Scents of diesel and farmland intensified as the afternoon sun elbowed its way through the clouds. Its filtered rays cast shadows across the railroad tracks. On the side of the train depot, Ellis had found a quiet spot of shade to stand and talk.
“Now, like I said,” Walter Gale reiterated, “I only caught what I could see and hear from my motorcar.”
“Completely understand,” Ellis assured him. He wished he could jot details on the notepad in his pocket, but given the subject matter, Walt didn’t feel comfortable going on record of any kind. It didn’t matter that Ellis, as the author of the related article, was just following up now for personal knowledge.
“So, what can I tell ya?” Walt hitched his hands on the denim trousers that hung a bit loose and short on his thin frame.
“At the Dillards’ house that day, do you remember there being a sign? The one that was in the paper.”
“About them kids for sale?” Walt thought hard, using his tongue to adjust the tobacco under his lower lip.
Ellis feared that leaving the jagged board behind had somehow led to this.
Walt’s prominent Adam’s apple shifted before he replied, “Don’t recall so.” Then he dropped his chin toward Ellis. “But you wanna know something interesting about that sign? The folks down the road…the Joneses? They posted one just like it before they up and moved.”
Heat, like a current, zipped down Ellis’s spine. He braced for the damning conclusion.
“Gave Mrs. Dillard the idea, I’d gander.” Walt shrugged. “At any rate, that man did hand over a hefty pile of green for the two little ones. That I did see clear as day.”
A mix of relief and shame continued to burn within Ellis as he aimed to focus. “Got anything else you could tell me about him?”
“Oh, I’d say he was…six feet or so. Average build. Mustache and glasses. Wore a hat, so can’t say about the hair.”
Ellis nodded along, despite the common description. If he were sketching a wanted criminal, half the men in the country would qualify for the lineup. “Anything more?”
“He was fairly soft-spoken. Seemed nice enough…as bankers go.” Walt’s derision over the occupation wasn’t rare these days. But for Ellis, the detail might prove a benefit. It was the same tidbit the postman had passed along.
“Did the man specifically mention working at a bank? Or is that just a guess?”
Another casual shrug, though this time with a look of pride. “I worked at Penn Station, over in Pittsburgh, long enough to tell. Watched passengers come and go. That fella? Had a silk suit and fancy, polished shoes. Those were my first clues. When he first paid me to wait, I saw his bills were in neat order. All ones, twos, fives, and what have you. ‘Accountant or banker?’ I asked. ‘Banker,’ he says. He looked right confused, but didn’t take the time to ask how I knew, like most people do. Just went on to handle his business about the kids.”
His business. The two words sliced through Ellis, razor sharp. Blades of his own making. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t the only one involved.
“Did Mrs. Dillard… Was she upset at all?”
Walt spat his dark saliva onto the road. “Hard to say. Didn’t show it much. But for folks around here, during these times, they grow used to not having a whole lotta choices.”
“What about the kids? How’d they behave through all of it?”
“After hugging their mama? The boy took some cajoling to get in the car. He was confused some. But once we were on the road, he got pretty darn excited about taking a real train ride. Asked lots of questions.”
“And the girl?”
“Heard her sniffling during the drive. Otherwise, didn’t make a peep from what I recall.”
Ellis fought to block out the scene, not wanting to imagine that little girl’s spirit broken into pieces. “You didn’t hear where they were headed, did you?”
Walt shook his head. “Afraid that’s everything I know.” He wiped some spittle from his lip and glanced at his watch. “Well, if that does it, I’d better get a move on. Got errands to run before supper.”
Ellis dreaded releasing his sole witness, but it seemed the man had shared all he could. “Thank you, Walt. I appreciate your help.”
After a handshake, Walt strode over to a dusty car parked across the road. He climbed inside and started the engine.
Ellis was still well short of a sensible explanation. He hoped Lily was having luck gathering more clues.
“Come to think of it!” Walt suddenly hollered, his window down. “You might ask Blanche, inside there, about tickets sold—the last week of October. She’s likely to know where that train of theirs went.”
Ellis glanced back at the depot, connecting the name to the clerk. “You remember the exact week?” he yelled back, not meaning to sound incredulous. Fortunately Walt didn’t appear to view it as a challenge.
“Wedding anniversary’s on the twenty-eighth. With the fare from that banker, bought the missus a jar of cold cream she’d been hankering for. Well, good luck to ya!”
Ellis raised a hand in gratitude.
With a final spit, Walter Gale drove away.
