Dovetail: A Novel(65)

Doris paused at the table, long enough for Pearl and Howard to give her their orders, and then she was gone again. Joe brought up the break-in at Kathleen’s house the night before, telling them that nothing was taken.

“I bet it was teenagers,” Howard said.

Pearl nodded in agreement. “Looking for money for drugs. That’s what kids these days are after.”

Kathleen changed the subject. “Mr. Donohue, Mrs. Arneson, as long as both of you are here, can I ask you some questions about the history of Pullman? Specifically, the movie theater?”

“The Victory, right here in town?” Howard asked.

“That’s the one. Do you remember if they once showed silent films?”

His head bobbed up and down. “That’s all they showed at the start. Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks. We saw ’em all. I went nearly every week, even if the show hadn’t changed from the week before. This was before television. Seeing those picture shows moving on the screen was like magic.”

“And did the Victory have someone playing the piano during the movie?”

“Of course. All different ones, people from town,” Howard said. He turned to Pearl. “Remember how on Saturday nights when Alice played, all of you Bennett girls would get in for free?” He spoke to Joe. “You should have seen all those sisters sitting in a row in the back, one right next to the other. Pearl the prettiest of them all.”

“Oh, Howard,” Pearl said, looking pleased. “They don’t want to hear about that. It was a long time ago.”

“So your sister Alice used to play the piano during the movies?” Joe asked.

“Just on Saturdays,” Howard said. “Women didn’t usually work outside the home back then, but her father allowed Alice to do it because he was friends with Floyd, the owner of the theater. Right, Pearl?”

Pearl nodded.

“Oh, Alice could play piano like nobody else. I can still see her on that piano bench, her back straight, arms out, graceful as can be, her fingers flying back and forth. She was really something.” His eyes lit up at the memory.

Kathleen spoke softly. “What happened to Alice? My aunt said there was some kind of accident, and she died young?”

Pearl and Howard exchanged an uneasy glance before Howard said, “It was tragic, and it’s hard to speak of it even now, but we lost Alice when she was only nineteen.”

“What happened?” Joe asked.

“A freak accident. A gun went off, and she was shot. Just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“How awful,” Kathleen said. “I’m so sorry.”

Howard continued. “It happened the night of the Barn Dance. I saw her at the dance, laughing and dancing, and then later heard she was gone. Her funeral was the saddest thing I ever saw in this town. She was so young.”

“The Barn Dance?” Kathleen said. “Like the one they’re having next week? Is it the same thing?”

Howard nodded. “It’s a Pullman tradition, held on the same weekend every year. I haven’t gone since Alice died, so I don’t know if it’s like it used to be, but it’s held in the same barn. They charge admission. There’s a band, and they serve refreshments.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Pearl said abruptly. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She reached for her walker, fumbled it open, and made her way down the aisle.

Kathleen leaned across the table. “I’m sorry to have brought it up.”

Howard said, “You didn’t know. How could you have? She’s sensitive about the subject. She and Alice were only a year apart. They weren’t two peas in a pod, that’s for sure, but they were very close. They’d already lost their mother a few years before, and then when Alice died, it just crushed the whole family.” He looked around to make sure he couldn’t be heard and then spoke conspiratorially. “Pearl was there when it happened. She’s never gotten over it.”

Kathleen said, “I won’t mention it again, then. I do have another question for you, though, and it’s about the piano playing at the movies.”

“Yes?”

From across the restaurant, there came a burst of laughter from a group of young women sitting in a booth by the front door. Kathleen had noticed them when they’d walked in and recognized them as tellers from the local bank. She said, “When Alice was playing the piano, was there ever a disruption that made her stop playing?”

“A disruption?” he asked. “There was a power outage once during a storm. The whole place went dark, and everyone panicked. Almost caused a stampede.”

“No, I’m talking about something different,” Kathleen said. “A disruption like someone causing a scene, or a man sitting next to Alice when she was playing, and someone else, another guy, an angry man, coming along and knocking him off the bench?”

Howard’s face scrunched up, and he looked past her as if trying to recall. “Something like that did happen, now that you mention it. It didn’t stop the movie for very long, though. The owner made them take their fight outside, and the whole thing was over lickety-split.” He gave her an intense look. “I haven’t thought of that in years. Did Edna tell you that story?”

Before Kathleen could answer, Joe jumped in to ask, “What was the name of the man sitting on the piano bench next to Alice, the one who got knocked to the floor?” He had both hands flat on the table, as if trying to keep himself grounded.