Chapter Twenty-two

Whoever it was—Rolfe, I thought, from the bulk of the shadow—had stood by the door briefly, then left.

Malinda sighed audibly. “At the count of five,” she said, “starting now.”

“Margaret Alice never knew.” Verna drank tea.

“One,” said Malinda.

“Wait.” I put an arm out to stop Malinda, who dodged past it and sprinted for the door, where she rattled the knob frantically.

“Locked,” I said.

“Stuck,” said Miss Tempie, fiddling with another sandwich. “You girls. I’m surprised at both of you. No manners. You don’t ever leave until you’ve told your hostess you had a nice time. I don’t know about young people these days. They’re so narcissistic.”

“Not like us, our generation,” Verna said. “Why, you take Margaret Alice. She’d give you anything she had.”

“And you killed her,” I blurted to Verna. “You pushed her.”

Verna pushed out her lower lip and looked hurt. “Oh, Bethie honey, I’d never do a thing like that. I told you Margaret Alice was my best friend.”

“Not mine,” Miss Tempie said.

Malinda took her chair again, her face flushed, eyes slightly wider and frightened. Or angry? Some of both, I decided.

“Margaret Alice wouldn’t sell that house to the church,” Miss Tempie said.

“I never knew they wanted it,” I said.

“They still do, honey,” Verna said. “And they’ll get it.”

“Why? What does that little church want with Mama Alice’s house?” I hugged myself for strength and protection. “My house.” Things shifted in place in my mind … the break-in, intruder, trapping me in a mausoleum … all of it.

“The church,” Verna whispered. “Big business. Big bucks.”

Miss Tempie wasn’t involved in big business. Not that bat brain. No way. “If you didn’t push Mama Alice”—I had to get an answer and now was my chance—“who the hell did?” I stood over Verna and grabbed her shoulder.

Verna choked on her tea, sputtered and sprayed the tablecloth, my arm. “Nobody,” she said. “Nobody.”

I shook Verna’s arm. I’d get the truth out if I had to shake it out. I caught Malinda’s eyes and read, I’m with you. We can take them.

Verna collapsed back in her chair. “I found her.”

“Just like you said when you called me?” I let Verna go.

“It was a stroke.”

“All that time in the hospital and nursing home,” Miss Tempie said. “And those things cost you an arm and a leg.” She giggled. “I thought we’d get a lien.”

“And you almost did,” I said bitterly. “The nursing home took everything she had … but the house. That was next.”

“I got lost somewhere in all this. Who took what from whom? As my mama would make me say,” Malinda asked in a voice that sounded like she meant business.

“I thought Verna killed Mama Alice,” I said. “I found a note that said Mama Alice was pushed, and it was Verna’s handwriting.”

“Tempie made me do it.” Verna sat straighter in her chair. “It was her idea.”

“Well, now we know she wasn’t, so what harm did it do?” Miss Tempie seemed impatient. “Honestly, such a fuss over four words.”

“It isn’t the words,” I said. “It’s the deeds. And you’ve done some dirty ones.”

“All in the name of the Lord,” Miss Tempie said. “It’s His house … for His glory.”

“Foot,” Verna said. “To cover your tail. That’s all.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Back up. I want some answers and I want them here and now and I’m not leaving until I get them.”

“As if we could,” Malinda mumbled.

“It’s this way,” Verna said, then stopped. She put her hand to her forehead and slumped to the table, her face falling in her plate.

No one moved for a moment. Then Miss Tempie made a sound of disgust with her lips. “She gets overwrought. Then one little sip of sherry and she’s out.” There must have been sherry in Verna’s tea. Miss Tempie’s, too? I hadn’t tasted any in mine.

Someone moved behind the double glass doors and Miss Tempie tapped her saucer with a spoon.

Rolfe came to her elbow.

“Verna has left us,” Miss Tempie said. “Momentarily.” She indicated for Rolfe to remove her. “Let her nap in my bedroom.” She dismissed both of them with a little wave of her hand.

Rolfe slid his large hands under Verna’s arms and lifted her carefully from her chair as if she weighed nothing at all.

His right hand was wrapped in a bandage thick as a blanket. I heard Malinda draw in her breath at the sight of the telltale hand. “Easy,” she said. “Easy.”

Rolfe carried Verna from the room.

Miss Tempie rearranged her tea things with a great clinking and clattering of cups, saucers and spoons. “It’s really such a simple little story and it’s a shame you girls have been so curious to hear it. I fear you’ll have to stay here, once you know.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why did you invite us to come?”

“Why, honey,” Miss Tempie said, “I have to kill you. Absolutely have to. Sweet girls, both of you, but you can’t go poking around in other people’s business.”

“But,” I said, and looked at Malinda, who rolled her eyes.

Miss Tempie kept on, a crazy wide smile across her wrinkle-creviced face. “If you girls hadn’t found the hemlock down by my own private little pond. Ha ha. Oh, Rolfe does so love to dig, doesn’t he? This whole thing might have been covered up.” Miss Tempie put her hand over her mouth as she laughed at her own little joke. “Covered up.” She slapped both hands on the table, “And now he has to conk you two over the head with his shovel and bury you here. He’s so good with that shovel.”