This story takes place in the time gap between the second and third Laura Fleming novels: Dead Ringer and Trouble Looking for a Place to Happen.
The Walters family of Walters Mill might be Scrooges for most of the year, but when it came to the Christmas party, they really did it up right: fancy decorations, an open bar, plenty of tasty refreshments, and a disk jockey to play dance music. Even though I was there with my cousin Thaddeous instead of my husband Richard, I would have had myself a good old time if I hadn't been so concerned with trying to figure out who murdered Fannie Topper.
Instead of having fun, I was devoting my attention to the three men that could have killed her. I didn't really expect any of them to confess, of course. The idea was to try to figure out a motive for the killing.
First I chatted with Joe Bowley over plates of ham and roast beef. He looked like a man who enjoyed his food, but didn't mind talking while he ate. Of course I couldn't just casually bring up the subject of a murder that happened twenty–five years ago, so I got him to discuss barbeque. I thought that it would eventually lead to Fannie Topper's barbeque place, but no such luck. I don't know if he avoided talking about Fannie on purpose or not, but he went on and on about Buck Overton's in Mt. Airy, which he hadn't even been to since before Fannie was killed.
Next I tried dancing with Bobby Plummer, and I had to admit that he was a real good dancer. He was light on his feet and smiled gallantly when I stepped on his toes. He didn't hold me so tight the way some men try to do, which made me wonder if the rumors about him being gay were true. Maybe he was just being polite. Bobby was in much better shape than Joe, so with him, I asked about exercise. Specifically, playing baseball. I thought sure that he'd mention the championship the Walters Mill team had won all those years ago, the party afterwards, and the murder after that. Nope. He talked about NordicTrack.
Finally I sat on the edge of the hall with Pete Fredericks. Getting him to talk about death was no problem, but it wasn't what I had in mind. It seemed that Pete was going to be leaving the mill soon to work with one of Byerly's morticians. I learned lots about what happened to people after death, but nothing about how one particular woman came to die.
When the party ended, I didn't know a bit more than I had before I got there. And it was only two days before Christmas.
If I had had the sense God gave a milk cow, I told myself, I would have just bought Aunt Edna a sweater or a nightgown when I drew her name that Christmas. But no, I had to get it into my head that I was going to give her something she really wanted. That meant solving a twenty–five–year–old murder and laying Marley's ghost to rest.
* * *
I got the idea the day after Richard and I arrived in Byerly for Christmas, and I went to pay my duty call on Aunt Edna. If it had been Aunt Nora or Aunt Daphine, or almost any other Burnette, I'd have just tapped on the front door and walked in. But this was Aunt Edna's house, so I rang the doorbell and waited for her to answer.
She opened the door so quickly that I knew she must have heard me drive up. "Hey, Laurie Anne. Come on in. Where's Richard?"
"He snuck off to finish his Christmas shopping." I knew that the prospect of spending time with Aunt Edna had been the real reason my husband couldn't wait to shop, and given a choice, I'd have gone with him. It's not that I didn't like Aunt Edna, exactly, but she and I had never been close. Other than being related, we didn't seem to have a whole lot in common.
We hugged briefly in the hall, and then she took my coat to hang up.
"You're wearing an awful light jacket for this time of year," she said. "Aren't you cold?"
"I guess I've gotten used to the winters up North." After several years in Boston, December in North Carolina seemed almost warm in comparison.
"Why don't you go have a seat in the living room, and I'll get us some hot chocolate."
"That would be nice."
It felt funny to be waiting in the living room like I was company. Any of my other aunts would have invited me into the kitchen instead of leaving me alone like that.
The room was chilly because it wasn't used often, but there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. I never have understood the idea of keeping a room pristine for company, but obviously Aunt Edna did. Every chair was angled just so, and each sofa pillow was stiffly placed.
The only friendly touch was the row of Christmas cards taped along the mantel, and rather than disturb those pillows, I went to look and see who had sent them. There was the funny snowman that Richard and I had sent, a sweet–faced Madonna from Aunt Ruby Lee, a cheerful Santa Claus from Aunt Nora, and a pretty snow scene from Aunt Daphine.
