Authors: Tricia Dower
Stony River (44 page)
That was when Mom had quit her job and set about making Linda's meals and dishing out stingy portions. She had Daddy padlock the pantry and food cabinets. She raided Linda's room and
confiscated every Oreo, Twinkie and Hershey bar. Sent her to school with a brown-bag lunch and no money. She seemed to have boundless energy for the Linda Project. Pain pinched her face from time to time, but she appeared happy. She'd found her calling.
For the first few months of the Project, Linda railed against her mother, hating herâand Daddy, too, for not defending her. She cried at night from hunger. Arlene didn't want to be seen with her anymore, as if being fat was contagious, and the few girls who were still friendly said her mother was right to make her lose weight and her father to cut off her allowance.
When the head of volunteers at the Home for Delinquent Boys told her she wasn't setting a healthy example for the little criminals, the fight left her and she stopped resisting her mother. She was down to two hundred and thirty-six pounds from a high of two sixty. “Slow going,” Mom said, but Linda was sad to see herself shrink even a little.
Back with a pillow and two blankets, Mom knelt on the floor and grunted as she rolled Linda to one side to get a blanket under her.
“You don't have to do that. I'm feeling better. I'll get up now.”
“Only if you're sure. You can rest down here on your father's bed for a while.”
“How long are you two going to have separate rooms?”
Mom puffed out a sigh. “That's not something to talk about right now.”
“Why not? If we can talk about my fat, why can't we talk about your marriage?”
“Because it's between your father and me. We'll work it out.” “Then maybe you should leave me alone to work out my weight by myself.”
“That's different. I can't stand by and let my daughter eat herself to death.”
“So you're starving me instead? No wonder I almost fainted.”
“I refuse to argue with you today. I'm not feeling exactly tip-top
myself. I'll help you into your father's room, then go up and lie down for a while.”
Linda pushed herself up. “I'm fine. I can go to school.”
After Mom had gone to her room, Linda sat at the table and stared at the newspaper. She remembered something about the car that might be importantâa missing door handle. She shuffled to the wall phone, dialed the number in the paper and made an appointment to see a detective at the Stony River police station after school.
She finished her breakfast and a toast heel Betty had left on her plate.
ROESCH | Detective Arthur Roesch of the Woodbridge Police Department on Tuesday, October 20, 1959, 9:12 |
ROESCH | Sorry I can't offer you a more comfortable chair. You okay on that bench? |
JUKES | Yes, sir. |
ROESCH | Sleep all right last night? |
JUKES | Not really. |
ROESCH | Well it's a holding cell, isn't it? Nothing special. They give you some breakfast down there? |
JUKES | Yes, sir. |
ROESCH | Glad to hear it. Mind if I call you Eldon? |
JUKES | Most people call me Buddy. |
ROESCH | Ah, Buddy then. My friends call me Artie. That's what I'd like you to call me. Yeah? |
JUKES | Yes, sir. (Laugh) I mean, Artie. |
ROESCH | It's stuffy in here. I hate rooms with no windows. Gotta roll up my sleeves. Feel free to remove that nice-looking jacket if you get warm. Real leather? |
JUKES | Yes, Artie. |
ROESCH | Cigarette? |
JUKES | I don't smoke. |
ROESCH | Oh, good for you. Now, you were arrested yesterday for attempted kidnapping on the evening of October 13th. Is that right? |
JUKES | So they say. |
ROESCH | Yeah. So say two young ladies, Susan Jeffers and Nancy Pawling. You were arrested at your workplace. At the A&P on Main Street, right? |
(5-second pause)
| Â | Was that a nod? Yes? Okay. How were you going to manage two girls, Buddy? Or did you plan to drop one off at her house and take the other somewhere private? |
JUKES | I don't know what you're getting at. I offered them a ride, that's all. Just trying to be nice. I like to help people. They didn't accept. Nothing happened to them. Why are you calling it attempted kidnapping? |
ROESCH | Yeah, I can understand your confusion. I guess I should tell you we're also investigating a murder and a missing girl. |
JUKES | What's that got to do with me? |
ROESCH | Well, that's what we're trying to find out, yeah? Let me show you some pictures. |
JUKES | Nobody said anything about murder. |
ROESCH | No, you haven't been charged with murder. We'd just |
(10-second pause)
JUKES | I'm not sure. They look familiar. The girls I offered the ride to? |
ROESCH | Very good. Yes, we took this Polaroid at the station yesterday after they identified you in the lineup. |
JUKES | You didn't need a lineup. I would've told you it was me. I don't understand. They turned down the ride. They didn't get hurt. |
