Джон Коннолли - The Dirty South

‘Do you have anything to hide?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Everyone has something to hide. We are all sinners, and sin requires concealment.’

‘My sins aren’t the kind that concern the police,’ said Rhinehart. ‘The IRS, maybe, but not the police.’

He went to get more coffee. He was feeling anxious. Pettle was still circling, but to what end? And that wasn’t all: there was something the preacher had said earlier, something that bothered Rhinehart as soon as he heard it, but which had since slipped from his memory. He wanted to retrieve it, though. It was important.

Rhinehart came back with the pot and refilled both cups, even though Pettle had drunk only a mouthful. He didn’t bother returning the pot to the hot plate, but sat it on a coaster instead.

‘What are you trying to say, Reverend? I’m getting tired of listening to you beating about the bush.’

Pettle removed his spectacles, wiped them with a cloth that he took from his pocket, and restored them to the bridge of his nose. When he regarded Rhinehart again, it was with a new clarity that had nothing to do with the cleaning of the lenses.

‘I was at Sallie’s on Thursday,’ he said. ‘I was sitting at the kitchen table when Donna Lee came home from school. Donna Lee was used to me calling around occasionally, and I’d like to believe she didn’t think ill of it. She was upset, but wouldn’t tell her mother what happened. They’d been fighting a lot lately. I suspect it was mostly Donna Lee’s teenage hormones, although Sallie also had a short fuse. If someone tried to pour oil on troubled waters, Sallie would set fire to it.’

There it was again. Rhinehart had it now, but said nothing.

‘So I went in and talked to Donna Lee. I always had a way with her. I never judged her, never spoke harshly to her, always encouraged her in her studies and her music. I could have been a good father to her.’

‘So you said before.’

‘Because it’s important. Donna Lee was vulnerable because of her background, but also on account of how she looked. She was beautiful, inside and out. She needed to be cared for, and her mother couldn’t do it, not the way she should have. She tried, but her vices undid her, and caused her attention to wander. There were men who might have tried to take advantage of Donna Lee under those circumstances. Men like you, Denny.’

‘Get out of here,’ said Rhinehart softly.

Pettle didn’t move. ‘She told me what you did,’ he said. ‘How you offered her a ride home, how you laid hold of her breast, how you pulled at her hair as she ran, pulled it so hard she thought her scalp would come away in your hand. She didn’t want to go to the police, because she said it would just be her word against yours and she didn’t want to cause trouble. She didn’t want me to tell her mother, either, because she knew you and Sallie were tight, even though Sallie had warned her to be wary around you.’

‘That’s all lies.’

‘I don’t think so. Donna Lee didn’t tell lies. She’d prefer to say nothing at all than offer an untruth.’

‘She was no angel,’ said Rhinehart. ‘She was whoring around. Her momma said so, but wouldn’t tell me who the guy was. Said she had to be careful, but I had my suspicions.’

‘I don’t want to hear you spout such poison about a dead child.’

‘You ought to listen. Maybe that man was the one who killed her.’

‘Or maybe you killed her, Denny, because she didn’t like your hands on her.’

‘I didn’t kill her.’

‘That should be for the police to decide.’

‘You go spreading slander and I’ll ruin you,’ said Rhinehart. ‘Once the whole town finds out about you and Sallie, you’ll be finished here. Your bitch wife won’t have any reason to stay with you, and you’ll be a congregation of one. And don’t think the finger of suspicion won’t point at you when it comes to Donna Lee. You were fucking her mother, and they’ll wonder if you didn’t have an eye for the daughter as well.’

‘You’re a vile man,’ said Pettle.

‘That may be true, but I’m no creeping Jesus, not like you. It might even be that you’re worse than a charlatan, and you got more than fucking on your conscience.’

‘You’re insane.’

‘“Had,” Reverend. “Had.”’

‘What?’ Pettle looked confused by this sudden turn.

‘When you were speaking about Sallie just now, you said she had a short fuse, and she was beset by a weakness for liquor. Not has: had , like you know she’s already dead. But last I heard, Sallie was missing, and the police were still hoping to trace her. Why would you do that, Reverend? Why would you speak about Sallie as though she’s in the ground? Those are hard questions, and I wouldn’t like to be the one required to answer them. So you go talk to the police, and you tell them what you think I might have done. And when they ask me about it, I’ll share with them what Sallie told me, and what you said here today, and we’ll see which one of us still has a future in Cargill by the end of it. Now take your stink of hypocrisy from my bar.’

Pettle didn’t reply. He turned his face from Rhinehart and got unsteadily to his feet, using the chair for support until he was confident in his ability to remain upright unaided. He walked to the back door, unbolted it, and closed it again behind him as he stepped into the parking lot, all without acknowledging his tormentor.

Rhinehart remained where he was. His heart was beating rapidly and his palms were sweating. He felt as though he were about to have a seizure. It would be bad for him if Pettle went to the police. Word would get around that he was alleged to have sexually assaulted Donna Lee Kernigan in the days before her death. Even if it was only hearsay, and could never progress further because the girl could offer no testimony, it might harm his business, although perhaps only for a while. Even if Pettle were believed, the regulars would accept it if Rhinehart claimed the allegation contained more exaggeration than truth, and it had all been a misunderstanding between him and Donna Lee. They’d believe him because they wanted to: not believing him might require them to drink elsewhere, and the options in town were limited. In addition, Rhinehart was certain that he could account for his movements during the time Donna Lee had been missing, because he’d spent most of it at the bar. He went home only to rest, and then for just a few hours, because he’d never been a good sleeper. In the end, the police wanted to find the killer of those girls, and any other crimes, actual or alleged, would pale into insignificance beside the fact of the murders. He’d get through this, whatever happened.

He brought the coffeepot back to the hot plate. He’d heat it up again later. No sense in letting even such modest fare go to waste. He went to his office and stared at the piles of invoices and receipts. Earlier he’d been dreading the paperwork, but now it would serve as a distraction. He sat at his desk and put on his glasses.

A noise came from the doorway. He looked up.

And Reverend Nathan Pettle started shooting.

69

Pruitt Dix’s last known address was an apartment just south of 630 in downtown Little Rock. Neither Knight nor Griffin had any great desire to visit the city at the best of times, even before the Bloods and Crips started using it as a shooting gallery, but someone had to go up there to question Dix, and certainly not alone. Griffin didn’t want both Knight and himself to be out of the county simultaneously at such an early stage of the investigation. On the other hand, Dix had a bad reputation, one that his address did nothing to counter, since the only people who lived in that district were either too poor to be able to live anywhere else or too criminal to care.