There was one particularly elaborate card with a pear tree decorated with turtledoves, pipers piping, and representatives of the other days of Christmas. I looked inside and read the message: "Merry Christmas. I hope things have gone well for you." It was signed Caleb.
Caleb? I didn't know any Caleb. Did Aunt Edna have a new beau? I didn't think it was very likely. There was a photo of Aunt Edna on top of the mantel, and I couldn't help but compare the young woman in the picture to the older woman who had met me at the door. Somehow she had changed from slender to skinny, and the fine hair that had flowed over her shoulders was now tightly pinned into a bun.
Aunt Edna brought in two mugs of hot chocolate. "Here you go," she said.
"Thank you."
We sat down on the couch and sipped.
"How have you been doing, Aunt Edna?"
"Fair to middling. Yourself?"
"About the same. Have you got your Christmas shopping done?"
"Pretty much. How about you?"
"I have a few pieces to pick up yet." As a matter of fact, I still had to find a gift for Aunt Edna. Since there were so many Burnettes, we didn't try to buy gifts for everybody. Instead we drew names, and ever since Thanksgiving I had been trying to come up with something my aunt would want. "Whenever I go into the stores, I keep finding things I want for myself instead of for the one I'm shopping for," I said subtly. "Don't you hate it when that happens?"
"I haven't seen much that interested me this year," she said.
So much for subtlety. I took a big swallow of hot chocolate, and wondered how long I'd have to stay before I could exit gracefully.
"Did you put your Christmas tree in the den?" I asked, since there wasn't one visible.
"I didn't bother with one this year. Just me by myself, it doesn't seem worth the trouble. Nora will have one for Christmas morning."
"A tree is a lot of work," I agreed, thinking of the live tree Richard and I had put up right after Thanksgiving so we'd have time to enjoy it before coming down for Christmas. "Your cards are pretty."
That got a little smile out of her. "I do enjoy getting Christmas cards," she said. "Of course, people don't send them like they used to. They cost so much now."
"That's true." I snuck a look at my watch. Only ten minutes gone.
"How's work?" Aunt Edna asked, and I gratefully launched into a description of my latest project. I know she wasn't really interested in the advantages and disadvantages of programming in Visual Basic, but I figured that anything was better than dead silence. I finally stopped when I saw her eyes start to glaze over.
"And Richard?" she prompted. "How is his work?"
That gave me a chance for another monologue. Then I asked about her son Linwood, his wife Sue, and their kids. That helped a little. Then she caught me up on her church activities, the real focus of her life.
Another look at my watch. We were now up to twenty–five minutes, and had already exhausted our best topics. I'd have even welcomed her asking me when Richard and I were going to start a family, a question I usually dread. Instead, we fell into a strained silence. There are companionable silences where people just enjoy each other's company, but this wasn't one of them.
In desperation, I looked up at her Christmas cards again. "Who's Caleb?"
Aunt Edna started so hard that she spilled hot chocolate on her dress. "What?"
"That card is signed 'Caleb,'" I said, surprised that the question had caused such a reaction. "I was just wondering who he is."
She stared at the card. "Just a friend. An old friend. Somebody I used to know."
That was the last time during that interminable hour that Aunt Edna seemed to know I was there. Oh, she said the right things at the right times and she offered me more hot chocolate, but I could tell that her mind wasn't in the same room as I was. It was a relief when enough time passed that I could politely leave.
* * *
After that, I couldn't wait to get to Aunt Nora's, where I walked right in, got enthusiastic hugs from Aunt Nora, Uncle Buddy, and cousins Thaddeous and Willis, and was promptly installed in the kitchen with more hot chocolate. Aunt Nora was shorter and rounder than Aunt Edna, kept her hair nicely styled and dyed, and she smiled all the time. Even her hot chocolate was sweeter.
