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Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (43 page)

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
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Another thing that puzzled the sheriff was Dolan’s not knowing that Martin Conroy had died. He remembered seeing the obituary in the Wichita Falls paper and wondering if the Conroy here in Oklahoma selling oil leases was related. It would be strange, if true, that Conroy’s own daughter hadn’t been notified of his death.
The sun was just coming up when the sheriff drove into Red Rock. First, he decided, he’d stop by the doctor’s office and ask him to come down to the funeral parlor and take a look at the corpse, then he’d go to the telephone office. After that he was going to Millie’s Diner, drink a gallon of coffee, and treat himself to breakfast.
* * *
“I just can’t believe that poor woman’s dead. I just can’t believe it. The poor, poor thin’.” Pernie Austin sat at the kitchen table with her husband and the sheriff. “I should have done somethin’. I should have gone right over there and told him that if he didn’t do right by that poor thin’ and get her to a doctor, I was going to the law. More coffee, Sheriff?”
“No thanks. What do you mean, do right?”
“You know. Stop spendin’ his time moonin’ over Henry Ann and look after his sick wife. Flitter! Ever’body knows he took the boy from his mother and gave him to Henry Ann to raise. She’s almost an old maid. Guess she was gettin’ desperate for a man.”
“Pernie, don’t get carried away,” Mr. Austin cautioned.
“Land sakes! Ever’body knows they’ve been carryin’ on. The sheriff ought to know. A married man who’d smell around after another woman right under his sick wife’s nose is apt to do anything . . . even . . . even get rid of her. I knew right off that he was no good.”
“Is young Chris here?”
The question came so suddenly that neither of the Austins had time to prepare for it.
“Why do you want . . . to know?” Mrs. Austin stammered.
“I plan to talk to all the men in the area. Is he here?”
“He . . . he went to Ardmore . . . to visit my sister.”
“Pernie, you don’t know that. Tell the sheriff the truth. Chris didn’t come home last night. We don’t know where he went.”
“Chris-to-pher often goes to Ardmore,” Mrs. Austin insisted.
“I’ve got to be going. I’ll talk to Chris later.” The sheriff moved his chair back from the table and got to his feet. “You say the fire over at the Dolans’ started around ten o’clock?”
“I don’t know when it started, but it was a little after that that our hired man woke me. He could see the flames from where he sleeps in the hayloft.”
“Tom Dolan set it to cover up his crime. It’s as plain as the nose on your face!” Mrs. Austin insisted, and followed her husband and the sheriff to the front porch. “He set his sights on bigger things, and Henry Ann was so hard-up for a man that—”
“Pernie, hush up!”
With her mouth opened to say something more, Mrs. Austin let it hang and looked at her husband in stunned silence. He had never in all their married years said such a thing to her. Her eyes shifted past him to the car that was turning into the yard.
“Chris-to-pher’s home. Who’s that . . . with him?” Then, “No . . . no. He’d not bring
her
here!”
Chris got out of the car, leaned in to say something to the girl in the front seat, then came toward the group on the porch with a worried frown on his face.
“Morning, Sheriff. Is something wrong here?”
“Morning, Chris. Not here. Been over to Ardmore?”
“Not lately.” Chris’s eyes went to the hostile look on his mother’s face. “You called him out here because I didn’t come home. Good Lord, Mama. I’m a grown man. I’m twenty-five years old—”
“—And actin’ like you don’t have a brain in your head,” his mother snapped back.
“Where were you, Austin?”
“I went to Wichita Falls and got married.” Looking directly at his mother, he pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to the sheriff. “The wedding paper, Sheriff. The preacher will have it recorded at the courthouse this morning. We left Red Rock about six o’clock, were married around nine o’clock, spent the night at the Alamo Hotel. Here’s the receipt for the bill.” He dug a paper out of his shirt pocket. “Cost two dollars.”
“No! You didn’t!” Mrs. Austin gasped. “You . . . you married that . . . whore?”
“I married a sweet and good girl that I love very much. Don’t ever, ever, call her that again.” Chris stood with his clenched fists on his hips.
“Congratulations, Austin.” The sheriff held out his hand. “Seems like you got an airtight alibi. I’ll be on my way, folks.” He tipped his hat to Mrs. Austin and hurried out to his car.
“What did he mean—I had an airtight alibi?”
When Mrs. Austin didn’t answer, Mr. Austin did. “Tom Dolan’s wife was murdered last night. The sheriff was here about that—doing his job.”
“Murdered? Good grief! Does he know who did it?”
“Her husband, that no-good, wild-eyed Catholic, did it.” Mrs. Austin’s voice was unnaturally loud and abrasive.
“The sheriff don’t know who did it.” Mr. Austin corrected his wife with a frown. He struck a match on the sole of his shoe and held the flame to the bowl of his pipe.
“Don’t think you’ll bring that hussy here to live,” she said to Chris. “I’ll not have her or her bastard in my house.”
“I’m not bringing her here. I came to get some of my things and to tell you that I’m taking the car and going to California.” He brushed by his mother and went into the house. She followed him into his room.
“California? You’re leaving? Well! You’re not taking our car.”
“Hush up, Pernie!”
“Don’t you tell me to hush up.” Mrs. Austin turned on her husband. “If you don’t have the backbone to stand up to him, I do. We’ve fed and clothed him all these years, and he turns his back on us for a whore that’s been with every man on Mud Creek.”
His wife’s words seemed to float right over Mr. Austin’s head.
“There’s an extra gallon of oil in the shed, son. The luggage rack that fits on the fender is in there, too.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Mrs. Austin was too angry to speak in a normal tone; her voice squeaked.
“Mama, I don’t want to leave with you mad at me, but I’m going. I’ve worked here all my life, and I would stay; but I love Opal, and as long as you feel the way you do, I have no choice but to take her and make a life for us someplace else.”
“Henry Ann put you up to this. It’s what you expect from a woman who fornicates with another woman’s husband.”
Chris emptied the bureau drawers, shoved his clothes down in a pillowcase and took it to the front porch. He came back for his shotgun, his chess game, and the sheepskin coat he’d bought the winter before. Mrs. Austin stood on the porch when Chris carried his belongings to the car.
“You’d better take that toolbox in the shed, son,” Mr. Austin said when he carried out the oil and the luggage rack.
“Thank you, Daddy. Opal’s grandpa is going with us. He knows a lot about fixing things. No hard feelings about me taking the car?”
“None. You helped pay for it. I’d like to hear from you from time to time. You’re a good boy and a good worker. You’ll do all right whatever you do.”
“It means a lot to me to know you think that.”
“Hold on a minute. Don’t go till I get back.”
Chris stood by the car while Mr. Austin went to the house. Soon he could hear his mother shrieking, then loud wails as the screen door slammed behind his father.
“Here’s five hundred dollars, son. You’ve earned it.” He handed Chris a cloth sack. “You’ve done a man’s work since you were twelve. That’s less than fifty dollars a year.”
“But . . . I never expected—I don’t want you to be without—”
“We’ve got a few hundred left. We’re far better off than most folks.”
“But . . . Mama—”
“She’ll get over it. I should’ve clamped down on her long ago. It was just easier not to raise a fuss.”
“Thanks, Daddy. This’ll really help. I wasn’t as confident as I made out.” Chris put his arms around his father and hugged him for the first time since he was a little boy. “I’ll let you know where I am; and if you ever need me, I’ll come.”
“I’m glad you’ll be seein’ more than Red Rock and Mud Creek, son.”
“Come meet Opal, Daddy. She’s not what Mama says she is.”
When the car pulled away from the yard, Mr. Austin waved good-bye to his son and headed for the shed, where he could wipe his eyes before going back into the house.

