a very small area,” McAuliffe replied. “And a very few people. I’m afraid that my lack of enthusiasm for the lake is reflected in my law practice. There are two lawyers in town, you see. There’s Swenson, who’s the attorney for the power company and Eric Sutherland and for the quality folk hereabouts. Then there’s me.”
“What sort of practice?” Howell asked, intrigued.
“Whatever’s going. Drunk driving, the odd bootlegger, though that’s dying out, since liquor came to Sutherland. Terrible thing, legal booze. A lawyer could do very nicely in the bootlegging line a few years back. I do a will now and then, though most of my clients don’t have enough to bother with a will. And I sue Sutherland and the power company for people who get mad enough. Not many of them about,” he grinned. “If you’re mad at Eric Sutherland, I’m the only game in town.”
“Somehow it doesn’t sound very profitable to get mad at Eric Sutherland.”
“A good rule of thumb,” the lawyer agreed. “You’ll fit right in around here.”
“Well, I don’t expect to be around long enough for that to matter. Say, do you know the Kelly family, out near where I’m staying?”
McAuliffe nodded, but didn’t speak. He simply concentrated on the stuffed cabbage, staring at his plate.
“They’ve been very nice to me; Brian brought around some firewood, and Dermot came and tuned the piano.Their mother apparently sent them around. I can’t imagine how she knew I needed those things.”
McAuliffe stopped eating and looked at him. “Mama Kelly sent her boys to you?”
“That’s what they said.”
McAuliffe continued to stare blankly at him. “Jesus Christ,” he said finally.
Howell hardly knew how to reply to that. “Uh, how many Kellys are there?”
“There’s the twins, Brian and Mary, they’re the youngest. Dermot is the oldest, and Leonie comes after him, I think. There were a couple of other kids who died in infancy. Their father, Patrick Kelly, has been dead for twenty years, I guess.”
“Brian’s retarded, isn’t he?”
McAuliffe resumed eating and nodded. “His twin, Mary, is too, from all accounts. Dermot’s all right, except he’s an albino, of course. Leonie . . . Leonie’s very bright. She’s . . . like her mother, in some ways.”
“What’s her mother like?”
“She’s . . . unusual, I guess you’d say. After Patrick passed on, Mama Kelly made her living for a long time—raised those children—as a sort of fortune-teller. She’s been sick for a couple of years now, though. Just hanging on, I hear.”
“Dermot says she wants to meet me. I guess I should go by there and thank her for the wood.”
McAuliffe stopped eating again. “John, let me give you some advice; you can take it or leave it.” He kept his voice low. “The Kellys make a lot of people around here . . . nervous, I guess you’d say. Eric Sutherland is prominent among them. A lot of people will have a piano tuner up herefrom Gainesville just to avoid using Dermot. You’re not going to endear yourself hereabouts if you have much to do with them. They . . . Oh, Jesus, I’m sounding like some sort of snob. That’s not what I mean to convey at all.”
“Well, just say it, Mac,” Howell replied. He was baffled.
“Oh, shit, I suppose you may as well know about this. It’ll come up sooner or later. Mama Kelly was married to her husband . . .”
Howell laughed. “So?”
“I’m really screwing this up,” the lawyer said, shaking his head. “What I meant to say was, the parents, Patrick and Lorna—that’s Mama Kelly—were brother and sister.”
It took a moment for this to sink in with Howell. “Jesus H. Christ! And they had how many kids? Why didn’t the law . . . ?”
“The valley was a remote backwoods area for a long time, until the lake came. People just minded their own business. After the lake came, though, Eric Sutherland and some other prominent locals started making
“What sort of practice?” Howell asked, intrigued.
“Whatever’s going. Drunk driving, the odd bootlegger, though that’s dying out, since liquor came to Sutherland. Terrible thing, legal booze. A lawyer could do very nicely in the bootlegging line a few years back. I do a will now and then, though most of my clients don’t have enough to bother with a will. And I sue Sutherland and the power company for people who get mad enough. Not many of them about,” he grinned. “If you’re mad at Eric Sutherland, I’m the only game in town.”
“Somehow it doesn’t sound very profitable to get mad at Eric Sutherland.”
“A good rule of thumb,” the lawyer agreed. “You’ll fit right in around here.”
“Well, I don’t expect to be around long enough for that to matter. Say, do you know the Kelly family, out near where I’m staying?”
McAuliffe nodded, but didn’t speak. He simply concentrated on the stuffed cabbage, staring at his plate.
“They’ve been very nice to me; Brian brought around some firewood, and Dermot came and tuned the piano.Their mother apparently sent them around. I can’t imagine how she knew I needed those things.”
McAuliffe stopped eating and looked at him. “Mama Kelly sent her boys to you?”
“That’s what they said.”
McAuliffe continued to stare blankly at him. “Jesus Christ,” he said finally.
Howell hardly knew how to reply to that. “Uh, how many Kellys are there?”
“There’s the twins, Brian and Mary, they’re the youngest. Dermot is the oldest, and Leonie comes after him, I think. There were a couple of other kids who died in infancy. Their father, Patrick Kelly, has been dead for twenty years, I guess.”
“Brian’s retarded, isn’t he?”
McAuliffe resumed eating and nodded. “His twin, Mary, is too, from all accounts. Dermot’s all right, except he’s an albino, of course. Leonie . . . Leonie’s very bright. She’s . . . like her mother, in some ways.”
“What’s her mother like?”
“She’s . . . unusual, I guess you’d say. After Patrick passed on, Mama Kelly made her living for a long time—raised those children—as a sort of fortune-teller. She’s been sick for a couple of years now, though. Just hanging on, I hear.”
“Dermot says she wants to meet me. I guess I should go by there and thank her for the wood.”
McAuliffe stopped eating again. “John, let me give you some advice; you can take it or leave it.” He kept his voice low. “The Kellys make a lot of people around here . . . nervous, I guess you’d say. Eric Sutherland is prominent among them. A lot of people will have a piano tuner up herefrom Gainesville just to avoid using Dermot. You’re not going to endear yourself hereabouts if you have much to do with them. They . . . Oh, Jesus, I’m sounding like some sort of snob. That’s not what I mean to convey at all.”
“Well, just say it, Mac,” Howell replied. He was baffled.
“Oh, shit, I suppose you may as well know about this. It’ll come up sooner or later. Mama Kelly was married to her husband . . .”
Howell laughed. “So?”
“I’m really screwing this up,” the lawyer said, shaking his head. “What I meant to say was, the parents, Patrick and Lorna—that’s Mama Kelly—were brother and sister.”
It took a moment for this to sink in with Howell. “Jesus H. Christ! And they had how many kids? Why didn’t the law . . . ?”
“The valley was a remote backwoods area for a long time, until the lake came. People just minded their own business. After the lake came, though, Eric Sutherland and some other prominent locals started making
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