Too Black for Heaven (11 page)

Chapter Twenty

T
HE WINDOW
was of normal size, screened with strong steel mesh. At two o’clock in the morning, the only traffic in the square was the swift passing of official cars. They swooped into the intersection like luminous-eyed owls, then slackened speed to light in the paved parking lot behind the red brick courthouse.

The detention cell was small but clean. It contained a wash basin, a lidless toilet and a single bunk bed held by chains to a metal wall. A naked bulb burned in the ceiling. The bed was the only place to sit. Dona sat very still on the edge of the thin mattress, trying to hear what the muted voices in Sheriff Early’s office were saying.

A disheveled Negress across the corridor peered at Dona through the bars of her cell. “What you do, white girl?” she asked. “What fo’ they got you in heah?”

“A man was killed,” Dona told her.

“Who?”

“Mr. Sterling.”

“Blaih Sterlin’?”

“Yes.”

“You one of the party girls he fetch down from Natchez?”

“No.”

“How he killed?”

“With a gun.”

“They think you killed him?”

“At least, they’re holding me.”

“You do it?”

“No.”

“Then why doan you git a lawyer?”

“They say I can phone in the morning.”

“Always somethin’. But you got no call to worry. Not so long you white. Me, I’m good for thirty days. Jist fo’ gittin’ drunk.” She brightened. “I had me a good time though.”

Dona was embarrassed for the girl. She opened her purse and looked in it. The only four objects left in it were her compact, a comb, a partly-filled package of cigarettes and a box of matches with ERNIE’S BEER PARLOR printed on the cover.

For want of something better to do she recombed her hair and repaired her make-up. As she looked at her face in her compact mirror, she wished she knew more about this business of having colored blood. If she was colored, why wasn’t she black?

She sat pleating her skirt, trying not to be frightened. What she’d come to do had taken place but not as she’d planned it. Sterling had lived long enough to talk to one of the deputies. God knew what he’d told him.

She returned her compact to her purse as Deputy Sheriff Ransom unlocked the door of the detention cell. “If you’ll come with me, please, Miss Santos.”

Dona stood up. “Yes, sir.” For a frightening moment her knees refused to support her and she had to catch at one of the chains suspending the bed. “Where are you taking me?”

“Just down the hall,” Ransom said. “The sheriff wants to talk to you again. You know Sterlin’s daid?”

“Yes. One of the deputies told me.”

Her chin tilted and she grasped the strap of the bag so hard her fingers ached as she walked down the narrow corridor toward the open steel door at the far end.

“Good luck, honey,” the Negress called after her.

Dona resolved whatever they charged her with, whatever they did to her, she wouldn’t admit the truth. She would not involve Estrella. She wouldn’t allow the newspapers and the radio and the television to make a holiday of this.

Dona closed her eyes and said a Hail Mary, not for herself but for Estrella.

Ransom was still her friend. “Feeling a little queasy, huh?”

“A little,” Dona admitted.

He patted her arm. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No.”

“Then you jist hold tight. It may take a little time but it’ll come out all right. You’ll see.”

There were a dozen men in Sheriff Early’s office, big men, deeply tanned. Dona recognized four of them as the two deputies first to arrive at the cottage, County Attorney Yarnell and Sheriff Early. They all took off their hats as she entered. Ransom guided her to a chair in front of Early’s desk. The sheriff stood up and motioned to the chair.

“Please be seated, Miss Santos.”

“Thank you.”

“Feeling a little better?”

“A lot better.”

“Would you like a glass of water or perhaps something stronger?”

“No, thank you.”

The phone on Early’s desk rang. “Excuse me.”

Dona sat looking around the office. A huge map covered one wall. There was a bank of green filing cases on whose top a rotating fan purred. As it oscillated, a ripple of warm air moved the cigar and cigarette smoke from one side of the office to the other. Through the unbarred window she could see a section of the night-filled square.

Sheriff Early finished his phone conversation, made a few notes on the pad in front of him and looked back at Dona. “Is your story still the same, Miss Santos?”

“It is.”

“You didn’t kill Blair Sterling?”

“No.”