After we had gone through the preliminaries of work and gossip, I asked, "Aunt Nora, do you have any idea of what I can get Aunt Edna for Christmas? I can't think of a thing."
"Well, you could get her a sweater. Or a nightgown is always good."
"Didn't Ilene get her a nightgown last year? And I know Carlelle got her a sweater the year before that."
"And I gave her a nightgown and robe myself three years ago," Aunt Nora said. "Edna's not easy to shop for."
"I'll say." Then I remembered that odd Christmas card. "Do you know somebody named Caleb? A friend of Aunt Edna's?"
She didn't jump like Aunt Edna had, but she did look mighty surprised. "Caleb? She used to know a Caleb. Why do you ask?"
"She got a Christmas card from him. When I asked her who it was, she acted real strange, and I just wondered why."
"Surely it can't be that Caleb," she said, more to herself than to me. "What did the card say?"
"'Merry Christmas and I hope things have worked out all right.' Something like that. Who in the Sam Hill is Caleb?"
"Caleb is Edna's ex–boyfriend. One of them, anyway. She dated lots of fellows, but Caleb was the one she fell for. She's never been the same since they broke up."
"Aunt Edna dated around?"
"Oh yes. She was the most popular one of us sisters. Your mama was the smart one, just like you. Nellie was the dreamer, Ruby Lee was the pretty one, Daphine was the one with common sense, and I was the hard worker. But Edna––she was the one with spirit. You should have seen her. She was a pistol."
"My Aunt Edna?"
"You young people think the world didn't exist until you came along," she said, shaking her head. "You never knew the Edna I grew up with. All the boys were crazy about her, and she broke half a dozen hearts before she decided just which one she wanted. And that was Caleb."
"So what happened?"
"Caleb left Byerly a long time ago. After Fannie Topper died."
"Fannie Topper?" That name sounded familiar. So did Caleb's, now that I heard it in that context. "You're not talking about Caleb Wilkins, are you? The one who killed Fannie Topper?"
Every kid in Byerly knew about Marley's ghost. Fannie Topper used to run a barbeque and beer joint in Marley, the black section of Byerly. One night her little boy Tim came downstairs looking for her and found a man standing by her dead body, covered in blood. They say Fannie didn't believe in banks and she had a lot of money hidden somewhere, and that the man came looking for it. When she caught him, he killed her. Since nobody but Fannie knew where the money was hidden, it was never recovered. The story was that her ghostly figure appeared either to guard the money or to show somebody where it was, depending on who was telling it.
The man found over Fannie's body was Caleb Wilkins.
"He was found not guilty," Aunt Nora said firmly.
"I know, but everybody always said that the only reason he got off was because there wasn't enough evidence."
"Well, everybody saying something doesn't make it so. I didn’t think he did it then, and I don't think so now. More importantly, Edna never thought Caleb did it."
"The trial and all must have been awful for her."
"Well, it wasn't easy to get through, I can tell you that. Of course, all of us Burnettes knew he didn't do it, and when he was found not guilty, we thought it was all over and that he and Edna were going to live happily ever after."
"What happened?"
"What happened is that the people in this town drove Caleb away. They started walking by him on the street like he wasn't there, and whispering behind his back, and things like that. Oh, not everybody, but enough that he said he didn't feel at home here anymore. Can you imagine that? His family had been in Byerly for years and years."
"So he left town."
She nodded. "It was just about this time of year when the trial ended and Caleb saw how people were going to be treating him for the rest of his life. He came over to the house Christmas day and we sang carols and ate Mama's coconut cake and visited. That evening, we sisters played music on the record player so we could dance."
She looked up at me. "You were there, too. Just a little thing, and your mama and daddy were holding you between them so the three of you could dance together. Then Paw took you so they could dance." She smiled, remembering that night. I wished that I could remember it, too. My parents and grandfather were gone now, and I still missed them, especially at Christmas.
"Anyway, it got late and Edna went out on the porch with Caleb to kiss him good night. Then he left. The next morning Paw gave her a letter, said that Caleb had asked him to give it to her."
