Husband and Wives (24 page)

‘Yeah? Where is the country club?’

‘South end,’ he said, pointing in a southerly direction. ‘Straight down Elm Street, the main one here, till you get to Willow Lane, cross Willow and there’s the road up to the club.’

‘So somebody could come in to the country club and keep on going into the residential area, is that what you’re saying?’

‘Well, yeah. But, you know, only the people who live here know about that road offa Willow Lane that goes to the club. It’s more like a maintenance road.’

‘Well, let me sign in for today. I’m gonna drive by the Hudsons for a minute.’

He handed me the sign-in sheet and I signed and timed it, said goodbye and headed out to my Jeep.

So, I thought, there’s another way to get into The Branches. How hard, I wondered, was it to get into the country club? Did they have a guarded entrance, like the residential side? Or was the driveway open and you only had to show ID at the entrance to the club? That’s the way it had been the only time I’d ever been to a country club, one near Tulsa that a cousin on my daddy’s side took me to back when I was married to my first wife. If so, this really opened up the field on who murdered Mary Hudson.

As it was just about dinnertime, the main Hudson house, Sister Mary’s former home, was jumping. All the kids, Sister Mary’s, Sister Carol Anne’s, and Sister Rachael’s, were all out front screaming and carrying on. The big yellow dog, Butch, was with them, having as much fun as the rest of ’em. I sat in my Jeep for a minute and just watched. It made me kinda sad to think of Johnny Mac not growing up like this – with lots of siblings and stuff. Hell, my kid didn’t even have neighbor kids to hang out with, since we lived in the country. But the truth of it was, Johnny Mac spent most of his time either in school or at the daycare at the hospital, and he had a bucketful of friends at each place, so I guess he was OK. But it did give you pause for thought. The one thing I could do to remedy the situation, was find my boy his own big yellow dog.

I finally got out of the Jeep and headed up to the house, realizing for the first time since I’d pulled up that all the kids, not just Sister Rachael’s children, but the Hudson children as well, were in normal clothes. OK, normal’s probably not the right word, but you know what I mean. The girls weren’t wearing those God-awful baggy dresses and the boys were mostly wearing T-shirts with logos.

Before I even got inside, I noticed a change to the house. The plain doormat that had been in place during Sister Mary’s reign had been exchanged for one that said ‘Welcome to our Home.’ The double oak doors had large wreaths on both sides, real fall-looking, with pinecones and corn cobs and colored leaves and such. There was also a wooden bench sitting on the front walkway with a full-size scarecrow sitting there big as life.

I rang the doorbell and stood back, waiting. Carol Anne opened the door wearing blue jeans and a man’s shirt.

‘Hey, Ms Hudson,’ I said.

‘Hey back, Sheriff,’ she said, smiling. ‘Want to come in?’

‘Thanks,’ I said and stepped over the threshold into an entirely new house. ‘I noticed you and the kids are wearing different kinds of clothes.’

‘We decided to go back to the way things were in Oregon, instead of wearing the required clothing of our church here. We’re not the first to be so bold,’ she said.

‘Looks good,’ I said.

Looking around the house, I noticed the beige-on-beige of Sister Mary’s house had been replaced with the bright colors of Sister Carol Anne’s paintings and wall hangings. The walls were still beige, but they were covered with color. ‘House looks nice,’ I said.

‘Thanks,’ she said as she shut the door behind me. ‘It was your wife’s idea.’

‘Smart lady,’ I said.

‘Jerry’s back in the family room,’ she said, leading the way.

Jerry was in a recliner with Mark bouncing on one of Jerry’s outstretched legs. Seeing me, he said, ‘Good for the quads,’ and laughed as the baby bounced harder and harder, holding on to his daddy’s index fingers.

Carol Anne rescued the baby, picking him up and nuzzling his neck. ‘You two talk while I go change this fella. I could smell him from the doorway.’

‘We guys gotta have a manly smell, honey,’ Jerry said.

‘Little too manly for me!’ Carol Anne said, carrying the laughing baby like a football into another room.

‘So, Sheriff, what’s up?’ Jerry asked.

‘It’s Milt, Jerry, if you don’t mind.’

‘Not a bit. What can I do for you?’

‘Just wanted to check in, after the funeral and all, see how everybody’s doing, see if there’s anything new y’all can tell me,’ I said.

Jerry shook his head. ‘Wish there was,’ he said. ‘I still can’t totally believe it. I know she’s gone, but that someone killed her on purpose?’ He shook his head. ‘No, I still can’t believe that.’