“You realize your story doesn’t jibe with the statement made by Sterling just before he died?”

“So you told me during the preliminary interrogation.”

County Attorney Yarnell rested one thigh on the desk. “You seem familiar with police terminology, Miss Santos.”

Dona looked up at him. “I was engaged to a lieutenant of detectives in Chicago.”

“Were engaged?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you break your engagement?”

Dona brushed a wisp of hair that was bothering her away from her forehead. Her cheeks felt feverish. “I don’t see how that concerns this incident.”

Sheriff Early said, “A good many things concern a homicide, Miss Santos.” He motioned to a deputy holding a clipboard. “Read Sterling’s statement to Miss Santos, Tom.”

The deputy cleared his throat. “All of it?”

“Just that part about the actual shooting.”

The deputy cleared his throat again and read the paper on his clipboard. ‘After bein’ intimate with her in the cottage, with her consent and active cooperation, instead of agreein’ to accept the fee of fifty dollars, the girl who calls herself Dona Santos demanded that I give her five hundred dollars or she would go to the sheriff’s office and claim I raped her.’”

“That’s a lie,” Dona cried.

“Please, Miss Santos,” Sheriff Early said.

The deputy continued, “‘Naturally, I refused. On my refusal, she became very angry an’ dressed an’ walked out to her car, claimin’ she was goin’ to make trouble fo’ me. I dressed and followed her tryin’ to persuade her from makin’ a fool of herself. We stood beside her car, arguin’ fo’ some time. Then I lost my temper an’ told her to do whatever she damn pleased an’ started back toward the cottage. As I did, I heard three pistol reports an’ felt a sharp pain in my back. I turned and saw her holdin’ a revolver she’d taken from her bag.’” The deputy looked up from the clipboard. “You want me to go on, sheriff?”

“That’s enough for now,” Early said. “Did Mr. Sterling seem delirious when he dictated this statement?”

The deputy shook his head. “No, sir. He did not. He was in considerable pain but I’d say his mind was clear.”

Sheriff Early looked back at Dona. “Would you care to change your story, Miss Santos?”

Dona sat with her hands clenched in her lap. The smoke-choked room faded out and she was back in frenzied mental flight. Even dying, Blair Sterling had remained in character. He had lied deliberately, maliciously, undoubtedly amused.

If she claimed him for her father and attempted to prove he had tried to force unnatural relations on her, even if they thought she’d shot him, the coroner’s jury would acquit her. But in saving herself she would bring about the one thing she was trying to avoid. “No, I would not. The statement as read to me is a he.”

“Why should he say ‘the girl who calls herself Dona Santos?’”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

Sheriff Early sighed. “Okay. For the record. And you take this down, Tom.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you state your name, Miss?”

“Dona Santos.”

“Where is your permanent home?”

“In Chicago.”

“State the address.”

“Five-forty-six Lake Shore Drive.”

“How long have you been in Blairville?”

Dona counted on her fingers. “This is the fourth night.”

“When did you first meet Blair Sterling?”

“The afternoon after the night I arrived.”

“Where?”

“At his house.”

“Why did you go there?”

“To ask the rental price of the cottage on Loon Lake.”

“You just picked the Sterling cottage at random?”

“No. A Judge Harris had a colored boy named Beau Jackson show me several places. Two of them were on the river, and the one on Loon Lake.”

“You’d met Blair Sterling before?”

“No, sir.”

“Still, you were intimate with him that same night for a fee of fifty dollars?”

“No, sir. I was never intimate with him.”

“That doesn’t jibe with the forepart of Sterling’s statement. He told my deputies you were the hottest little chippie he’d come across for some time. Pardon me, Miss, those were his words. And he’d been glad to pay you fifty dollars on four separate occasions since your arrival in Blairville.”

“That isn’t true.”

“You don’t prostitute yourself?”

“No, sir.”

“You’ve never been arrested on charges of prostitution or soliciting?”

“No, sir.”

Sheriff Early took a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “You don’t need to take this down, Tom. This is off the record.” He offered the package of cigarettes to Dona. “Cigarette?”

“No, thank you.”

“You don’t smoke?”

