“Johnny?”
Johnny jerked, cracking his head on the trunk as he swept the blanket back over the little gun and stood at attention. Gene was walking toward him with Chief Bailey in tow. The morning just kept getting better and better.
“Hey, Johnny. Take five kid. The Chief here wants to chat with you a minute. You ain’t in trouble are ya?” Gene winked at Johnny and relieved him of the tire he’d removed from the jalopy. He rolled the wheel expertly across the floor and returned to visit with the mayor about the likely cost of repairs to his shiny automobile.
“What can I do for you, Chief?” Johnny asked, and his mind raced, wondering if he had done anything recently that might encourage a visit from Honeyville’s finest. Nope. He was clean, he decided. Maybe the chief had news about Maggie. Maybe he’d found her. Johnny’s eyes swept over the policeman’s face, and he felt a flash of fear at the grim look in the man’s eyes.
“I just need a minute, Johnny. Let’s get some sunshine while we talk,” Clark Bailey said mildly, and Johnny followed him out of the garage without a backward glance at the Carlton’s, all thoughts of the gun in the jalopy’s trunk completely replaced with thoughts of a girl he barely knew but couldn’t forget. Please, please let her be all right, he prayed silently as he settled himself down on the bench that Gene had placed in front of the shop.
“Is she okay?” Johnny blurted out without preamble, and Clark Bailey’s eyebrows lowered dramatically over his steel grey eyes. He leaned toward Johnny, anger flitting across his face before he schooled his features into a frown.
“Well, I don’t know, kid. She sure as hell didn’t look okay when I saw her about fifteen minutes ago.” Chief Bailey’s voice dripped sarcasm, and his hands curled at his sides as he glowered at Johnny.
“You saw her fifteen minutes ago?” Johnny’s heart galloped wildly, and he was back on his feet immediately. “Where is she? I want to see her.”
“Whaddaya mean where is she? She’s at work. Or didn’t you know she had to face the crowd at Val’s this morning with a black eye and a fat lip?”
“Huh?” Johnny stuttered, his face wrinkled in confusion. “The diner? Are you talking about...my mother?” His voice rose awkwardly, and his brain shifted gears from what he thought to what he now knew.
“Who did you think I was talking about?” Clark Bailey growled in disbelief.
“I thought you were here....to give me news about...about Maggie.” Johnny was tripping over his words, which rarely happened, and he collapsed back onto the bench, running his hands through his hair in both dejection and relief. No news wasn’t good news...but it wasn’t the worst news.
“Maggie? Oh! Oh..Maggie.” The chief was caught completely off guard, and it was his turn to play mental catch up. “No. I don’t have any information on the girl....”
Johnny sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. Then the conversation sunk in. Johnny scowled at the Chief of Police. “So you came here thinking that I what? Slapped my momma around last night? That’s real nice, Chief. Real nice opinion you have of me.” Johnny shook his head in disgust.
“So what did happen?” Chief Bailey ignored Johnny’s impudence; he figured he kinda deserved it.
“Momma drug in around 2 a.m. last night looking like she’d been through a battle with Custer and all the angry Indians at Little Bighorn. When I demanded she tell me who hit her, she just told me it was a misunderstanding and clammed up like she didn’t speak English.”
“You got any ideas?” Clark Bailey asked quietly.
“I got no proof....but I wouldn’t be surprised if the mayor knew something about it.”
Chief Bailey’s face got cold and blank in less than a heartbeat. “You mean to tell me that your momma has been hangin’ out with that sleazeball?”
Johnny didn’t reply; he wasn’t going to go saying ugly things about his mother, whether they were true or not. He just stared at the chief for several long seconds, letting the silence tell Clark Bailey all he needed to know.
“Why?” Clark Bailey’s tone was so incredulous and befuddled that Johnny almost forgot the seriousness of the situation and laughed right out loud. Suddenly, he really liked the Police Chief.
“Ah, hell, Chief. Do you really need me to explain it to you? I’m nineteen and you’re forty. You should be explaining it to me!”
Clark Bailey snorted and lightly cuffed Johnny on the back of the head. “You’re kind of a smart aleck, aren’t you?”
“I am,” Johnny agreed without rancor. “But if you talk to the mayor, tell him if he ever touches my mother again I’m gonna find him.”
“Don’t do that, kid. Let us handle it.” Clark Bailey stood as if to end the conversation, but his face was wrinkled in thought, and he scratched his clean-shaven jaw for a minute, looking off at nothing at all.
“Roger Carlton had the mayor’s car last night. I saw him after he met up with that fence post. So unless the good mayor and your momma were at his place--which I doubt Mrs. Carlton would have tolerated--it doesn’t seem likely that they were together. Your momma doesn’t have wheels, does she?”
“No sir, she doesn’t. When she needs something or to go somewhere, she uses mine.”
“Well, then. I guess your momma has some explaining to do, and the mayor looks like he’s in the clear. I’ll still have a word with him, though. You best be gettin’ back to work.”