“Hi, Jed?” The sheriffs call had gone through. “We got a sure ’nuf murder on our hands here. You’d best call the coroner an’ tell him to get on up here with the meat wagon right away,” he instructed the deputy in his office. “I prob’ly won’t be back for leastwise a few hours. Anythin’ comes up, you can reach me here.”
The sheriff hung up and turned to the deputy staring down at Wilma’s body, “Go find Angus Morton,” he said tersely.
The deputy went out and returned quickly with Morton. “Angus,” the sheriff said, “you got an empty cabin where I can talk to some of these folks private-like?”
“Sure, sheriff.”
“You stay here an’ don’t let nobody in till I’m through,” the sheriff told the deputy. He jerked a thumb toward the bathroom. “Keep her here with you. Mr. Dawes,” the sheriff turned to him, “you an’ Mr. Corrigan come on along with us. All right, Angus, lead the way.”
When they got to the empty cabin, the sheriff asked Mr. Dawes and Don to wait out on the porch while he talked to Angus. Inside, he sat down in an armchair and told Angus to have a seat. “All right, Angus,” he said, “now s’pose you tell me what’s been goin’ on here.”
“Murder, sheriff.”
“I know that, Angus. Don’t be gettin’ wise with me. I wanna know what them girls was doin’ here in the first place.”
“I jus’ rented them the cabin, sheriff. That’s all I know.”
The sheriff stood up and walked over to Angus. He bent over him so that their faces were very close. Angus could feel his tobacco breath hot on his cheek as the sheriff spoke. “I ain‘t playin’ games, Angus. This here’s murder. Murder, an’ I’m gonna be more law than you ever dreamed. So let’s don’t kid each other. Anything goin’ on here, you know ’bout it. That’s your business, Now, you gonna tell me what you know, or do you wanna cool a spell in a cell?”’
“What you wanna know, sheriff?” Angus shrank back from him fearfully.
“What was them two doin’ here? They got a coupla guys they’s shackin’ up with? That it?”
“No, sheriff. That weren’t it.”
“What then?”
“They’s makin’ love to each other.”
“You kiddin’ me, Angus?”
“Nope. Hones’, sheriff. That’s what it were. Them two’s a couple of lesbos.”
“I’ll be dammed!” The sheriff’s face looked a little sick as he began to believe Morton. “You knowed that an’ you let it go on here? What the hell’s the matter with you, Angus. You know we never ’lowed nothin’ like that in Glenville. You know I wouldn’t never go along with no fairies or dykes. I draw the line at that. So’s the town. I mighta blinked off lotsa things, but not no filthy sinnin’ like that. How the hell you let them use your place for that? I’da shut you down in a minute if I’d knowed you ever ’lowed it. But if you’d come to me first thing, I’da jus’ see’d to it that it were stopped. Why di’n’t you come to me?”
“Hell, sheriff,” Angus replied defensively, “I ain’t the only one what knowed ’bout it. That feller Corrigan, he knowed. An’ Beau Barker, too. Mattera fact, Beau had a meetin’ of some folks jus’ the other night to talk ’bout what to do with them perverts.”
“A meetin’? Who was there?”
Angus told him and the sheriff made a list of the names. “How come Beau didn’t see fit to bring me in on this?” the sheriff asked.
Angus shrugged. “Best ask him that, sheriff.”
“Don’t worry. I will. You know, everyone of them people that was there’s a suspect in this murder. Barker give each of ’em a motive. That’s what he done.”
“I reckon that’s right, sheriff. But, hell, it seems right likely it weren’t nobody but that New York gal what done it.”
“Mebbe. But I gotta check out all the others. An’ that means you, too, Angus.”
“Me? Why would I --”
“Same reason as any o’ the others,” the sheriff interrupted. “Now s’pose you tell me where you was all last night, Angus, and don’t leave anythin’ out.”
“I’m clean, sheriff, an’ I can prove it.” Morton grinned. “I was cuttin’ the crap game from ten till closing. I gotta dozen witnesses’ll bear me out.”
“What time them girls get here?”
“Wilma showed round nine-thirty. I don’ know when the other one come.”
“What time you close the game?”
“Four-thirty.”
“Then what did you do?”
“Went down to the diner on the highway-for burgers with some a the boys. You can check it out.”
“Don’t you worry. I will,” the sheriff told him dryly. “How ’bout this feller- D’Angelo?” he asked. “Where was he?”
“I don’t rightly know. You’ll have to ask him direct. I didn’t see him.”
“What’s his connection with the Maiden girl?”
“Now, that there’s a mighty int’resting question, sheriff. They knowed each other in N’Orleans. Ask me, they was maybe shackin’ up there. She come up here to see him a few times. Once I heard ’em havin’ a argument.”
“What about?”
“Couldn’t say. Jus’ know they was shoutin’ for a bit an’ then they quieted down. Don’ say I said it, sheriff, but I s’pect D’Angelo oughta be looked into.”
“Okay. You round him up an’ l’ll talk to him later. You can go now. Send Dawes in on your way out.”
Morton went out and a moment later Preston B. Dawes entered. The sheriff motioned him to a chair. “It looks mighty bad for your little girl, Mr. Dawes,” he told him.
“She didn’t murder that girl.”
“It surely looks like she did. What makes you say it so positive?”
“I know my daughter. It just isn’t in her to kill. I’m telling you that she couldn’t have done it, sheriff. If you want to apprehend the real murderer, you had better start looking elsewhere”
“Oh, I intend to do jus’ that, Mr. Dawes. Believe me. Tramp like Wilma Maiden, lotsa folks mighta had reason to kill her. Lotsa folks. Even maybe you, Mr. Dawes.”
“Me? Why me? What reason would I have for killing her?”
The sheriff ignored the question. “You know what your daughter were doin’ here with the Malden girl?” he asked.
“No,” Dawes lied. “I don’t.”
“You know ’bout the relationship ’tween ’em?”
“I – I -” Dawes broke down. “Yes,” he admitted finally, filled with shame staring at the floor to keep from meeting the sheriff’s eyes, “I know what they were doin.”
“That might be a reason for you to kill the Malden girl right there. Mightn’t it, Mr. Dawes?”
“But I didn’t kill her.”
“No?”
“No! I-I threatened her once, but it was just the sort of thing you say in anger. I didn’t mean it. I tell you I didn’t kill her, and neither did my daughter.”
“When did you make this threat?”
“A few nights ago when I fired her.”
“Fired her? Was she working for you?”
“Yes. She was the maid in our house.”
“The maid—Ben Malden’s daughter, the maid in your house! All the trouble you havin’ with him, Mr. Dawes, that sure seems mighty peculiar.”
“I didn’t know who she was. When I found out, I fired her. That’s when she told me what had been going on with her and Glory. You see, the Henshaws hired her in the first place.”
“The Henshaws, hey? Now that’s mighty int’restin’.”