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Fixing breakfast for Henry was always Ruby’s favorite thing. This was the first time they had slept so late since the drive-by shooting tore up their house, so it would be a perfect day for a leisurely brunch. Last night’s fire had created too much excitement for either of them to get back to sleep until six, so they shut off the alarm and slept till eleven-thirty. Ruby chopped fruit for salad and beat some eggs for scrambling.
Henry came downstairs smelling of the soap he had showered with. He was tempting in a white terrycloth robe, but Ruby kept on preparing brunch. “You think our problems with the crack house are over now?” she asked.
“If she had insurance, I suppose it’s possible she could rebuild it. I’d think she got the message, though. Or maybe she thinks it was an accident.”
“You don’t think it was?”
“I’m sure it was. I’m just saying that she might think it was arson. A rival drug dealer, maybe.”
Ruby poured the eggs into the skillet. “Did you hear Mrs. Henthorne saying last night that the district attorney isn’t going to bring her case to the grand jury? I guess they told her that this week.”
“I heard her. Shoot a black man, he’s expendable. I think they should have brought it before a grand jury, let them hear all the facts and decide.”
“He had broken into her house. No telling what he would have done to her, especially if he was one of the crack house customers. The autopsy did show drugs in his body. I probably would have done the same thing myself.”
Henry laughed. “You? You wouldn’t shoot anybody. We don’t have anything to shoot them with, except for that old shotgun of your daddy’s. I can’t remember where it is, and I don’t know if it works any more. You wouldn’t know how to use it if it did.”
Ruby stirred the eggs. “Maybe we ought to take it to a gun shop and see what it would take to get it fixed. We could keep it in our bedroom.”
“What we need around here are some more smoke alarms. We just have the one in the kitchen.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right.” The knock on the door came as she said the words, and Ruby felt a twinge of uneasiness at the intrusion. Maybe it was just that breakfast was being interrupted. She turned down the heat under the skillet.
“I’ll get it,” Henry said. She heard him open the door, and then he returned with a young black man. “This is Sean Hawkins, from the fire marshal’s office. My wife, Ruby.”
Ruby shook his hand and turned off the fire under the skillet. “Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please. Sorry to interrupt your lunch. I need to ask a few questions about the fire that happened down the street last night.”
Questions about the fire? Ruby’s hand shook just a little as she poured the coffee, and the uneasiness she felt at the knock on the door was growing into panic. Henry was being so nonchalant. Something was wrong here, and she couldn’t get it sorted out.
“You folks were at the party across the street last night?”
“Yes, the whole neighborhood was,” Henry said.
“Did you notice anything unusual during the evening?”
“No, nothing.”
“Did anyone leave the party and return later?”
Ruby set a cup of coffee in front of him. “No, no one left. We sang Christmas carols and ate too many cookies.” She would have attempted a chuckle, but the constriction in her throat would have caused it to sound forced.
Henry glanced at her. “Nothing unusual happened at all. We stayed till after eleven and helped Frank and Monica clean up.”
What was she going to do if someone else told Hawkins that Henry had left? Did anyone else notice except Frank? She would have to say the trip for ice was so short, she hadn’t really thought about it as leaving the party. Her heart fluttered as she thought about the authorities, sure she had lied, questioning her further.
Maybe she should have let Henry answer the question, but she knew just as sure as she was his wife that he had set the fire, and she wasn’t sure how he would answer. In a fraction of a second she had made a decision that left her wondering about her soul and about what Henry would think of her for lying.
“Did you know the house that burned was considered a crack house?”
“We certainly did,” Henry said calmly. “We had a neighborhood effort going here to shut it down. We’d been having protests every other week.”
“Nothing unusual happened there? No one showed any unusual animosity toward Mary Williams?”
Henry cleared his throat. “We were all upset about having a crack house on our block. There was constant traffic in and out of there, and sometimes we’d have strange looking characters wandering the street. Sometimes they’d hang out in that vacant house next door till the owner boarded it up. Everyone was worried about the situation, but not so worried as to set fire to the house, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Hawkins kept scribbling on his clip-boarded notepad. “I’m just trying to get all the facts at present.”
“Is there some indication it was arson?”
“None at present. It started on the back porch, and there was an old refrigerator there. It’s likely it started in that. We have to check, that’s all.”
They had just walked him to the door when Ruby heard the phone ring. She ran back to the kitchen to answer it. “Is Henry Jackson there?” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
Henry held the phone to his ear for a while without saying anything. She could tell by the look on his face that something disturbing was being said on the other end of the line.
“You ever call here again, you son-of-a-bitch, I’m going to get you,” he finally shouted. He slammed the phone down. “I’m going to have to kill that bastard to get him off my back.”
“What was it?” Ruby’s voice was trembling.
“Hugh Andrews. Him and his God-damned bulldozing jobs.”
“Henry! You can’t take the law into your own hands like that. That’s just as bad as the Klan.” She started to sob and covered her face with her hands.
She felt his big arms around her, and she buried her face in the terrycloth robe and wished life could be as simple as it was in the early days when their biggest worry was making his paycheck stretch from one payday to the next.
