Read Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp Online

Authors: Joan H. Young

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Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp (11 page)

BOOK: Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp
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None of the window trim was in place
yet, and only the sub-floor was laid, so it was a perfect time to
paint. I didn’t have to worry about splatters very much at all. By
late afternoon I had finished the primer coat, and two coats of
ceiling paint. I washed the brushes and rollers. Paddy was anxious
to go out, and I was hungry, having skipped lunch. It had been a
quiet day, and I appreciated the respite from all the activity of
the weekend. I was in the kitchen, making a sandwich and stretching
my sore neck muscles when Paddy began to bark from the
driveway.

I looked out the window and saw Star
coasting into the yard on a bicycle. She looked like a woman on a
mission, not like a carefree teenager. I opened the door just as
she was stepping onto the porch, and she stamped into the living
room, followed by Paddy.

“Hi there!” I said. “Come in the
kitchen and have a drink. I’m just eating. Would you like
something?”

“Just some water. Can we talk? I’m so
angry at my dad I could... I could... I don’t know what, but he
just doesn’t understand.”

“Did you ride all the way here? It
must be fifteen miles.”

“I just couldn’t stand it any longer!
It was the only way I could get away. Poor Sunny is stuck there,
but she said she’d be OK and that I should come tell
you.”

“What’s happening?” I led the way into
the kitchen, and poured Star a glass of cold water from a pitcher
in the refrigerator, trying not to look alarmed. We sat at the
kitchen table.

“It’s Dad.”

“What’s the matter? Did he hurt
you?”

She took a long drink of
water. “No, no. He’s not like
that
. I know he’s our dad, but he
thinks he runs everything, when he hasn’t even seen us since
Grandma’s funeral.”

“Tell me about it.”

“First of all, he acts like he owns
the place. The trailer is small, you know. He has to sleep on the
couch when he comes. Maybe it just bothers me more, now that I’m
older, but he seems to fill up all the space. The recliner section
of the couch is the only place Grandpa can sit and be comfortable,
but Dad slept late, and then didn’t fold up his blankets. So
Grandpa had to sit on a hard chair till Dad got up, and then
Grandpa had to fold up the blankets himself, just to be able to
have his place to sit.”

DuWayne’s behavior sounded rather
thoughtless to me, but hardly serious enough to have caused Star to
ride her bicycle all the way to my house. I took a bite of sandwich
and Star went on with her tale.

“Then he used up all the hot water
taking a shower, and ordered me to make breakfast for him. I
would’ve fixed his old breakfast, you know. I just didn’t like
being told to do it, like I was his slave or something.”

“I can understand that,” I
said.

“I guess this kind of stuff is nothing
new, but it made me so mad, on top of the other things he
said.”

“Like what?”

Star squirmed in her chair. “He wasn’t
very nice.”

“In what way?” I was hoping that
offering a listening ear was going to be sufficient help, because I
had no interest in interjecting myself into a family argument. From
what Len had told me, DuWayne didn’t even have parental rights,
legally.

“It’s like he doesn’t care about Mom.
He said that we should have known she must be dead. But, why
wouldn’t we want to dream that she might come back? I remember what
it was like when we were together.” She sighed and finally slowed
down the pace of her rant. “A little bit anyway.”

“Were things good for you, back
then?”

“I guess we must have been really
poor, but I didn’t know it. I remember Dad being big and warm. He
would hold us on his knees and give us horsey rides. Sunny would
giggle and giggle, but I had to hold on tight because he bounced me
harder since I was older. We would go to town for baby-size soft
ice cream cones, and watch the sun set from our porch.”

“Were you hoping things could be like
that again?”

“Not really, oh, maybe a little bit...
I’ve been thinking a lot this year, I guess. Mom was just a year
older than I am when she had me. I pretty much take care of things
for us since Grandma died, but I can’t imagine doing all that and
having a baby, too.”

“Your mom must have worked very
hard.”

Star changed the direction of her
story. “Sunny and I walked down to our old trailer earlier this
year. She didn’t remember it at all.”

“But you did?”

“Some things. I remember it being
bigger. We used to chase each other up and down the hall. That
Sunny could run even when she was a toddler! Now, when she runs
inside our trailer I tell her to stop. The whole place shakes.
Living in a trailer is really crappy.”

“You keep yours very clean and
nice.”

“Thanks. I try, but we have some money
from when Grandpa got hurt. I don’t think my mom had anything at
all. That’s why she was trying to get that job. At least now I know
that she didn’t walk away and leave us.”

“Did you think that,
before?”

“I didn’t want to think so, but
sometimes I would hear people talking, until they thought I might
hear them, and then they clammed up. It was hard, not knowing. But
now, I know she couldn’t come back and that means she really loved
us. Right up until the end.” Tears began to run down her
cheeks.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up,
but we don’t know for certain yet that it is your mom.”

“Yes we do. The Sheriff called a while
ago and said the dental records proved it. Grandpa is planning a
memorial service for Wednesday.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling
inadequate.

“I have to be strong for Sunny and
Grandpa, but would it sound like a kid to ask for a
hug?”

“Of course not!” We stood up and I
held Star close while she cried silently.

“Grandpa’s really sad, and he’s
letting Dad boss him around.”

“You’ve lost your mother, but he’s
lost a daughter, too. I think he’ll be fine, but it will take some
time. Your grandfather is a good man.”

We heard a diesel truck coming into
the driveway.

“That’s Dad,” said Star, pulling away
from me and running to the window. “How did he know I was here?
Sunny must’ve told him.”