"What did it say?"
"It was Caleb saying goodbye to Edna. He said he couldn't stay in Byerly anymore, that he had to make a fresh start. He said he couldn't ask her to come with him, not when he didn't know where he was going or how he was going to make a living, so he thought it was best to just go alone. He said he hoped her life would be everything she had ever dreamed about."
Aunt Nora was quiet for a long time, and I finally asked, "Didn't she try to find him?"
"Lord no! She didn't want to find him. After she read that letter, she was so mad that she ripped it into little bitty pieces. Then she threw it and everything he had ever given her into the trash can. Every bit of it."
"I can't imagine Aunt Edna that angry."
"Laurie Anne, I'd never seen anybody so fired up. Here she had stayed with him all through his being arrested and in jail and on trial. When people stared at them on the street, she stared right back. She did all that for him, and then he up and left her. If he had come back that same day, I think she would have slammed the door right in his face."
"Do you think she would have gone with him if he had asked?"
"I know she would have. She loved him that much. But he didn't ask. It wasn't long afterwards that she started dating Loman, and they were engaged within the month and married that summer. You know how things turned out with them."
I knew that Loman hadn't been much of a husband to Aunt Edna, and I was fairly sure that she was better off now that he was dead.
As if guessing my thoughts, Aunt Nora shrugged and said, "Maybe Loman wasn't the best man in the world, but at least he was here. Still, I don't think Edna ever got over Caleb."
After that we talked about other things, but now I was preoccupied, just like Aunt Edna had been. Only I wasn't dreaming about a lost love; I was thinking that I had stumbled on something I could give Aunt Edna for Christmas.
* * *
"I never would have guessed that Aunt Edna had a past," Richard said after I got back to Aunt Maggie's house and told him the story.
Actually, first I gave my lanky, dark–haired husband a hug and a kiss. Then I asked him where Aunt Maggie was, and found out that after she made sure that he still knew where the kitchen and the bathroom were, she had headed out. Aunt Maggie sold collectibles at flea markets and auctions, and Christmas was such a busy time for her that we probably wouldn't even see her until Christmas day. That's one reason Richard and I liked staying with her when we came to Byerly. She went her way, and let us do the same.
Richard asked, "Why do you suppose no one ever told you about Aunt Edna and Caleb Wilkins?"
"Maybe it's just something nobody wanted to talk about. You know how the Burnettes are. We talk about each other all the time, but we don't really say a whole lot."
"'Full of sound and fury,'" Richard quoted, "'signifying nothing.' Macbeth, Act V, scene 5."
Frequently quoting the Bard is the closest my husband has to a fault, at least as far as I'm concerned. I was used to it, but my relatives still wonder how a Yankee who teaches Shakespeare at Boston College ended up in our family.
"Wouldn't it be great if we could find Caleb and bring him back home?" I said. "Wouldn't that be a wonderful present for Aunt Edna?"
"May I assume that you want to investigate this murder?"
"No, I'm not interested in the murder. I just want to find Caleb Wilkins." Richard looked suspicious, but I went on. "The question is, is he the kind of man I want in Aunt Edna's life? What if he really did kill Fannie Topper?"
"I thought you said he was found innocent."
"He was found not guilty, and that's not always the same thing. There just wasn't enough evidence to prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt."
"Aunt Edna is convinced."
"And look at Aunt Edna's late husband. He wasn't exactly a model citizen. No offense to her, but I want a little more to go on than her trust in her boyfriend."
"So you do want to solve the murder."
"No, I don't," I insisted. "I just want to make sure that it wasn't Wilkins."
"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.' Hamlet, Act III, scene 2." I started to object, but Richard kept going. "How do you expect to get evidence of Wilkins's innocence without solving the crime?"
"I don't need evidence. I'll settle for an objective opinion."
"And which aunt, uncle, or cousin shall we consult for objectivity?"