‘But you know it to be true, don’t you, Jerry?’ I asked.

He stared at his feet for a while, then looked up at me. ‘I was with Mary longer than I wasn’t. Maybe twice as long. We’d known each other since we were in nursery together at our church in Oregon. Were best friends until sophomore year in high school when we decided we were more than friends and wanted to marry. Our parents wouldn’t let us, so we dated until graduation. Then we got married, with their blessings. She was like half my soul.’ Again, he shook his head. ‘I know someone did this to her, Milt,’ he said, finally looking up at me, ‘but it’s hard to get my head around. Mary was . . . almost perfect. She only raised her voice to me once – right after Lynnie, our oldest, was born. Doctor said it was post-partum depression.’ He smiled. ‘I didn’t put the dishes away properly,’ he said.

I laughed. ‘That’ll still get me in hot water,’ I said.

‘Dr McDonnell yells at you?’ he asked, his eyes wide.

‘Naw. Much worse. She corrects me. In this tone of voice like she’s speaking to our six-year-old.’

Jerry nodded his head. ‘Oh, yeah, Carol Anne uses that tone on me.’

I decided to try out a theory. ‘Would Sister Mary ever butt into somebody else’s business?’ I asked.

Jerry turned red. ‘In what way?’ he asked, avoiding eye contact.

‘In any way,’ I said.

‘I can’t imagine—’ Jerry started, but Carol Anne came into the room.

‘Jerry, get serious!’ Looking at me, she said, ‘Mary was a fixer, and she was almost always right. I’m not saying she butted into other people’s lives, but if there was something glaringly wrong, she’d try to help. And yes, there were people who’d get mad at her about it, but the only ones I can think of thanked her later because her words helped them!’

‘Can you give me some examples?’ I asked.

‘Like back home, in Oregon?’ Carol Anne said. ‘There was this girl who was going to marry this older man who already had two wives – both of whom looked pretty miserable – and Mary talked the younger of the two into telling this girl how bad it was. The older man had money and the girl thought it would be an easy marriage, but the second wife told her he married younger women to clean the house since he was too cheap to hire a maid.’

‘Anything around here—’ I started.

‘So then she goes up to the old man and tells him he’d have a happier family if he just hired a maid for this big old house of his and let his wives tend to their children, and he did it! And last I heard the three of them, the old man and his two wives, are doing just fine!’

‘But around here, Sister Carol Anne? Since y’all moved to Oklahoma?’

‘Did she try fixing things?’ she asked.

I nodded.

Carol Anne looked at her husband and stood up. By the time I looked at Jerry, there was nothing going on, but I could swear a message was sent between the two of them that I wasn’t privy to.

‘Dinner’s almost ready, Sheriff. Won’t you join us?’ she asked as she headed for the kitchen.

There were many reasons why I answered that question the way I did. One, I wanted to see how the two of them would react; two, I wanted to see if I could get more information out of them; three, whatever she was cooking smelled damned good, and four, I was hungry.

So I said, ‘Sure, ma’am, I’d love to.’

Whatever you want to say about the lifestyle, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Sister Carol Anne’s cooking. Like her home decoration, it was colorful and happy and, probably unlike her home decoration, delicious. I’m not a man who’s big on casseroles, but this one had lots of cheese, green chilies, big hunks of beef, onions, all sorts of good tasting stuff, and then there was a big salad to go with it. She’d made three casseroles to fill up her crowd, but there was plenty left for me to have seconds. She seemed pleased when I accepted her offer of another helping.

There wasn’t much to learn at dinner, as the large dining-room table, now extended to fill up even more room, and with extra chairs from Carol Anne’s old house, consisted of three adults and fifteen children. There was so much talking going on that I couldn’t keep up, much less start a conversation of my own.

Afterwards, as the children cleared the table, we adults took to the living room, away from the kitchen, so we could talk.

‘Sister Carol Anne—’

‘Sheriff, please drop the “sister,”’ she said. ‘Carol Anne is fine.’

‘I’m Milt,’ I said. ‘OK, anyway, before dinner, we were talking about how Mary liked to fix things. Did she keep up this practice when y’all moved here?’ I’d asked the question before, but this time I watched Jerry Hudson to see what he did.

Carol Anne didn’t answer. Jerry sat mute. Finally Carol Anne said to her husband, ‘I’m not going to lie.’

