“Come in,” she said, picking up the groceries and stepping over the threshold. Hannah and Jenny followed her in-side, bringing the cavorting dogs with them.
“You must be freezing,” Joanna said as she switched on the overhead light.
“I am just a little cold,” Hannah Green replied. “Not too bad, though.” She stopped in the middle of the floor and stared down at the dogs, who were still milling around the room. Jenny dropped to the floor with them, threw both arms around Tigger, and buried her face in the flowing golden fur on the back of his neck.
“Daddy wouldn’t never let me have a dog,” Hannah was saying, as Joanna placed the bags of groceries on the counter. “He hated having animals inside the house. Said they was filthy.” For a space she stood there watching Jenny and the dogs. “What do you call ‘em?” she asked at last.
When Jenny didn’t answer, Joanna did. “The bluetick hound is called Sadie. The funny looking one with the white patch around his eye is Tigger.”
“And they won’t hurt me?” Hannah asked.
“No,” Joanna said reassuringly. “They’re fine.”
The two women stood facing each other across the kitchen over the heads of Jenny and the dogs. Hannah’s hair hadn’t been washed in a very long time. Neither had the rest of her.
“You sure them dogs won’t bite?” Hannah asked.
“I’m sure,” Joanna said.
Tentatively, Hannah reached out her hand. “Come here, doggy,” she said. “Nice doggy.”
Sadie was the first to notice Hannah’s outstretched hand. With her head cocked Io one side and with her nose quivering an inspection, she stood up and came over to where Hannah was standing. As Hannah ran her hand flown the dog’s smooth, blue-black coal, a strange look passed over her bedraggled, wrinkle-scored face. It was a look of almost child-like wonder.
“I never knew a dog would be this soft!” she exclaimed.
Jenny pulled away from Tigger’s neck and looked over at Hannah with a disbelieving blue-eyed stare. “You mean you’ve never even touched a dog before?” Joanna cringed at the arch skepticism in Jenny’s voice. Joanna was afraid the very tone of it would upset the woman.
“Jenny,” Joanna hissed. “Mind your manners.”
Hannah, however, was so preoccupied with petting the dog that she didn’t seem to notice. Tigger, always eager to receive his share of attention, stood up and came to collect some petting for himself. While Joanna watched breathlessly, Hannah Green’s other hand emerged from the concealing pocket and came to rest on the second dog’s raised forehead. Only then did Joanna realize that Hannah Green wasn’t armed.
Her right hand didn’t hold a weapon-could not have held a weapon. The whole hand was horribly maimed. Useless, mangled fingers bent crookedly across a partially missing thumb.
“What kind of a dog is this?” Hannah Green asked distractedly as her crippled hand ran back and forth across Tigger’s silky blond head.
“Half golden retriever, half pitbull,” Jenny answered. “His owner died, and we adopted him. He’s real smart, except for porcupines. He keeps coming home with his face covered with porcupine quills. When that happens, we have to take him to the vet.”
Jenny faltered then. In talking about her dog it seemed as though she had forgotten the strained circumstances that surrounded the question. Remembering, she fell silent.
For Joanna, the realization that Hannah Green’s right hand didn’t contain a gun completely changed the dynamics of the situation. At first she wasn’t sure how to react. It was still possible that Hannah might be concealing another weapon somewhere else on her body, but somehow, watching her pet the dogs, Joanna doubted that.
Maybe what Hannah Green had told them in the beginning was true. Maybe all she really wanted to do was talk. To that end, the best thing Joanna could do was try to establish a sense of rapport, a sense of normalcy. She dropped her purse on the counter beside the grocery bags. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Would you like something to eat?”
“Just a piece of bread or two would be fine,” Hannah answered. “And maybe a little bit of jam if you have some.”
“I was going to bake a couple of pork chops,” Joanna said. “If you don’t mind waiting until they cook, I’m sure we’ll have plenty to go around.” She looked at Jenny. “While the food’s cooking, Jenny, you get busy with your homework. You told me you have a whole bunch of math to do for Mrs. Voland’s class.”
Jenny shot her mother a surprised look. “But Mom…”
“No argument, young lady.” Joanna abruptly stifled jenny’s objection before the child could reveal that her teacher’s name was really Mrs. Harper, not Mrs. Voland. All Joanna could do was hope Jenny was smart enough to take the hint. Take it and act on it.
“No argument at all,” Joanna finished. “Get now. And take the dogs with you. They’ll just be in the way. Mrs. Green and I need to talk.”
Without further discussion, Jenny took the dogs and her school backpack and retreated to her bedroom. Relieved that, for the time being at least, Jenny was out of any immediate danger, Joanna turned to the everyday task of putting away groceries. After the unnerving terror of the preceding minutes, the little kitchen seemed impossibly warm and homey. Despite Hannah Green’s still ominous presence, folding the empty paper bags and putting them in the bottom drawer gave an air of mind-bending domesticity to the proceedings.
Hannah Green slid onto the bench in the breakfast nook and slouched there. The despair emanating from her was almost as powerful as the stink of her great unwashed body. Her flat, vacant features could never have been considered remotely attractive, but she seemed at home in her placid ugliness.
“Before you and I say anything more, Mrs. Green,” Joanna cautioned, “you must understand that I’m a police officer. Since you’re a suspect in the death of your father, you probably shouldn’t be talking to anyone-me included-without first consulting an attorney and without being read your rights.”
“Don’t care none about my rights and can’t afford no fancy attorney,” Hannah returned morosely. “All’s I’ve got with me is just what I had laid by in my underwear drawer. Five hundred fifty dollars and some change. I don’t reckon that’d go any too far in hirin’ me one of them there lawyers.”
“If you can’t afford an attorney-”
“Besides,” Hannah continued, seemingly unperturbed. “Don’t much want one anyways. I already tol’ you I kilt him. And if’n they send me to jail, leastways I’ll have food to eat and a roof over my head. It serves him right, my daddy. He allus said I wasn’t smart enough to rub two sticks together. He allus said that without him I’d just up and starve to death. Well, I reckon I won’t. Nobody’ll let me starve in jail, will they?”
Joanna had pried the plastic wrap off the pork chops and begun to season them, dropping them into a cast-iron skillet and browning them before placing the skillet in the oven. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t suppose they will.”
“See there?” Hannah said. “I’ll be fine. Just fine.”
Joanna could think of nothing to say in reply.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I did it?” Hannah asked a moment later. Joanna shook her head. “I’m gonna tell you anyways. You see, I just wanted to change the damn channel. That’s all. Daddy wouldn’t never let me watch what I wanted. It was just pure meanness on his part. That’s what made me so mad. He didn’t want to watch nothin’ else. Didn’t care about no other channel so long as I couldn’t watch what I wanted. He just got up and went outside and took that clicker with him. I coulda changed it on the set, but I wanted to use the clicker like a regular person.
“He went out and I went chasin’ after him, tellin’ him to bring it back-to bring it back right now. But he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t no way. Jus’ kept right on walkin’-didn’t even have no coat on-and I kept right after him, yellin’ my fool head off, tellin’ him to give it back. And then somethin’ happened. He musta tripped and fell and didn’t get up. The next thing I knowed, I was standin’ over him with a rock in my hand, bashin’ the back of his head in, all the while screamin’ at him at the top of my lungs. ‘Give it to me. Give it back!’ “