"Not a cousin, because they're too young to know any details, same as me. And not an aunt or uncle, either. They all knew Wilkins, so they'd be biased, too. I think I'll talk to Chief Norton."
"Junior?" Richard said, meaning Byerly's current chief of police and a good friend of ours.
I shook my head. "Junior was just a kid when Fannie Topper was killed. I mean her father, Andy Norton." He would have been in charge then, and he had been as good at his job then as she was now.
I looked up the Nortons' phone number and dialed it. Chief Norton himself answered.
"Chief Norton? This is Laura Fleming."
"Well, hey there, Laurie Anne."
I didn't bother to correct him on my name; it wasn't worth it. Instead we chatted about life in Boston and folks in Byerly for a little while before I got down to business. "Chief Norton..."
"You better not call me 'Chief,'" he said with a smile in his voice. "Junior wouldn't like that. You can call me Andy."
"All right," I said, but I knew I wouldn't. In Boston I call people of all ages by their first names, but I just can't do it when I'm in Byerly. "The reason I'm calling is to ask you if you remember when Fannie Topper was killed."
"Laurie Anne, do you think there's been so many murders in Byerly that I'd forget one? Especially a case that was never closed."
"I guess not."
"What are you asking about Fannie Topper for, anyway? That was twenty–five years ago."
"My Aunt Edna got a Christmas card from Caleb Wilkins, and I want to find him."
There was a pause. "Edna never did believe that Caleb Wilkins killed Fannie."
"Do you?"
"That's not an easy question to answer." Another pause. "Laurie Anne, my wife has gone Christmas shopping with the girls. Why don't you and your husband come on over here and we'll talk about it."
* * *
Chief Norton must have been watching for us, because he had the front door open before we got to the porch. "Come on inside," he said cheerfully. "It's colder than a polar bear's behind out there." He wasn't a tall man, but he had that same sense of presence that helped make his daughter a formidable police chief. His hair was all gray now, and he was dressed in slacks and a cardigan instead of the trim uniform he used to wear when I was young.
I introduced Richard, and once we got our coats hung up, Chief Norton led the way into the kitchen. Though I knew from previous visits that Mrs. Norton usually kept her kitchen spotless, this time every bit of counter was covered with sheets of decorated sugar cookies.
"Sorry there's such a mess. Daisy got all the cookie sheets ready so I can stick them in when the timer goes off." He grinned. "It was either do this or go along with her and the girls to carry bags. Sit yourselves down and I'll fix us some coffee."
We took seats around the kitchen table, cluttered with cookie supplies, and accepted the steaming mugs. "It smells heavenly in here," I said. It wasn't quite a hint, but I do love fresh sugar cookies.
Chief Norton held out a plate of broken cookies. "Help yourself. Daisy said I could have any that broke." He grinned again. "It's amazing how clumsy I can get if I work at it."
We spent a minute or two munching and complimenting cookies before Chief Norton asked, "Now what do you want to know about Fannie Topper's murder?"
I explained my idea for a Christmas gift, and finished with, "I know Aunt Edna thought that Wilkins was innocent, but before I track him down, I want to hear the facts from somebody else."
"Don't you believe your aunt?"
I didn't want to admit to somebody who wasn't family that I didn't trust Aunt Edna's judgment, so I said, "It's not that I don't believe her, it's just that after what happened with Loman, the last thing Aunt Edna needs is to be hurt again."
Chief Norton nodded, and I guessed I had given him the right answer. "Given what Junior has told me about your poking around in this murder and that, I might have guessed that you'd go after this one some day. What do you know about the case?"
"I know part of it just from hearing about it when I was young, but I don't really know the details."
Chief Norton settled himself down in that way that told me that a long story was coming, so I took another cookie and put on my best listening expression. Not only was it more polite, but you hear the most interesting stories that way.
"Fannie's Place was the most popular bar around Byerly at that time. Oh, there were fancier places, but hers was the best place to go to have a few beers and maybe a plate of barbeque. Fannie was just a little thing, and to see her, you'd never have thought she could run a bar like that. Always a smile on her face, and as nice as she could be, but she was as tough as they come. She made it a good place for people to go and have some fun.
