asked.

Esther shrugged. “She didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't push her.”

“Do you know which doctor?” Hook asked.

“The one on Seventh, Dr. Betcher. I better get back now,” she said. “Don't tell Lucy I told you. I gave her my word.”

“No,” Hook said. “We won't. Thank you, Esther.”

*   *   *

After Esther had gone back in, Hook said, “We need to know for sure why she went to the doctor, Celia.”

“We could go talk to him,” she said.

Hook drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “They won't release her medical information.”

Celia took out her lipstick and drew it across her lips. Dropping it back into her purse, she said, “They would to me. The orphanage has legal guardianship of Lucy. As matron, I have access to her medical records.”

“You would ask then?”

“Crank this thing up,” she said. “And see if you can't get me there alive.”

*   *   *

Hook waited in front while Celia went in. After some time, she came out and slid into the road-rail.

“Well?” he said.

“At first he didn't want to release the information. When I explained that I had legal authority, he agreed to discuss the matter with me.”

“And?”

“A pregnancy test.” She studied her hands. “Positive.”

“That could explain why they ran away together,” he said.

“It could have.”

“But you don't think so?” he said.

“I asked if the bill had been paid. It had, but not by Bruce or by Lucy.”

Hook processed what Celia had just said.

“Whoever paid that bill had to have known that she was pregnant.”

Celia dropped her hands in her lap. “Exactly.”

“But who?”

Celia looked over at him. “The Spirit of Agape Orphanage paid the bill.”

 

36

 

H
OOK PULLED OVER
at the orphanage cemetery and shut off the road-rail. He looked out over the row of stones.

“I can feel the sadness here,” he said.

“Death
is
sad,” she said. “But more so when it's children.”

“Children without anyone,” he said. “Where's the purpose in that?”

“I thought I knew the purpose of life at one time,” she said.

“But not now?”

“Anyone who hasn't questioned the truth of their religion is either lying, or afraid, or both.”

He rolled down his window and smelled the freshly turned fields.

“If the orphanage paid that bill, it should have been in Lucy's records. Why wasn't it?”

Celia folded her arms over her chest. “Because they had something to hide?” she said. “Or maybe they were protecting someone else.”

“I can't see Eagleman looking out for anyone other than himself,” he said. “This is the bastard who puts a little girl out here to walk by herself.”

“You're thinking what I'm thinking, that maybe the baby was Eagleman's?”

Hook hung his arm through the steering wheel. “Yes, that would explain it, but it wouldn't explain why Bruce Mason died.”

“Maybe Eagleman killed him.”

“There's no evidence to support any of this,” he said.

“Maybe Bruce Mason hung himself. Maybe he knew the baby wasn't his, and he took his own life. Young boys can be impulsive that way.”

“There are too many possibilities here, and they all make sense. We have to rule some of them out.”

Celia fell silent for a moment. When she looked up, she said, “Like exactly where
was
Eagleman on the night of the hanging?”

Hook rolled up the window. “Yes.”

“Do we know what day Bruce Mason died?”

Hook thought for a moment. “The thirteenth. Friday the thirteenth. I remember the Artesia operator mentioning it.”

“Eagleman keeps a calendar on his desk, and he's quite meticulous about entering everything that he does.”

“A stickler for appointments, too,” Hook said.

“I could take a look.”

“Thanks, but too risky. Anyway, I want to think about all this. When in doubt, sleep on it.”

“Okay,” she said. “You'll let me know?”

“I'll call,” Hook said, starting up the road-rail. “Thanks for coming with me today. I wish it could have been a more pleasant outing.”

“Next time,” she said. “I better get back now.”

*   *   *

Hook found Patch gluing up half soles on a pair of work boots.

“Well, you're back in town,” he said. “How'd you find Cherokee?”

“I'd ask how you knew I went there, but what's the point?”

“Exactly,” he said. “And you better be careful of that goddang digger. He's worn the same pair of dress shoes for fifteen years. A man ain't earning an honest living if he can't wear out a pair of shoes more often than that.”

“I went there to deliver Samuel Ash to the funeral parlor,” Hook said. “But he turned out to be Bruce Mason instead.”

Patch stuck some tacks into the corner of his mouth. “That boy what held up the station in Cherokee?”

