Prom Night in Purgatory(66)

Chief Bailey didn’t know, and he really didn’t want to know, either. Johnny Kinross hadn’t struck him as the kind of guy to hit his mother. He liked the kid. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a word with him. If there were some domestic problems at the Kinross house, it would help everyone involved, including the police, if he could head them off right now.

***

Johnny lifted the hood of the jalopy and tried to hold back the anger that wanted to spill over like the oil that was leaking from the jalopy onto the shop floor. He had come to work that morning just as angry as he’d been when he went to bed. Momma had been up and out the door at the crack of dawn, supposedly to work at the diner, though Johnny had stopped in to make sure she was there before heading to the shop. She had covered up the damage pretty well. But she hadn’t made eye contact with him, even when she handed him two pieces of buttered toast with an egg and a few slices of bacon sandwiched between them.

“You’re gonna be late for work if you don’t hustle,” was all she said. He’d left the diner with no appetite, but he was sure hungry for a fight.

Then not ten minutes after getting to work, Mayor Carlton and that little creep Roger had shown up at Gene’s. Apparently, young Roger had swerved to miss a deer and wrapped the tail end of his daddy’s Lincoln around a fence post. Mayor Carlton was not a happy man. Roger seemed unconcerned by the damage he had caused but had the sense not to say much. He smirked over at Johnny a few times, leering a little at his soiled coveralls. Johnny wished the dipstick in his hand was a sword that he could use to wipe the self-satisfied smile off of Rogers face. He wondered how Mayor Carlton would react to having his son’s face marked up. He sure as hell didn’t like the mayor marking up his mother. Let him see how he liked it.

Johnny finished checking the oil and moved to the back of the jalopy, opening the trunk to remove the spare that the owner had said needed replacing. When Johnny pulled the tire free he uncovered something else. The nose of a gun peeked out from beneath an old blanket that had been partially caught beneath the spare. Johnny glanced around almost guiltily. It was as if his wish for a weapon had materialized into an actual gun. He leaned into the trunk and slid the revolver out, running his hand along the smooth barrel, wondering if it was loaded. It was small and light—weight. It would fit inside Momma’s purse just fine. He could teach her to use it. Then nobody would ever hit her again.

“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.