dishtowel. She had gleaming chestnut-brown hair falling below her bottom, a pleasingly plump little body, a pretty face with dimpled cheeks, and wore a gray dress and house slippers.
‘Sarie,’ Whitman said, ‘this is the sheriff. He’s got some questions ’bout Mary Hudson. You need to answer him right, you hear?’
‘Yes, Thomas,’ she said.
‘Where’s Jane Marie?’ he asked.
‘Right here, Daddy,’ said a voice coming from the room we were in. I swung around to see a woman sitting in a chair by the fireplace. I hadn’t seen her on coming in; by their responses, neither had Thomas Whitman or my wife. She stood up and walked toward us. She was seriously tall, tall as me anyway, ’bout five foot ten or so, skinny as a rail, and ugly as a catfish. She wore the same kinda dress as Sarie, but laced up boots covering feet bigger than mine.
‘You heard?’ Whitman asked.
‘Yes, Daddy,’ Jane Marie answered.
Looking at me, Whitman said, ‘Then I’ll leave you to it, Sheriff.’ With that he walked back out the front door, heading, presumably, back to his tractor.
‘Please, Sheriff, ma’am,’ Sarie said, looking at Jean with a sweet smile, ‘have a seat. Jane Marie, could you go get us all some lemonade?’
‘You’re playing hostess, Sarie, why don’t you do that your own self?’ Jane Marie said, sitting down on the couch.
‘Because I asked you to do it,’ Sarie said, still standing.
‘I’m already sittin’ down,’ Jane Marie said.
‘We’re fine,’ I interjected. ‘No need for refreshments. Ma’am,’ I said, talking directly to Sarie, ‘please have a seat. We just have a few questions.’ Once Sarie had finally sat down, I added, ‘This is Dr McDonnell. She’s a consultant with the sheriff’s department.’
‘Nice to meet you both,’ Sarie said, smiling and nodding at both of us. Jane Marie said nothing.
‘We’re here about the murder of Sister Mary Hudson,’ I said. ‘Any information y’all can give me concerning her or her family, the whole bunch of ’em, I’d really appreciate.’
Sarie and Jane Marie looked at each other then quickly looked away. Finally, Sarie said, ‘We hardly knew the Hudson family. They’re fairly new to the community.’
‘That’s right,’ Jane Marie said, her words almost stumbling over the last of Sarie’s statement. Made it all sound a little fishy.
‘They’ve been here two years, I understand,’ I said.
Again, the women exchanged looks. ‘That’s true,’ Jane Marie said. ‘But we don’t have a lot in common.’
‘How so?’ I pushed.
Sarie sighed and said, ‘Mama Marie, Thomas’s first wife, was barren after Jane Marie, and Thomas didn’t marry me until seven years ago. I have two little girls.’ She said all that and stopped talking.
Jane Marie added, ‘And they’re both retards—’
‘They are not!’ Sarie said, starring daggers at her . . . um, stepdaughter? Who knows.
‘Well, they ain’t normal!’ Jane Marie shot back. ‘That’s why Daddy won’t let her take ’em to church!’
‘That’s not it at all, Jane Marie, and you better watch your mouth—’
‘Or what?’ Jane Marie shot back. A smile played at her lips. ‘I think I already proved who Daddy stands by, and it ain’t you and your retards!’
Sarie stood up and punched Jane Marie in the face with her fist. I was so shocked I couldn’t move. Jean was able to pull Sarie away, but Jane Marie came for her and I had to hold her back. I gotta say, these were some interesting families, but really not all that different than the rest of the county, far as I could see.
Jean Mcdonnell – Thursday
Interesting developments. I was becoming more and more intrigued with the entire plural family dichotomy. Wives who hate each other, wife and older daughter of another wife who hate each other, husbands who either ignored the entire thing or thrived on it. If what I’d seen of the Hudson household were true, then they were the exception, not
‘Sarie,’ Whitman said, ‘this is the sheriff. He’s got some questions ’bout Mary Hudson. You need to answer him right, you hear?’
‘Yes, Thomas,’ she said.
‘Where’s Jane Marie?’ he asked.
‘Right here, Daddy,’ said a voice coming from the room we were in. I swung around to see a woman sitting in a chair by the fireplace. I hadn’t seen her on coming in; by their responses, neither had Thomas Whitman or my wife. She stood up and walked toward us. She was seriously tall, tall as me anyway, ’bout five foot ten or so, skinny as a rail, and ugly as a catfish. She wore the same kinda dress as Sarie, but laced up boots covering feet bigger than mine.
‘You heard?’ Whitman asked.
‘Yes, Daddy,’ Jane Marie answered.
Looking at me, Whitman said, ‘Then I’ll leave you to it, Sheriff.’ With that he walked back out the front door, heading, presumably, back to his tractor.
‘Please, Sheriff, ma’am,’ Sarie said, looking at Jean with a sweet smile, ‘have a seat. Jane Marie, could you go get us all some lemonade?’
‘You’re playing hostess, Sarie, why don’t you do that your own self?’ Jane Marie said, sitting down on the couch.
‘Because I asked you to do it,’ Sarie said, still standing.
‘I’m already sittin’ down,’ Jane Marie said.
‘We’re fine,’ I interjected. ‘No need for refreshments. Ma’am,’ I said, talking directly to Sarie, ‘please have a seat. We just have a few questions.’ Once Sarie had finally sat down, I added, ‘This is Dr McDonnell. She’s a consultant with the sheriff’s department.’
‘Nice to meet you both,’ Sarie said, smiling and nodding at both of us. Jane Marie said nothing.
‘We’re here about the murder of Sister Mary Hudson,’ I said. ‘Any information y’all can give me concerning her or her family, the whole bunch of ’em, I’d really appreciate.’
Sarie and Jane Marie looked at each other then quickly looked away. Finally, Sarie said, ‘We hardly knew the Hudson family. They’re fairly new to the community.’
‘That’s right,’ Jane Marie said, her words almost stumbling over the last of Sarie’s statement. Made it all sound a little fishy.
‘They’ve been here two years, I understand,’ I said.
Again, the women exchanged looks. ‘That’s true,’ Jane Marie said. ‘But we don’t have a lot in common.’
‘How so?’ I pushed.
Sarie sighed and said, ‘Mama Marie, Thomas’s first wife, was barren after Jane Marie, and Thomas didn’t marry me until seven years ago. I have two little girls.’ She said all that and stopped talking.
Jane Marie added, ‘And they’re both retards—’
‘They are not!’ Sarie said, starring daggers at her . . . um, stepdaughter? Who knows.
‘Well, they ain’t normal!’ Jane Marie shot back. ‘That’s why Daddy won’t let her take ’em to church!’
‘That’s not it at all, Jane Marie, and you better watch your mouth—’
‘Or what?’ Jane Marie shot back. A smile played at her lips. ‘I think I already proved who Daddy stands by, and it ain’t you and your retards!’
Sarie stood up and punched Jane Marie in the face with her fist. I was so shocked I couldn’t move. Jean was able to pull Sarie away, but Jane Marie came for her and I had to hold her back. I gotta say, these were some interesting families, but really not all that different than the rest of the county, far as I could see.
Jean Mcdonnell – Thursday
Interesting developments. I was becoming more and more intrigued with the entire plural family dichotomy. Wives who hate each other, wife and older daughter of another wife who hate each other, husbands who either ignored the entire thing or thrived on it. If what I’d seen of the Hudson household were true, then they were the exception, not
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