“I must have called the sheriff ’s office ten times,” he complained, “and I always get the redneck queen, Mary Jane Cory. ‘I’m sorry, Sheriff Galton is out. I’m sorry, Sheriff Galton is with someone right now.’ I keep hearing all these rumors about Leona’s past, and I want a quote from him on that!”
Catherine considered. She was a little pleased to know something Tom didn’t know. She thought, He’d throttle me if he knew I was withholding a tidbit from him.
She almost told Tom to go ask Leila about the truth of what he had heard, but she knew she would never forgive herself if she did. As long as he had heard the rumors, though. She had a mischievous impulse.
“Go talk to Salton Sims,” she said, pokerfaced. “Salton knows something.”
“If I voluntarily talk to Salton, I
Catherine almost laughed out loud. But her little moment of mischief promptly fizzled when she glanced down at her desk and saw a hole for a picture on her sketch of the society page. The space hadn’t been crossed by the large “X” she drew whenever she sent a picture back to the offset darkroom.
“Omigod,” she said guiltily. She had forgotten to call the Barnes house to remind them to deliver their grandchild’s picture for today’s paper. She had picked up the phone to dial, casting a quick glance at the clock on the wall as she did so (it was an hour from the deadline), when Martin Barnes himself came through the front door and into the reception area.
Catherine heard Leila directing him to the reporters’ room-not that he needed much direction, since Catherine was in clear view-and then the planter was advancing across the worn carpet to stand before her desk. Catherine was self-conscious because of the conversation she had had with Jewel the day before. She examined Mr. Barnes covertly for signs of a romantic soul, but there he was: four-square Martin Barnes.
“How are you, Catherine?” he said mildly. “Haven’t seen you to talk to in a coon’s age.”
Mr. Barnes’s weathered but still handsome face expressed nothing but polite pleasure. Before Catherine could say anything, he went on. “I sure was surprised when Jimmy Gallon came out to my place yesterday. I didn’t think it was so all-fired important that I was on the same road where Leona got dumped.”
Catherine fluttered her hand in a meaningless gesture. She wished she hadn’t sent Tom off on a wild-goose chase to interview Salton Sims. She had a second to think, That’s what I get for being catty, before Barnes, slowly collecting his thoughts, began to ruminate again.
“I told him I was just out riding my land, same as I always do early in the morning,” Barnes said, looking at Catherine significantly. “Well, little Catherine Linton saw me, Jimmy says, and right afterward she found something nasty, something mighty bad. Course, by then I had heard about old Leona Gaites at church, so it wasn’t no surprise to me.”
Catherine could think of no conceivable response. Her reputation for silence was serving her well, she decided, for Barnes didn’t seem to expect a reply.
“And I said to him, ‘Sure, I saw that gal.’” Barnes went on slowly. “I wondered at it, too, her being out so early on a Saturday morning. First time in my life the police ever come by my house to ask me questions. Parked in front of my house, for everyone to see.” He sounded mildly resentful, but Catherine couldn’t decide whether or not the resentment was aimed at her. “Melba ’bout went wild,” he added glumly.
She wondered if Jewel had had time to report their conversation of yesterday to her lover.
“First time the police have ever been at my house, too,” Catherine said, with a poor imitation of brightness. “And the last time, I hope.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Tom stalk into the room and cast a look of utter disgust in her direction. He threw his pad and pencil on his desk and walked directly out again. Catherine saw him lean on the counter in Leila’s office, and heard the murmur of their voices.
No help from that quarter. Tom would happily let Martin Barnes talk her to death in retaliation for her sending him to Salton Sims to discover that Leona was “godless.”
At least Barnes was smiling at her faint joke. He reached inside his pocket and drew out a photograph.
“Here’s my picture of Chrissy for the paper,” he explained carefully. “My first grandchild, you know.” The planter beamed.
Catherine eyed the picture. It was even worse than the usual run of photos handed in to the
“Cute kid,” said Catherine faintly.
“Looks just like her grandpa, Sally says.”
That triggered laughter in Catherine, who decided that Martin was maligning himself. He was still a good- looking man, and this baby-Catherine bit the inside of her mouth ferociously, to keep from bursting into unforgivable giggles.
“Thanks for bringing it in,” she managed, her voice only slightly choked. “I’ll take it to the back right away, so it’ll be in the paper when you get it tomorrow.”
“We’re looking forward to it,” he assured her earnestly. “See you some other time, Catherine. I hope we don’t meet out in the fields no more.”
Catherine looked up from the picture sharply, but Barnes was already walking out. He had to turn sideways to edge through the reception room, for the little area had become crowded during their conversation.
Tom was still leaning over the counter talking to Leila, Carl Perkins was standing nearby with a folder in his hands that must contain his enterprises’ ads for the coming week, and, Catherine saw with a thud, Sheriff Galton was leaning against the wall with an air of infinite patience. Mrs. Weilenmann was standing with Randall in the doorway of his office, deep in discussion.
When Tom straightened up from the counter and turned to see who was behind him, his whole body stiffened (like a bird dog, Catherine thought), as he realized that the object of his phone calls was within reach. Catherine couldn’t hear what he said, but she saw Galton shake his head, smiling, as Tom’s mouth moved nonstop.
Tom went on talking, and Galton shook his head again, with less of a smile. Tom was being persistent. As usual, Mr. Perkins turned away, trying to appear uninvolved in their exchange. Randall and Mrs. Weilenmann finished their talk, and, as the librarian worked her way out of the knot of people, Randall ushered Galton into his office.
It was the first time she had seen Randall that day. He caught a glimpse of her face and gave her a quick wave.
Catherine smiled back. Mrs. Weilenmann, noticing her at the same time, assumed the smile was for her. She raised a hand in greeting.
As Catherine looked at the knot of familiar faces, her smile suddenly stiffened. One of these, she thought. Maybe one of these people…She saw an anonymous arm rising and falling, saw blood pouring through gray hair.
Why? she wondered frantically. Why? The nightmare was before her eyes again, all the more horrible in this hot, sun-drenched, normal room. I’ll face it, she decided. I have to face it squarely.
She looked at the worst.
Randall, who had the strength of an athlete. His reason: Leona’s threats to expose his father’s acceptance of a bribe. But, Catherine rebutted swiftly, he told me about that himself, when he certainly didn’t need to. She then considered Randall’s mother, Angel, for the same reason, but she knew Miss Angel was not physically strong enough to kill someone in the way Leona had been killed.
Sheriff Galton. His son was selling drugs. The shame of it would break James Galton, privately and publicly, if it became generally known. And Leona had had a habit of finding things out.
Mrs. Weilenmann, that sad and misplaced woman. Her rumored white husband was supposed to have been a lawyer. Why would such a woman return to the South, where she was neither fish nor fowl? Catherine had always imagined that a long sad story was buried behind those dignified toffee-colored features.
Tom had resumed his conversation with Leila. If Leona had seen Tom buying dope Friday night…A drug conviction would bar him from ever holding another reporting job. Reporters were too thick on the ground now for any editor to have to consider hiring a risk.