“Yes. I just don’t care for one right now.”

The sheriff put a cigarette in his mouth and lighted it. “With your permission, Miss Santos. Frankly, I don’t know what to think. I have no wish to embarrass you. I consider myself a fair judge of character and the one time I met you in Chief Simpson’s office, I was quite impressed. On the other hand, a dying man’s statement is not only admissible in a court of law, it’s as good as if he swore it on the Bible. Had Blair Sterling any reason to low-rate your character?”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He wanted me to be intimate with him and I wouldn’t.”

One of the deputies in the office drawled, “We all know how Blair was that way. He’s been wrestlin’ everythin’ in skirts ever since he found out about girls.”

Sheriff Early said, sharply, “Watch your language, Eli.”

“I’m sorry,” the deputy apologized. “I spoke out afore I thought.”

County Attorney Yarnell took up the questioning. “Dona Santos is your right name?”

“It is.”

“And Estrella Santos is your mother?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I seem to be asking personal questions, I’ve a reason. How much would you say your mother earns in a year?”

“Last year, with the royalties from her records and a dozen TV guest appearances, she paid taxes on nearly three hundred thousand dollars.”

“Your mother is generous with you, Miss Santos?”

“Very generous.”

“She gave you that expensive Cadillac you drive?”

“As an engagement present.”

“This the engagement that was broken?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I suppose you have charge accounts in the stores where you buy your clothes?”

“I have.”

“How about pocket money?”

“I’ve only to ask for any amount I want.”

“In other words, you’re under no financial compulsion to commercialize your body.” Yarnell was sitting with one hip on Early’s desk. He stood up. “It beats me.”

Sheriff Early said, “Let’s get back to the record.” He nodded to the man taking the interrogation notes in short hand. “Suppose, Miss Santos, you tell us in your own words just what did happen in the cottage.”

Dona thought carefully before she spoke. One word could trip her. “Well, during the afternoon, that was yesterday afternoon, I made up my mind to return to Chicago.”

“Despite the fact that you’d paid a month’s rent on the lake cottage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What made you change your mind about staying?”

“No particular reason. A whim.”

“Go on.”

“I returned to the cottage and found Mr. Sterling there.”

“Inside the cottage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what condition?”

“He’d been drinking heavily.”

“What happened then?”

“I asked him to leave. Instead, he became amorous.” Dona stayed as close to the truth as possible. “He said I excited him.”

“He offered you money to stay with him?”

“No.”

“Go on.”

“I was frightened so I walked out to my car.”

“Leaving your packed clothes in the cottage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on.”

“But before I could get in my car he caught up with me and became very obnoxious.”

“In what way?”

“He kissed me and pawed me, and attempted to take me by force.”

The deputy who’d spoken before said, “The son-of-a-bitch. An’ I won’t apologize.”

Early asked, “And then?”

“Before he could harm me there were three shots and he coughed and released me. He was in bad shape, but he managed to get back into the cottage to call you.”

“That checks,” another deputy said. “Blair was shot by the car. He bled all the way up the stairs. An’ he was a lyin’ near the phone by the time Tom an’ I got there.”

Yarnell asked, “Who fired these three shots, Miss Santos?”

“I don’t know. It was too dark to see.”

Yarnell was skeptical. “With the gun held less than six inches from Sterling’s back?”

“I was hysterical and crying. I do remember that the flashes seemed so close I felt I could reach out and touch them. Then whoever it was ran away and I heard or thought I heard a splash in the lake.”

“You’re positive of this?”

“I’m positive.”

“There’s no truth in his signed statement? You didn’t shoot Sterling?”

“No.”

“But you were carrying a gun when you came to Blairville. At least you applied, through Jack Ames, for permission to carry one.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Isn’t it a bit unusual for a young girl to carry a gun?”

“I don’t know. I felt I needed it for protection.”

“From whom?”

“Anyone who attempted to molest me.”

“On your trip down here from Chicago and during your stay in Blairville, did anyone but Blair Sterling attempt to molest you?”

“No, sir.”

Sheriff Early nodded to a deputy. “Bring that gun over here, Sam.”