2

    
    “Morning, Mrs. Griff.”
    “Morning, Sheriff.”
    “Wondered if your husband would be around?”
    “ ’Fraid not. He went over town early.”
    Dodds smiled. “Darned early. It’s hardly seven.”
    “He was needin’ some kind of wrench he didn’t have. Said he could borrow one from Charlie Smythe.”
    Dodds nodded to the barn in back. “He still works on his buggies, huh?”
    “They’re his pride and joy.”
    “Guess they would be,” Dodds said. “He built some good ones when the wagon works was open.” Seeing that he’d made Mrs. Griff melancholy-he was not what you’d call steeped in the social graces, particularly where women were concerned-he bent down to look more closely at the two little girls who stood on either side of their mother. “Now let me see. One of you is Eloise and one of you is Tess. Right?”
    The older girl giggled and blush. “Uh-huh, Sheriff, uh-huh.”
    “You’d be Eloise, wouldn’t you? The oldest one?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “How old are you, sweetie?”
    “I’m six and Tess is four.”
    “Four!” Dodds said, turning to the littlest girl. She had golden braids-her sister had dark hair-and wore a blue calico dress. “Why, I thought you were five for sure.”
    Tess blushed and buried her face in her mother’s apron. Dodds looked up at Mrs. Griff and winked. “Last time I saw your mother, I said that, didn’t I, Mrs. Griff? I said why I thought that Tess was five years old for sure.”
    The girls giggled and flushed some more, thoroughly charmed. Dodds straightened up, his bones cracking as he did so. The older one got, the more noises one’s body made. “Do you suppose you could walk me down to the corner, Mrs. Griff? Maybe have Eloise and Tess stay here?”
    He could see the instant alarm in the woman’s eyes. He hadn’t wanted to put it there but there was no other way.
    “Why don’t you girls go back and finish your breakfast,” Mrs. Griff said. He could hear the tightness in her voice, the fear. Something was wrong and now she knew it. She was a plump woman, but pretty even though her hair had started turning gray. She had always struck Dodds as one of those women who can handle any crisis, much stronger than most men at such moments, himself included. But now, panic besetting her gaze and sweet pink mouth, he saw her vulnerability. He was almost disappointed.
    They set out down the walk.
    “Just tell me straight out,” she said. He could feel her trying to remain calm.
    “I think he’s in some trouble, Mrs. Griff.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    “Old trouble, actually. A bank robbery a few years back.”
    “A bank robbery?” She smiled with a kind of pretty bitterness. “Believe me, Sheriff, you go take a look at the food on our table and then you tell me that we ever saw any money from a bank robbery.”
    “That was one of the problems, at least from the robbers’ point of view. A young girl got killed and the robbers got all het up and took off without any money.”
    “A young girl?”
    “Thirteen. Delivering something to the bank for her father.”
    “My Lord.” She sounded shocked and almost angry. Obviously she was thinking of her own girls.
    They walked a time in silence. Kids were invading the green dusty summer day, streaming clean from the small white respectable houses of Tencourt Street, eager to soil shirts and trousers and dresses and, most especially, faces.
    “Why do you think my husband had anything to do with this?”
    “An ex-Pinkerton man was in town a while back. He’d traced the robbers to here.”
    “And he said Mike was one of them?”
    “That’s what he said.”
    “Who else?”
    “He said Kittredge and Carlyle.”
    At the last name her face turned sour with a frown. “Carlyle, I could understand. But not Mike or Kittredge. They’re good men, Sheriff, and you know it.” She was watching him now, expecting him to agree.
    “That they are, Mike and Dennis,” he said. “Good men. But think back to when the wagon works closed. Think how desperate men were around here.” He didn’t have the courage to look at her as he said this.
    They reached the corner. A small band of kids stood ten feet away pointing at the sheriff, or more specifically at his badge. It always brought a lot of ooohs and aaahs of the sort kids muster for people in uniform.
    Now they faced each other and Dodds said, “The girl’s father came to town yesterday.”
    “My God. Does he think Mike is responsible?”
    “I’m pretty sure that’s what he thinks.”
    “Are you going to tell him otherwise?”
    This was the hard part for Dodds. “Mrs. Griff, I’d like you to talk to Mike and have him turn himself in at my office.”
    “My God. You think he did it, don’t you?”
    “I’m afraid I do.”
    “My God.”
    “If he don’t turn himself in, Mrs. Griff, he’s at the mercy of this fellow Ryan. So far Ryan has done nothing I can arrest him for. That means he’ll have every opportunity to kill the three men.” He hesitated a minute. “You’d rather have Mike alive, wouldn’t you?”
    “He couldn’t have killed a girl. He just couldn’t have.”
    “It was an accident. Even the bank employees agree on that. An accident. So in all likelihood he wouldn’t be facing any murder charge. Least not a first degree one.” His jaw clamped. “You’ve got to see this Ryan fellow to know what I’m talking about, Mrs. Griff. He’s insane. He’s so grieved over his daughter that nothing else matters than killing the men responsible. If Mike don’t turn himself in, Mrs. Griff, Ryan’s gonna kill him for sure.”
    “My God,” she said.
    The kids watching them inched closer. One kid said, “Sheriff, did your badge really cost two hunnerd dollars?”
    The sheriff winked at Mrs. Griff and said to the kid, “Oh, a lot more than that, Frankie. You just can’t see the jewels I got on the other side.”
    “Jewels! Wow! See, I tole ya!” Frankie said to the other kid and then they took off running, tumbling into the morning.
    “You tell Mike to turn himself in, Mrs. Griff,” Dodds said after turning back to the woman. “That’s the safest way for everybody.” He touched her elbow. “Please do it, Mrs. Griff. I don’t want anybody else to die because of all this. The girl was enough.”
    Mrs. Griff was crying now; soft silver tears in her soft gray eyes. “He just couldn’t have killed any girl, Sheriff,” she said. “Not on purpose; not on purpose.” That’s all she could think of, the girl.
    “You tell him,” Dodds said quietly. “Please, Mrs. Griff. All right?”
    He went back to his office.
    
Jack Dwyer #07 - What the Dead Men Say
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