Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

“Little gun, a woman’s gun. She gets him right in the head while he’s passed out in the mud like the pig he was.”
    “Makes sense. I’d be tempted myself if I was in her situation. But it don’t feel right. She just don’t act like a woman with something to hide.”
    Mrs. Day came out onto the porch, and they fell silent. The woman was white. “Mr. Tucker,” she began, “would you kindly come in here and have a look at something for me?”
    Alafair and Shaw glanced at one another, then followed Mrs. Day into the house. She led them into the kitchen where Harley’s remains lay neatly washed, combed, and dressed in his cleanest overalls and least mended shirt. Mrs. Day put her hand on her late husband’s cheek, and with some effort, pushed his head over to the side. “What do you make of this?” she asked.
    Shaw bent down for a close look. He examined the little wound carefully for a moment before he stood and looked down at Mrs. Day. “My wife was just telling me that she found a bullet wound, and that’s what it is, all right. The sheriff will have to know of this, ma’am.”
    Mrs. Day, who for a few moments had looked as though she was going to bloom, now wilted before Alafair’s eyes. “You mean he was murdered,” she managed dully. Suddenly her unexpected gift of freedom had a price that would have to be paid.
    “I’m sure Sheriff Tucker will get to the bottom of this right quick,” Alafair soothed, “and you can get on with your life. Shaw, maybe you’d better get Scott in here.”
    ***
    Shaw left and Alafair and Mrs. Day went into the front room. The stove was out, and it was cold as a cave. One of the two narrow windows had been replaced by a raw-looking board. The glass in the other window was glazed with ice. The furniture in the room consisted of two homemade cane chairs, one bed and two pallets on the floor. Mrs. Day slumped down on the bed, and Alafair clutched her sweater around herself and sat down gingerly in one of the chairs. There was a moment of silence in which Alafair watched her breath mist in the air.
    Scott came striding in purposefully from the kitchen with Shaw on his heels. He had obviously been enlightened, and he was all business as he approached Mrs. Day with his hat in his hand, polite and sympathetic, but firm. Shaw took up a post behind Alafair’s chair.
    “Now, Miz Day,” Scott began, “I want you to tell me everything you can remember about the night your husband disappeared. It don’t matter if it was important or not. You just tell me everything in your own words, and I’ll decide what’s important.”
    It took a few minutes for the poor woman to get up the energy to begin, but no one was inclined to rush her. “It wasn’t no different than a hundred other times,” she said. “He opened a jug late in the morning, and by noon he was blind drunk. I done something that riled him. I don’t remember what. Looked at him funny, I don’t know. He started clouting me. My oldest boy, John Lee, was home and took exception. He’s started doing that in the last couple of years. He pulls his daddy off me and Harley flies into a rage. John Lee leads him a chase out in the yard. It was drizzling a cold rain, and beginning to freeze and they both were slipping and sliding around. There was no way Harley could catch John Lee, drunk as he was. After a spell, Harley staggered off to the barn and John Lee come inside. Harley never came in that night, and the next morning we found the mule and saddle gone, too. He has rode off for days at a time before, so we didn’t think nothing of it.”
    “What day was it this happened?” Scott asked.
    “Wednesday. Had to have been. That’s when it rained and froze. Mr. Lang who owns the grain mill was supposed to come out and talk to John Lee about money Harley owed him, but he never made it. I remember me and John Lee talked about it. John Lee and Mr. Lang had worked out this plan to pay Mr. Lang back over time. John Lee figured something had come up in town and Mr. Lang got hung up. That was after John Lee and Harley got in to it. When I got up Thursday morning, there was a deep snow on the ground.”
    “What time was it that Harley went out to the barn?”
    “I don’t know. Before dinner. Must have been one or so.”
    “And when did you notice the mule was gone?”
    “Next morning early. Milking time.”
    “So you saw the mule was gone when you went out to milk the cow?”
    “My girl Naomi did. Naomi milks