 

Chapter Twenty-three
“Henry Ann, Grant’s going to take me to town, but I’ll be back if Daddy doesn’t need the car.” Karen had walked out under the tree to where Henry Ann was swinging Jay.
“I suppose it’s all over town by now about . . . Emmajean.”
“I’m sure it is. If Sheriff Watson hasn’t spread the news, Elmer at the funeral home must have.”
“Who do you suppose did such a terrible thing?” In her mind Henry Ann had asked the same question a dozen times.
“It’s got to have been a tramp. I can’t think of anyone I know who could do such a thing. Not even Pete Perry.”
It was hard for Henry Ann to think that it was only a little past noon. So many surprising things had happened during the past twenty-four hours, the last of which was Chris stopping by to tell her that he and Opal were married and going to California.
“We know for sure that it wasn’t Grant, Johnny, Tom, or Chris. Chris was in Wichita Falls getting married. It took falling in love to make him stand up to his mother.”
“I’m glad for him and Opal. I hope we hear from them someday. Is Tom coming back over here?”
“He’ll be over for supper. Johnny was going out to see about his cattle. I tried to get him to let Johnny drive him in to see Doctor Hendricks about his hands, but he wouldn’t go.”
Grant came from the house. “I’ll not be gone long, Henry Ann. Anything you want from town?”
“Tom will need a shirt and a pair of pants.” She reached into her dress pocket for some bills and pressed them into Grant’s hand. “And, if you don’t mind, go by the doctor’s office and get some ointment for burns. His hands are a solid blister.”
“All right. I want to stop by and see Mr. Phillips. He should know the straight of what went on.”
“Bring a block of ice, too. Come back if you can, Karen. It’s a comfort to have you here.”
* * *
“Where can we go to talk . . . and be out of sight?” Grant, driving with one hand, reached for Karen’s with the other.
“There’s a lane just beyond the trees ahead. It goes around a bend and on down to the creek, but the bridge is out.”
“Have you been there before?”
“Not to do what you have in mind.”
“And how do you know what that is, Miss Smarty?”
“Because it’s what I have in mind, Mr. Smarty.” Her shining eyes held his and she squeezed the hand holding hers.
Grant laughed. He was delighted with her honesty, her wit, and her ability to make him feel wonderful. After they rounded the bend, he stopped the car in the shade of a row of hedge trees and turned to her, took her in his arms, tilted her chin, and steadied her face.
“I’ve seen your face behind my closed lids every night since I met you. Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Only for the very lucky ones.” Her voice shook as she spoke.
He closed her eyes with kisses and heard her heart pounding. His lips moved down to hers and parted. The kiss was long and deep and sweet. When it was over he moved her face to the curve of his neck.
“Don’t say anything,” he whispered in her ear, the warmth of his breath caressing the lobe. The scent of him was in her nostrils. He found her lips again and sealed her sighs of pleasure with a long and hungry kiss. “I’m crazy about you.”
“I like you, too.”
“Like?” He nuzzled her lips with his. “You can do better than that.” She liked the happiness in his voice.
“I . . . I’m crazy about you, too.”
“That’s better. Much better.”
With his arm around her he settled her close to him on the seat and held her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing the palm.
“I want you to know all about me before I ask you to share my life.”
“Are you . . . going to ask me?”
“After I tell you that I’ve been bumming around for the past couple of years because my inability to do my job got a man killed. I feel so guilty that at times I put my feet in action and try to run from it. I’m tired of running. I realize now that I’ve got to accept what I can’t help and live with it.”
“Tell me about it.” Her hand went to his cheek. “Tell me everything.”
“I was born and raised in Tulsa. Oklahoma has always been home to me. My father was reasonably well off and could afford to send me back East to Harvard. I graduated from there, went on to law school and was accepted as a junior partner in one of the top law firms in Boston.”
BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
12.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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