Jerry sighed and sat forward in his chair, elbows on knees, hands clasped together, head bowed. His lips were moving and his eyes were closed and I coulda sworn he was praying. Probably was.

Before he could say anything though, Lynnie came running in from the kitchen, screaming. ‘Daddy! Come quick! Mama Carol Anne! Hurry!’

We all jumped up and ran into the kitchen. The big yellow dog was sitting on its haunches by the dog door, her tail wagging fit to beat the band, and in her mouth was a large metal meat tenderizer, some blood, blonde hair, and dirt still clinging to it.

ELEVEN

Milt Kovak – Saturday

T
here were fifteen kids and three adults all standing around staring at the dog. Finally I got a grip, and said, ‘Carol Anne, would you please hand me one of them rubber gloves and a paper bag if you got it.’

‘Uh huh,’ she said then moved slowly to the sink, grabbed a blue rubber glove and handed it to me. Slowly, I guess so as not to spook the dog, she made her way to the pantry, her eyes still on Butch, opened the door quietly and reached in for a brown paper bag. Coming back slowly she handed it to me.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Would you open the bag?’ I asked, handing it back to her.

She did so as I gingerly went up to Butch, rubbed her head, said, ‘Good girl,’ a couple of times, then, with the rubber glove in my hand, gingerly took hold of the meat tenderizer. Butch growled and I let go, turned, and looked at Jerry.

He was so pale I thought he might pass out. Carol Anne must have looked at him, too, because she said, ‘Jerry, sit down. Lynnie, help him.’

Lynnie grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and helped her dad sit down.

‘Hey, girl,’ Carol Anne said to the dog in a pleasant voice. ‘Whatcha got, girl?’ Carol Anne held her hand out and Butch dropped the tenderizer on the floor.

Carol Anne went for it, but I grabbed her hand. ‘Prints,’ I said, as I picked up the hitting end with the glove. Carol Anne held out the bag and I set it inside, took the bag from her, and rolled it closed.

‘First, keep the dog in, and don’t let any of the kids go out back until after I can get a crime tech out here to see if maybe we can find out where this came from,’ I said, holding up the bag. I sighed real big. ‘OK, y’all, I gotta get this out to my car and get it in an evidence bag, seal it and all that sh— stuff, so thank you for a wonderful meal and—’ I looked at Jerry, his head in his hands, elbows on knees, what I could see of his face still awfully pale. ‘Jerry – man, I’m sorry,’ I said.

I nodded at Carol Anne who nodded back, but quickly returned her concentration to her husband.

I headed outside to my car, hardly noticing Dennis Rigsby, Carol Anne’s brother, sneaking out of Sister Rene’s house.

Milt Kovak – Sunday

It was real late when I got home. After I’d left the Hudsons’ house, I’d gone straight to the station, which was dark and quiet, and locked up the evidence in the safe in my office.

The next morning I sent Jean and Johnny Mac on to church and gave a call out to Charlie Smith. We don’t have any forensic people on staff at the sheriff’s department, but Charlie had found this kid, straight out of high school, who was a forensic wunderkind. He was going to college full-time at OU up the road in Norman – twice a week actually on the campus, the rest of the time on the computer – and working full-time, more or less, for Charlie. Charlie told me he’d let the kid work upside down like a bat if that’s what he wanted to do.

Charlie and the kid, Dell Sherman-Baxter (until lately, the only kid I knew of in Prophesy County with two mamas – different situation though) met me at the police station around eight a.m. I’d gone by the sheriff’s department first to pick up the evidence, and had it with me. This was my first time to meet Dell Sherman-Baxter, and of course I had my own idea of what he’d look like: skinny, wimpy, thick glasses, crooked teeth, zits, and bad breath. Won’t be the last time I’m totally wrong.

Dell Sherman-Baxter was about six foot one inch, maybe 180 pounds, wide shoulders, slim hips, blonde hair, blue eyes, clear skin and a smile that would make a lot of women wet their panties. He shook my hand like a grown-up and said, ‘Sheriff, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Dell, likewise. I hear you know a little something about forensics.’

The boy blushed. ‘Yes, sir. It’s like my passion.’

I held up the bag. ‘What I have here, I do believe, is a murder weapon. We had a woman out in the county bludgeoned to death—’

‘Mrs Hudson, the polygamy family,’ he said.

‘That’s the one. One of my deputies found a meat tenderizer missing from Mrs Hudson’s kitchen. The ME agreed that the wound could have been inflicted by such an instrument. The dog showed up with this last night.’