“The same. He came back a war hero but wound up on the hanging end of a rope.”

“Took that girl with him when he ran away, I hear,” he said.

“Guess you wouldn't know where she is now?”

Patch hammered in a tack. “My tracking nose ends at the city limits.”

“Mind if I use your phone?” Hook asked.

Patch started another tack and looked at Hook over his glasses. “Don't know why you should start asking permission now,” he said.

Hook pushed the door closed and dialed Popeye.

“Clovis,” Popeye said.

“Popeye, this is Hook. Has Junior Monroe checked in with you yet?”

“I've been thinking about taking over Eddie Preston's job, given all the time I spend keeping track of Junior Monroe.”

“You're too smart and pretty for that job, Popeye.”

“Blowing smoke up my skirt works about eighty percent of the time,” he said. “Junior Monroe called in this morning.”

“What did he find out about that Pampa business?”

“Damned if I know. He's still in Avard.”

“What?”

“Said a ballast scorcher came through and when he caught hold the grab iron, it yanked him into the next county. Said he had to walk all the way back to Avard. Had to sleep in the grain elevator, and the Frisco dumped a load of wheat on him in the dark. Said he damn near suffocated, that he had wheat up his nose, and in other places he couldn't mention.”

“Damn,” Hook said.

“Maybe
he
should take Eddie's job,” Popeye said.

“He sure enough qualifies. Do you hear anything about that bridge in Pampa? I'll have Eddie barking up my ass here in about two minutes.”

“Oh, it's up and running now that Truman said he'd nationalize the railroad.”

“The hell?”

“Said he'd conscript every goddang last striker into the army. There are not many things worse than railroading, but the army's one of them. Looks like the strike business is pretty much over.”

“Alright. Thanks, Popeye.”

“Listen, Hook, about that money?”

“Don't worry about it, Popeye. It's only a dollar you owe me, and I'm not worried about it.”

“I think you owe
me
the dollar, Hook. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure of it.”

“I'll be getting it to you payday, then, Popeye. I don't like owing a man money, even if it is just a dollar.”

*   *   *

Hook dialed Eddie.

“Security,” Eddie said.

“Eddie, Hook here.”

“Jesus, Runyon, is payday the only time you show up?”

“Looks like that Pampa thing is under control,” Hook said.

“Took the president to do it,” Eddie said.

“He has the atomic bomb, Eddie. I have Junior.”

“Where is that boy?”

“He's checking wheat cars in Avard. I think those Frisco bastards are picking up Santa Fe hoppers and taking them into Carmen. I been working day and night on it, but I don't figure to be asking overtime.”

“I don't want anything happening to that boy,” he said.

“Is my caboose about ready? I'm paying rent out of my own paycheck.”

“That machinist said there wasn't a damn thing wrong with those bushings, Runyon.”

“They wouldn't know from bushings, Eddie. I caught those bastards eating lunch and taking naps on my caboose.”

“And another thing,” Eddie said. “I get this report about some kind of box being stored in the goddang ice plant in Waynoka. What the hell you up to now?”

“Produce, Eddie. One of the reefer cars crapped out, and the boes were helping themselves to breakfast. I rescued it single-handed, so to speak, and put it on ice to save the company money.”

“I hadn't realized you were such a saint,” he said.

“No thanks necessary, Eddie. Just one of many sacrifices I've been prepared to make. Working for a boss like you makes a man think, you know.”

*   *   *

That night Hook walked to the package store and bought a half-pint of Beam. He missed having his caboose. Living in a shoe shop without his books forced him to pass the evening with a little more libation than he preferred. On top of that, without adequate water, he had to drink the damn stuff neat. He'd just chalk it up as one more good deed for the company.

He'd nearly gone to sleep when he heard the ring of the phone from Patch's supply room. Mixer followed him through the darkness and lay down on Hook's feet.

“Hello,” Hook said.

“Hook, this is Celia,” she said.

“Celia? Are you okay?”

“Yes. I know what you said about waiting, but I had a chance to get a look at Eagleman's calendar when he went for his evening walk.”

“Oh?”

“On Friday the thirteenth, he conducted the Spirit of Agape's regularly scheduled board meeting at two
P.M.
right here in his office.”

Hook listened to the silence on the other end. “Then he couldn't have done it,” he said.