ROESCH | Yeah, that was lucky. Here's the thing. When one of the girls, Nancy Pawling, gets home and tells her mother a man asked her and her friend to get in his carânot once, but three times, following them down the streetâ Nancy's mother asks her to describe that man and Nancy's description rings a bell with Mrs. Pawling. She saves newspapers. Takes them someplace and gets ten cents a pound for them. So she goes down to her basement and looks through her paper stack. Finds one from five months ago with a police artist's sketch of a man three teenaged boys saw behind the wheel of a car with a now-missing girl in it. She asks Nancy, Is this the man who offered you a ride? and Nancy says yes. Let me show you another photo. We didn't take this one. You recognize the girl? |
(5-second pause)
JUKES | No. That the missing girl? |
ROESCH | You're good. Her name's Evelyn Shore. Evvy, for short. Pretty, isn't she? Nice smile. Natural blonde, I'd say. I |
JUKES | I suppose. (Unidentified sound) |
ROESCH | Cracking your knuckles can lead to arthritis later, I'm told, Buddy. Just a thought. Let me show you another photograph. We didn't take this one, either. A school photo, I believe. They must make all the girls wear black sweaters and white pearls. Tell me if you've ever seen this one. |
(5-second pause)
JUKES | No, sir, I haven't. |
ROESCH | It's Artie. Take your time. You don't remember seeing this picture in the newspaper last year? On TV? |
JUKES | I don't read the news or watch much TV. |
ROESCH | Oh, well, that would explain it. The girl's name is Barbara Pickens. Her murder is the one we're investigating. |
JUKES | I just thought of something. You know that missing girl? |
ROESCH | Evelyn Shore? |
JUKES | Yeah. You said she went missing on a Monday in May. I would've taken my wife to her drama club that night. She never missed a rehearsal. I would've dropped her off around eight then gone to my pastor's office for Bible study. |
ROESCH | Will your wife and pastor testify to that? |
JUKES | I don't see why not. |
ROESCH | Okay, good, we'll get statements from them. I want to talk about your car for a minute. As you know, we impounded it and technicians have been checking it over pretty good. They found a pair of women's panties stuffed way under the front seat. And want to hear something coincidental? The dead girl, Barbara Pickens, wasn't wearing panties when they found her. We haven't yet asked her mother to take a look at the ones we found in your car but we will, we will. What can you tell me about those panties? |
(20-second pause)
| Â | You're rocking back and forth, Buddy. Do you need to go to the can? You're shaking your head no. Okay, let's go on. The panties? |
JUKES | They must be my wife's. |
ROESCH | How long you been married? |
ROESCH | What's your wife's name, Buddy? |
JUKES | Ladonna. |
ROESCH | Pretty name. Any kids? |
JUKES | One on the way in December. |
ROESCH | Congratulations. I've got two kids. Lot of work, big expense, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. Now, your wife, Ladonna. Is she in the habit of taking her panties off in the car? |
JUKES | I couldn't say. (Sound of door opening) |
OFFICER | Detective Roesch. Got a moment, sir? |
ROESCH | Can it wait? |
OFFICER | No, sir. |
ROESCH | (Sigh) Okay. Good time for a break? |
ROTELLA | I can take over. I'd like to press on. |
ROESCH | Oh, sure. Good idea. |
ROTELLA | For the benefit of the recording, my name is Detective Lorenzo Rotella of the Stony River Police Department, continuing the interview of Eldon Jukes at 9:32 |
JUKES | Okay. |
ROTELLA | I saw your car earlier this morning. It's a beauty. '53 Bel Air, right? |
JUKES | Uh huh. |
ROTELLA | What's that color called? |
JUKES | Surf green. |
ROTELLA | Nice. Dark green top, white walls, fender skirt. Expensive car. Buy it new? |
JUKES | No. I wasn't old enough to drive until '55. Got it second-hand that year. |
ROTELLA | Still. A pricey car for a teenager. |
JUKES | My grandmother paid for it so I could take her places and run errands. She doesn't drive. |
ROTELLA | How do you feel when you drive that car, Buddy? |
JUKES | What do you mean? |
ROTELLA | Take me, for example. I drive a '56 Ford Fairlane Victoria two-door hardtop. Bought it new when I got back from Korea with the money I saved. Not much to spend it on over there, you know? When I drive that |
JUKES | Why do you care how I feel when I drive my car? |
ROTELLA | I'm curious. I like to get to know people. |
JUKES | Well, I don't feel like talking about the car. It's transportation, is all. |
ROTELLA | Okay, tell me what you like about the A&P. |
JUKES | (Laugh) Besides the fact they pay me? |
ROTELLA | Yeah. |
JUKES | (Sigh. 10-second pause) Everything's in order. You know what to do every day. You're busy. No time for crazy thoughts. |
ROTELLA | What kind of crazy thoughts? |
JUKES | I shouldn't have said that. I don't have to say anything. I know my rights. |
ROTELLA | That's right you don't have to say anything. It's okay to be scared. This is a scary time for you. But, you know, everybody has crazy thoughts. Me, I'm obsessive about my clothes. They have to be clean and pressed, no buttons missing, no loose threads. I think it's because of my face. You noticed my face, right? |
JUKES | Yes, sir. What happened? |
ROTELLA | Pimples gone berserk. You're lucky you have good skin. Anyway, I think because my face is so ugly I overcompensate with my clothes. What do you think of that theory? |
