“Watch your mouth, Morris. What time did you leave the party?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you leave alone?”
“No. Judy was with me.”
The sheriff nodded to one of his men and the deputy left.
“Did you go straight home?”
“No.”
“Where’d you go?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I’d rather you did.”
Engdahl thought a moment then shrugged in a what-the-hell way. “I went to the old Mueller place out on Dorn Road,” he said.
“Why?”
“The place is empty and there’s a big pile of hay in the barn and I had a blanket in my car. See?”
The sheriff took a moment to put two and two together. “You and the Kleinschmidt girl?”
“Me and Judy, yeah.”
“How long did you stay?”
“Long enough.” Engdahl grinned and showed his teeth.
“Then what?”
“I took her home. Then went home myself.”
“What time was that?”
“I don’t know. The sun was about to come up.”
“Anybody see you arrive?”
Engdahl gave a quick shake of his head. “My old man had a snootful last night and was sawing logs on the sofa. Wouldn’t’ve heard a bomb go off.”
The sheriff leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest and for a full minute sat in silence and appraised Morris Engdahl. Over the course of that minute Engdahl went from his slouch to an erect posture and then to a twitching of his shoulders in a nervous way and finally said, “Look I told you everything. I don’t know anything about Ariel Drum. I saw her at the party on the river, that’s all. Hell, I don’t think I even said a word to her. She was sitting on the other side of the fire and just staring into it like maybe she was too good to talk to the rest of us. She’s like that. Doesn’t matter she’s got a harelip.” He stopped blathering and shot my father a guilty look.
The sheriff waited but once Engdahl had embraced silence he held to it.
“All right, Morris. I’d like you to stick around until we find Judy and talk with her.”
“Stick around? I gotta be at the cannery at four for my shift.”
“We’ll do our best to get you there on time.”
“Christ, you better.”
“Say, Lou,” the sheriff said to the deputy who’d been with us on the river. “Put Morris in a cell so he can lie down. He looks like he could use twenty winks.”
“You’re locking me up? I didn’t do anything. You can’t arrest me.”
“I’m not arresting you, Morris. Just offering you our hospitality for a while. Just until we talk to Judy Kleinschmidt.”
“Shit,” Engdahl said.
“Watch your language,” the sheriff snapped. “Impressionable boys here.”
Engdahl looked at me and if looks could kill I’d’ve been dead a dozen times.
We headed home and when we arrived we found a cruiser from the New Bremen police department parked in our gravel drive. My father pulled up next to it on the grass and we went inside where Doyle sat at the kitchen table with my mother.
“Nathan,” she said looking up at him lost and frightened.
Doyle stood and turned to my father and held out his left hand. “Mr. Drum, I just want to show you something. Is this your daughter’s?”
Doyle’s big palm cradled something wrapped in a clean handkerchief. With his right hand he drew back the corners of the handkerchief and revealed a gold necklace with a heart-shaped locket inset with mother-of-pearl.
“Yes,” my father said. “She was wearing it last night. Where’d you get it?”
Doyle’s face was cold as winter concrete. He said, “It was in the possession of Warren Redstone.”
20
Gus went with my father and Doyle to the sheriff’s office to discuss the locket. Jake and I stayed with our mother which was difficult. She communicated her fear through silence and random movements. She sat at the kitchen table and smoked for a minute then stood and paced and ended up in the living room where she picked up the phone as if to make a call but put the receiver back down and crossed her arms and stared through a window while the cigarette smoldered in her hand. From the kitchen I watched the ember crawl toward her fingers as she stood frozen in terrible thought or speculation.
“Mom,” I said when I couldn’t stand it anymore and I was sure she would be burned.
She didn’t look away from the window.
“Mother!” I said. “Your cigarette!”
She didn’t move or acknowledge my words in any way. I rushed across the room and touched her arm and she looked down and suddenly realized what was about to happen and dropped the cigarette and stamped the ember out leaving a black smudge on the honey-colored floorboard.
I glanced back at the kitchen. Jake had been watching and I saw the frightened look on his face. It was clear that the house with Mother in it was a place oppressed by desperate worry and I didn’t know what to do or how to help.
Then I heard the crush of gravel in the driveway. I went to the kitchen and looked out the window. Karl had pulled up in his little Triumph with Emil in the passenger seat. Above them loomed a brooding sky. Karl helped his uncle out of the car and led him to the kitchen door.
“Mr. Brandt’s here!” I called.
“Oh, Emil,” Mother said sweeping into the kitchen and drawing Mr. Brandt into her arms. “Oh, Emil. I’m so glad you came.”
“I couldn’t stand waiting this out alone, Ruth. I had to be here.”
“I know. I know. Come and sit with me.”
She led him into the living room where they sat together on the sofa.
Karl hung back with me and Jake. He asked, “Any word?”
“They found her locket,” I said.
“Who?”
“Officer Doyle. Warren Redstone had it.”
“Who’s Warren Redstone?”
“Danny O’Keefe’s great-uncle,” Jake said.
“How’d he get it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “My dad and Gus and Officer Doyle went to the sheriff’s office with it.”