Cottonwood Whispers by Jennifer Erin Valent Page A

the evidence.”
    “You been a lawman for some years, Charlie. You always had cases where what you seen matched up with what was true? Your own cousin was a murderous Klansman, and you didn’t suspect a thing.”
    My stomach dropped when I heard her reference to Otis Tinker, and I swallowed hard in an attempt to push those thoughts away.
    “All right now, calm down,” Sheriff Clancy told Miss Cleta. “We’re lookin’ into things. If there’s another truth to find, we’ll find it.”
    “But now people’s minds are set on it bein’ Mr. Poe,” I argued. “I’ve seen enough of this town’s prejudice to know that once they make up their minds about somethin’, they ain’t gonna change it anytime soon. They’ll make a villain out of Mr. Poe.”
    “Jessilyn, I know you got a fondness for Elmer, but sometimes that fondness makes people a little blind to someone’s faults.”
    “Mr. Poe couldn’t have done such a thing. I know that sure and simple.”
    “I want to see him,” Miss Cleta demanded. “That poorman’s probably scared out of his wits, and two familiar faces would do him a world of good.”
    The sheriff stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at the both of us. He finally nodded slowly. “All right, Miss Cleta. You two can come on back if you like. Just don’t go slippin’ him no hacksaws or nothin’.”
    Miss Cleta smacked his arm with her pocketbook. “Get on back there with your smart tongue and take me to the boy.”
    It was a sad sight seeing Mr. Poe sitting in that jail cell. He had his arms wrapped around himself, his eyes red from tears. One of his feet was constantly tapping, and he was muttering things I couldn’t understand. But then, Mr. Poe was usually hard to understand.
    “Elmer,” Miss Cleta said quietly. “You all right there, honey?”
    Mr. Poe’s head shot up at the sound of Miss Cleta’s voice, and he jumped up and ran to us, shoving both hands through the bars.
    “There, there, now.” Miss Cleta gripped his hands and shushed him softly. “It’ll be all right, Elmer. The good Lord’s watchin’ out for you.”
    “Ah ain’t done nuthin’ wrong, Miss Cleta,” he said in his heavily accented way. “They’s sayin’ ah hurt a little girl, but ah ain’t done nuthin’ in muh life to hurt a little girl.”
    “I know that, Elmer. I know that well as I know my own name. Don’t you worry none. Truth always comes out. You’ll see.”
    “We’re just wonderin’ how your car got beat up and all, Mr.Poe,” Sheriff Clancy added. “Why don’t you tell Miss Cleta here how your momma’s automobile got so smashed up.”
    Mr. Poe started to get worked up again, and he looked desperately at me and then back at Miss Cleta. “Ah cain’t say what happened to muh momma’s automobile, Miss Cleta. Sure ’nough, ah cain’t. Ah ain’t even been out drivin’ of late.”
    “Now, Mr. Poe,” Sheriff Clancy said, “everybody in Calloway knows you head on over to the antique shop near every day. You sayin’ you ain’t been there lately? ’Cuz Mr. Kearns, he says he saw you in his shop that day the little Colby girl got hurt.”
    “Ah’s there,” Mr. Poe stammered. “Ah ain’t nevuh said ah weren’t there. Ah walked that day.”
    “That’s nearly five miles, Mr. Poe,” the sheriff exclaimed. “You tellin’ me you walked ten miles that day?”
    “Tain’t but three miles the short ways. If ah walk across fields’n things, it’s a shorter distance than takin’ roads.”
    “This boy can walk six miles easier’n most in this town,” Miss Cleta insisted. “He’s got more stamina than you or your deputies, Charlie, I can tell you that.” Miss Cleta shot a glance at Sheriff Clancy’s overlapping belly. “Seems you could use a little more walkin’ yourself.”
    “All right now, Miss Cleta,” the sheriff said after clearing his throat uncomfortably. “My need for exercise ain’t no evidence for court. What we need is proof that Mr. Poe