"It was late summer, and the Walters Mill baseball team had just won the mill championship. Big Bill Walters was so tickled at having something to brag on that he threw a party down at Fannie's the day they won. He paid for a couple of kegs and the barbeque, even came by himself to shake the boys' hands. He hinted that there might be a little something extra in their pay packets that week, but of course after what happened, he wasn't about to pay no bonuses.
"The party went on into the wee hours. I was there myself for part of it, and it was a good time. Loud and rambunctious, but not rowdy. Fannie didn't let things get rowdy. Her brother Eb watched out for her, and he was the biggest man in Marley. Plus she had a shotgun behind the bar if people didn't want to listen to Eb.
"Caleb Wilkins was on the team, and he and Edna were there, dancing up a storm."
I found it hard to think of Aunt Edna dancing. Then I remembered what Aunt Nora had said about her.
Chief Norton went on. "As you might expect, the bar was one mess in this world after the party ended, so Caleb and Edna and a few others stayed on for a little while to help Fannie sweep up and take out the trash. I don't imagine they were much help, as high as they were, and Fannie finally chased them out, saying that she could get more done by herself. They all left at the same time, about two in the morning.
"Caleb took your aunt home, and your grandfather said they got there at about two–twenty and stayed out in Caleb's car for about twenty minutes before he turned on the outside light to let them know it was time for Edna to come inside."
I remembered Paw doing the same thing with me.
"For the rest of the story," Chief Norton said, "all we have is Caleb's word to go on. He said that he was on his way home when he realized that he didn't have his baseball cap. He figured he must have left it at Fannie's Place, so he turned around to go after it."
Chief Norton shook his head. "I asked him why he didn't just wait until the next day, and he said that he wished he had. It's just that he was a bit drunk and so happy about winning the championship that he didn't want to take a chance of losing that hat.
"Anyway, he said he got back to Fannie's at around three in the morning. He figured Fannie would still be up cleaning, and sure enough, the front door was unlocked. When he got inside, he saw that the place was a wreck, with the tables moved and everything pulled off of the shelves behind the bar. Then he saw Fannie lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. He said he tried to revive her, but she was already gone. Supposedly that's why he had blood all over him when Fannie's boy Tim came in and saw them. Tim took one look and went running for help. He brought back his uncle Eb and Eb's wife, and they held the shotgun on Caleb while they waited for me to get there."
"It sounds pretty circumstantial to me," I said.
"It was circumstantial, all right, but the circumstances all fit the theory. Everybody in town knew that Caleb was saving up money to buy himself a house before he proposed to Edna, and everybody knew that Fannie was supposed to have a bunch of money stashed somewhere in the bar. The idea was that Caleb came back to look for it, and when Fannie caught him and threatened to call the police, he lost control and hit her. It looked like an accident to me. He pushed her or maybe punched her, and she fell and struck her head on the corner of the bar. He'd probably have gotten a light sentence if he had plea bargained."
"But he didn't."
Chief Norton shook his head. "He denied it to the bitter end. Enough of the jurors believed him that he was found not guilty."
"What do you think?"
Chief Norton didn't answer right off, just reached for another cookie and took his time eating it. "I always liked Caleb Wilkins, but he had been drinking that night. And he was in an awful hurry to marry Edna. I didn't want to believe that he was guilty, and when the court said he wasn't, I was willing to treat him that way."
I could tell that there was more to it. "But...?"
"Laurie Anne, there's nothing I can grab onto, but it just seemed to me that Caleb wasn't telling the whole story. At first I believed him, but after a while I got the feeling that he was holding something back." He shook his head regretfully. "I tried to get him to tell me what it was, but he just kept saying that he had told me everything he was going to."
"You don't have any idea of what he wasn't telling you?"
"I can't even be sure that there was anything, but I had this feeling."
