Free Only Make Believe by Elliott Mackle

“Let’s go, Mother. They’re trying to get us confused, get you to say something they can use against Daddy. Let’s go home.”
    “Answer me, Junior.”
    “Daddy wasn’t like that. And you’re insulting my mother.”
    “We were home,” Amelia shouted. “Your sister and I? All night, after you two came back from the Rosary meeting? Until they called us?”
    The boy put his hand over his mouth. “Yeah, I guess.”
    Bud said quietly, “You guess what, son?”
    “I guess Mother was home. I mean, I know she was. Yeah. Sure. But Cissy’s room and my room, sir, they’re way over at the other end of the house. Big porch and kitchen in between.”
    “Chuck!”
    “I was asleep . I mean I know you were home, you and Cissy both. But I can’t swear to it absolutely. Yes’m, I sure do believe you must have been home all night. You just must have been. Yes sir, I’m sure she was.”
    He’s lying and making a mess of it, I thought . He was either down here beating up his father or out drinking beer with his buddies. Or else necking with a girl. He’s not sober yet and he can’t collect his thoughts. He looks just like Mike did the first time we hit rough weather, when he got scared and seasick and upchucked all over the deck.
    Bud had heard enough. Changing course, he asked Amelia if she knew the name of the person her husband was scheduled to see on Monday.
    At first I thought she hadn’t heard him. She didn’t answer for a moment. She was staring at her son and the expression on her face was not anger or fear or even disbelief. She looked surprised. Then she turned to Bud and said, “Find out for yourself, Officer W-R-I-G-H-T. That’s all I have to say now.” She took her son’s arm. “Chuck, we need to talk to that doctor. Didn’t he say there were papers to sign?”
    Bud stepped aside, leaving the path to the door clear. When they were gone, he picked up a note pad and pencil. “I should have split ’em up first thing. My mistake. Questioned the cow and the calf separate. Should have done that as soon as I saw where it was going. Bad mistake on my part. I know better. Just wasn’t thinking. Wasn’t following procedure.”
    “I think you did split them up. Didn’t you see the look she gave him right at the end?”
    “Yeah I did. And I ain’t finished with her.”
    “You think it’s her?”
    He began to write. “The boy was drunk, wasn’t he?”
    “Yeah. And scared and confused. He didn’t strike me as angry enough to have just kicked his pop in the balls, though. But I’m pretty sure he was lying.”
    “Between you and me, let’s say we got two likely suspects already.”
    “Three,” I answered. “We don’t know a thing about the baby sister.”
     
     

A Book by its Cover
     
    Doc Shepherd appeared in the Caloosa’s two-story lobby a few minutes before noon. Mose and Drackett, the coroner’s zebra-uniformed trusties, trailed behind him, nodding and uh-umm-ing, obviously impressed by the painted ceiling beams, open mezzanine, polished marble floors and expensive modern furniture. Prisoner Mose carried a medical valise and camera case. Prisoner Drackett was in charge of evidence bags, sponges, glass vials, corks and fingerprint powder.
    Doc was dressed for field work—capacious black broadcloth suit with rubber-lined pockets, waterproof hunting boots, blood-colored necktie and stained, wrinkled shirt that must once have been white. The tall, heavy coroner had a narrow face, turkey-wattle triple chins and parrot-blue eyes with feathery lashes. His steely handshake was always a surprise.
    Doc honked when I suggested refreshments. “Lu-unch? Do you mean right now, ha ha? An early lunch?” Doc’s distinctive voice was accented by involuntary seesaw laughs. “Meals are always a pleasure at the Caloosa. But I think any sort of refreshment would perhaps be even more pleasant, Mr. Eeew-ing, after the completion of our sad but necessary endeavors upstairs.”
    When I agreed this might be