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a double-barreled shotgun across his lap.
Do you think there ll be trouble? I asked him.
Orin spat a stream of tobacco at an inquisitive palm roach that had crept
out of the woodwork. Could be. It s hard to say. A mob is kinda like a
hound dog chasing two rabbits at once. You never kin tell which way it s
gonna jump. He looked at the sweat beading my chest. But if you be
skeered you shoulda recollected that Paul was well liked in these parts
before you batted in his brains.
I didn t kill Paul.
Orin was non-committal. So you say.
An egg, then a wilted parsnip found their way in between the bars.
A good thing the window is open, Orin Bream said. Otherwise, them
woulda bust the glass.
The elevator gate opened. Sheriff White came down the corridor. There
were deep lines of strain in his face. His brow was beaded with perspira-
tion. But his walk was unhurried, his voice still expressionless.
You d best turn the other prisoners loose, he ordered Bream. That
drunk in five and that sharecropper charged with beating his wife. And
don t forget the boys in the vag tank.
Bream got to his feet. No, sir.
White fanned his face with his time-weathered panama. Not another
damn deputy s shown up. Even Jack s wife called in and said that he was
sick. So it s just the two of us again em until the State boys git here. And
I don t want any so-called accidents.
THE PASSION MURDERS 73
You re the sheriff, Bream said. He moved out of sight down the corri-
dor. A moment later, I could hear cell doors being unlocked. All right, you
fellows, Bream called. The sheriff said for you to git. Use the back stairs
and go out the back door.
Eager feet, thudded down the wooden stairs leading to the rear of the
building. Sheriff White picked up the receiver of the phone on the wall
opposite my cell. I turned back to the window. There was less laughing
now and more shouting. As I watched, I saw Ginty pass out a half dozen
half-pint bottles from the cavernous pockets of his grease-stained overalls.
I said, Ginty s passing out free whiskey.
From the phone, Sheriff White said, Yes. I know. Ginty s a trouble-
maker. I ve debated some on jugging him but I m fearsome it might be the
spark that will set the boys off. He mopped his face with his sleeve, as he
asked the operator to get him Captain Clausen at the State Police barracks.
Besides, as long as they keep drinking and shouting, I misdoubt they ll
blow their corks.
On the far side of the bonfire and across the street, under the marquee of
the Park Theatre, there was an added commotion of some sort. I thought I
saw Sally, briefly, in the crowd. Then the manager of the show came out
and took in the signs announcing:
Tonight In Person
Sally Shannon
I sifted the crowd for Joe Connors and Hass and Cassida, but didn t see
any of them. I d only seen them twice. Once when they had entered the
Commercial House and once when they had emerged an hour later.
Some fool in the crowd around the bonfire fired a pistol at the window
in which I was standing. I flattened myself against the wall as glass tinkled
over my head.
That tears it, White said from the phone.
The shouting around the fire lessened. I looked around the corner of the
window. I saw a man climb up on the marble base of the equestrian statue
of General Stonewall Jackson. He held up his hands for silence. Someone
threw more fuel on the fire and I recognized him as Doctor Handley.
Don t be damn fools, men, Handley shouted. Don t do something
you re going to be sorry for in the morning. Let the law take care of this.
Hi is entitled to a fair trial. We don t know he killed Paul. And while it s a
shame about May, that s the way life is.
An over-ripe tomato struck him full in the face and dripped down onto
his rumpled white suit. A second tomato struck him in the shoulder.
Someone in the crowd called, When we want a doctor, we ll send for one.
74 DAY KEENE
But let s wait till the patient is daid! A roar answered the speaker.
Staggering under its weight, a dozen men crossed the street carrying a
twenty-foot long eight-by-eight barn timber. The roar increased as the
crowd around the fire saw them.
Handley wiped his face with his handkerchief, dabbed at the stain on his
shoulder, shrugged and got down from the pedestal of the statue.
From the window of the cell next to mine Orin Bream said, Well, Phil
made a good try.
White hung up the receiver and unlocked the door of my cell. There are
three carloads of troopers on their way, he told Bream. But us being
stuck way off down here in the ass end of the state, the captain misdoubts
they can get here in much less than half an hour. White looked out the
window. But them boys out there ain t going to wait no half an hour. So
to save from having to shoot some damn fool, I m going to sneak Shannon
out the back way and take him to the Fillmore County jail till things cool
off a bit.
That s a good idea, Bream said. I put on my shirt and reached for my
coat. White continued, You peel off your shirt, Orin, and stand there at the
window where Hi s been standin . So the boys kin see you. You re about a
size with Hi. Give us about five minutes if you kin. Then, if the boys ain t
bust in by then, go on downstairs and unlock the front door.
Bream took off his shirt and undershirt. Whatever you say, Sheriff.
White took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and snapped them on my
wrists. And don t give me no trouble, Shannon. If you hadn t done what
you did, the boys wouldn t feel the way they do. He motioned me out of
the cell. Let s go. Down the back freight elevator. All the way to the boil-
er room.
The second and first floor were unlighted. The aged freight elevator
creaked its way down to the basement. It smelled of musty records and rot
and dry decay. I m glad the judge is daid, White said. There was more
emotion in his voice than I d heard in it before. It would pain the old man
powerful to son of his in a mess like this.
I didn t answer him. What was there to say?
White looked out the barred pane of glass in the boiler room door. There
seemed to be no one guarding the rear of the building. You know my car,
he said. It s right at the top of the stairs. He unlocked the boiler room
door. You go first and get in the back seat. I ll throw a blanket over you.
I started out the door and something in me revolted. Allowing myself to
be transferred to a safe cell wasn t going to solve anything. I would still be
tried for and convicted of murder that I hadn t committed. While the guilty
THE PASSION MURDERS 75
man went free. Besides, I wanted to talk to Sally. I wanted to know why
Joe Connors and Johnny Hass and Sam Cassida had come to Elfers. White
pushed at my back, impatiently, Hop. Instead I spun on my heel and
swung my handcuffed fists in a short arm jab that caught the old man on
the point of the jaw. He d bolstered his gun to unlock the door. I slipped it
out of his holster and eased him to the cement floor as his knees gave way.
I hoped I hadn t hurt him. I had nothing against the old man. I liked him.
I found the key to the handcuffs and unlocked them. I threw the cuffs
and the key into a pile of trash. I stuffed White s gun under my shirt,
between my sweat-slimed belly and my belt. Then, locking the boiler room
door behind me, I crept up the short flight of stairs and ducked into the
thick shrubbery surrounding the old building.
No one tried to stop me. No one saw me leave. All the interest of the men
was concentrated in the thump of the eight-by-eight timber thudding
against the front door. I debated using White s car, but it was sure to be rec-
ognized.
My mouth dry, my body drenched with sweat, I forced myself to leave
the shrubbery bordering the courthouse and walk openly across the grass.
The heavy gun wouldn t stay where I d put it. It kept sliding down and jab-
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