Part 34 (1/2)

”Get back against that car, both of you.”

France walked directly toward him, took the shotgun, wrenched it away from him, murmuring softly, ”Easy, Dad. Easy now.”

The girls had rolled their father over onto his back.

Mrs. Pryor was demanding to know what had happened.

I said to France, ”I've heard a citizen can arrest another citizen. Is that the truth?”

”It's legal. What have you got on him?”

”He murdered Rolph Olan, Mary Olan and Dodd Raymond.”

Skeeter flew at me like a fat brown robin-a robin with claws.

”That's a d.a.m.n lie!” she screamed.

”You're a big liar!”

w.i.l.l.y Pryor hadn't opened his eyes or moved. He opened his mouth and said, ”It isn't a lie. It's the truth.”

He got up slowly and steadily, brushed his women aside and walked toward us.

”Which car do you want me in?”

France opened the door of his grey sedan.

”Right in here, please.”

I followed the grey car. The Pryor car, with the four females and John Fidd, followed me. It was a bright Sunday and seventeen miles to Warren, with the first part of it through lovely farmland. We went by with our load of heartbreak. The cows didn't care. The bees didn't care.

The birds didn't give a d.a.m.n. It was May with summer coming up.

Kruslov let me sit in on it. He acted like a man who had been hit sharply over the head. He kept staring at Pryor and shaking his head, almost imperceptibly. It was Sunday and it took a little time to gather the official cast.

Willis Pryor sat stolidly, dominating the small room with a sort of sad force and dignity, waiting, motionless, grave. He seemed like the chairman of the board awaiting tardy members with iron patience.

The pasty-faced stenographer uncapped a huge prehistoric fountain pen of a peculiarly poisonous shade of orange. I sat where I could see dark bruises on the left side of Willis Pryor's jaw.

”I guess we're ready, Mr. Pryor,” Kruslov said apologetically.

”Shall I tell this all as it happened?”

”Please, sir.”

”My sister Nadine married Rolph Olan. Shortly after marriage he began to make her life a h.e.l.l on earth. She confided in me, we were always close. I spoke to Rolph several times during the years. He ignored me. He seemed amused by me. His infidelities were becoming notorious. It was no life for my sister. On the day of his death I phoned him at his office. I said I had to speak to him. I insisted. I had prayed for guidance. I wanted to give him one last chance. He picked me up on the corner I mentioned. I said we could talk at his house. I hoped to bring Nadine into the conversation. Nadine was resting.

We talked quietly in the study. He told me that Nadine was as tasteless to him as weak tea. He said he would not spend his life chained to the living dead. He said he had decided to divorce her. That was his answer. I excused myself saying I wanted to get a drink of water. I brought the knife back from the kitchen. He had gone into the front hall, to go up the stairs and wake her and tell her his decision. I struck him with the knife. He looked down at it and raised his hand and touched the handle and tried to say something and fell. I went out through the back of the house.

”It never occurred to me that Nadine would be suspected. I hoped the police would suspect some prowler, or some business enemy. After her mind started to go, I told her that I had done it. I told her why. I couldn't reach her, she didn't understand what I was saying. I had done that to her. Once I knew she was incurable there seemed little point in confessing. I had my own wife to think about, an infant daughter, another child on the way. I contemplated suicide. I was mentally sick and physically sick for a long time. Eventually I recovered. Had it not been for Rolph's evil actions, Nadine would not have lost her mind. Once I had decided that, I was able to regain my physical and mental health.”