This was going to be awkward. It
wasn’t exactly the way I had hoped to meet DuWayne Jefferson, but
that couldn’t be helped now. He walked purposefully toward the
porch and seemed prepared to pound on the door, but I opened it
before he had a chance. I wanted to take the initiative.

“Hi Dad,” Star said.

“Hello, Mr. Jefferson,” I said at the
same time.

The man never looked at me, but glared
at Star. “What are you doing here?”

“I came over to talk to Miss Ana,” she
answered. Her voice was firm, but not as confident as I knew it
could be.

“Get in the truck,” DuWayne ordered.
“And put your bike in the back, first.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stepped back, and Star pushed past
DuWayne and walked meekly toward her bicycle.

DuWayne turned to me. He was, indeed,
a big man, probably six feet tall. He was solid and muscular with a
shaved head, and he was wearing a tight black t-shirt and black
pants. I’m not easily intimidated, but I certainly wouldn’t ever
want to cross this man. Nevertheless, I didn’t appreciate his
brusque manner with a young girl who had just figured out that
she’d lost her mother and somehow grown up without a childhood,
especially when that girl was his daughter and should have been
able to count on some sympathy from him.

“I don’t like you messing with my
family,” he said in a cold voice. “Those girls have a hard enough
time as it is without someone making them think they’re better than
they are.”

“I’m not sure what you mean—we’ve made
cookies and are sewing some school clothes. Those aren’t exactly
extravagant.”

“And I’ve heard about you solving
mysteries. I’ve been here one day, and already people tell me you
poke your nose into other people’s problems.”

I was shocked. “Look, I have nothing
to do with this. Angelica was buried along the river, and my
driveway provides good access. I enjoy spending time with the
girls, but I’m certainly not going to try to solve a seven-year-old
murder.”

“Good. And while I’m here, the girls
won’t need you. Got it?”

I looked up at him and took a deep
breath. “I understand you are upset that Star came over here
without permission. I’m perfectly willing to keep in the
background, but young girls need a woman around, sometimes. Please
don’t punish Star. Naturally, she’s upset by everything that’s
happened and needed to talk about her mother.”

“We’ll see. And you keep that mutt
away from us, too.” He pivoted on his heel and marched back to the
big black truck. As he did a K-turn and spun out of the yard it
looked as if he was yelling at Star, and she was hugging the
passenger door, trying to move as far from her father as she
could.

Paddy had been crouched at my feet,
growling softly in his throat, apparently trying to understand the
angry human voices he was unaccustomed to hearing. I’d almost
forgotten him. Now he stood up and nuzzled my hand. Suddenly my
knees were weak, and I collapsed into an easy chair. The dog put
his head in my lap.

“Now what, Paddy?” I asked, as I
stroked his silky ears.

 

Chapter 18

 

There wasn’t much I could
do about any of it. I hoped I’d be welcome at the memorial service
on Wednesday; I couldn’t imagine that Len would uphold DuWayne’s
wish that I stay away from the girls. Meanwhile, the next day was
Tuesday, my regular day to spend with Cora. I said a little prayer
that DuWayne wouldn’t upset Star and Sunny too much, and went to
bed early with a copy of
Bleak
House
. I thought a few chapters about the
machinations of a broken legal system would make the Leonards’
situation look much brighter. The sun was not even all the way down
when I fell asleep, a victim of hard work, high emotions and
Dickens.

When Paddy and I arrived at Cora’s the
next day, I thought she looked like the proverbial cat that had
swallowed the canary. And I didn’t have to wait long to find out
why. Paddy settled down in the office, and she led me to one of the
long work tables in the museum where there was an array of
photographs and a couple of newspapers.

“Look what I dug out of the files for
your new case!” Cora’s enthusiasm was bubbling over.

“My new case? No way. I am not getting
mixed up in this murder mystery. I just want to help Star and
Sunny, not solve old crimes.”

“If you say so, but look at these
things anyway. They can give you more understanding of the Leonard
family. I’ve laid them out chronologically.” Cora was definitely
grinning.

I leaned over the left end of the
table and began to study the photos.

“Those are shots of Hammer Bridge Town
when it was new and shiny,” Cora explained. “The construction
company paid people to move there. They also convinced Howard
Donnelly to build that gas station and convenience store. Probably
gave him a subsidy.”

“What year was that?”

“1983.”

“No wonder the trailers are in such
bad shape now. Was Len on one of the construction
crews?”

“Look at this picture.”
Cora pointed to a group photo in the next row. About twenty men
were posed in front of a large bulldozer. Len was obviously the one
seated on the machine. He was young and burly, but his long face
was easily recognizable. Also in that row, Cora had placed a copy
of the
Cherry Hill Herald
that carried the story of the opening of the new
bridge. I read that the old bridge had become unsafe and Sheep
Ranch Road had to be closed until construction was complete. Since
it was a main route, a lot of people were inconvenienced, having to
drive five miles south to cross the bridge on US 10.

I went back to the first row of
pictures. There was one of the old bridge, a flimsy-looking thing
with rusted, spidery railings. It looked like it should have been
replaced long before 1983. There were several of various stages of
construction, ending with a shot of the new bridge taken from a low
angle, showing the beams in dramatic perspective. All of these
photos were black and white, and looked professionally taken, but
the next set consisted of colored snapshots of small groups seated
at picnic tables, probably from someone’s family album.

“Those are of the picnic given for the
construction workers and their families after the bridge was done.
It was held over at Turtle Lake. Can you find the
Leonards?”

I squinted at the square photos, with
their colors fading to muddy purplish hues. I finally found a
grouping at a picnic table with a man, woman, and a girl who looked
about four years old. They were seated with another couple who
appeared to be a little younger, with a boy about the same age as
the girl.

BOOK: Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp
10.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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