Chief Norton's "feelings" were legendary in Byerly, so I took him seriously.
"That's all I've got," he said.
I asked, "Did you check on the other people who were at the party that night?"
"Of course I did."
"And?"
"A few of them had alibis, but most of them didn't. Pretty much everybody said they had gone home to bed. Either their wives and husbands verified it, which didn't mean a whole lot, or they went home alone."
"So somebody else who was at the party could have done it. Or somebody completely different."
"There weren't any strangers seen, and only people in town would have known about the money." He shrugged. "Now you know about as much as I do. What do you think?"
"I'm just not sure," I said honestly. I wanted to believe Aunt Edna and Aunt Nora, but the evidence was awfully compelling. Even so, Chief Norton hadn't been convinced Wilkins was guilty, despite the evidence, so maybe I shouldn't be either. "I guess that when we find Wilkins," I said, looking at Richard for confirmation, "we'll make up our minds then."
Richard nodded, and added, "If we can find him, that is."
"Finding him is no problem," Chief Norton said with a grin. "He owns a grocery store in Greensboro."
"How did you know that?" I said.
"I keep in touch with the police over there, have been ever since Caleb left Byerly."
"Why?" I asked.
"Fannie's money. We don't know that he found it because it wasn't on him, but we never found it anywhere else. I just wanted to see if he suddenly started spending more than he should have."
Richard said, "But he had already been tried once. You couldn't have arrested him again."
"Probably not," Chief Norton agreed. "Of course we only tried him for the murder, so we might could have tried him for the robbery if he started spending Fannie's money. At least, that's what I told the police in Greensboro. That wasn't the real reason. I just wanted to know. There were a couple of other murders while I was police chief that weren't officially closed, but I had a pretty good idea of who committed them. I never was sure of what happened to Fannie, and it kind of stuck in my craw. It still does, even after all these years." He drank the last of his coffee and said, "If y'all will wait for a minute, I'll go find Caleb's address for you."
Mrs. Norton and Junior's sisters arrived just as Chief Norton gave us the address, and after a few minutes of chatting, Richard and I took it as an excuse to leave. The last thing we heard on our way out the door was Mrs. Norton fussing at Chief Norton. "You made them eat broken cookies with all these nice ones fixed? What on earth were you thinking of?"
It was too late in the day to drive to Greensboro, so Richard and I headed back to Aunt Nora's for dinner. She wasn't really expecting us, but she knew we were in town and that meant that she'd cook about twice as much food as usual, just in case we showed up. I wasn't about to let any of her good cooking go to waste, especially not her biscuits.
This time I didn't mention Caleb Wilkins. Aunt Nora isn't the best woman in Byerly to keep a secret, and I wanted to be sure that Wilkins was worth bringing home before the word got out.
Instead we talked about the family: whether I knew that Sue was pregnant again and how Arthur was doing as city councilor and did I think that Ilene was serious about her new boyfriend. After all, that's why I come home for Christmas.
* * *
The next morning, Richard and I got up bright and early to make the two–hour drive to Greensboro. Since Wilkins owned a grocery store, our plan was to go to the store and see if we could spot him there. If we didn't get a chance to talk to him at the store, we'd go to his home address.
We got to Greensboro at around eleven and after consulting a map, found the store pretty quickly. It was a small place, but the number of cars in the parking lot showed that Wilkins had his share of customers.
I pulled out a shopping cart as we walked in the door.
"What's that for?" Richard asked.
"We can't just browse in a grocery store," I said. "It would look funny." We glanced around, but didn't see anybody old enough to be Caleb Wilkins, so we started slowly going down the aisles.
The shopping cart really had just been for camouflage, but I did find a few things to put inside.
"Pork rinds?" Richard asked, with a look of distaste.
"I like them," I said. And the country ham would keep for us to carry back to Boston, and you can't get Cheerwine, my favorite cherry soda, anywhere but in North Carolina. Fortunately, before I could fill the cart, we saw an older man with a name tag on that said, "Mr. Wilkins."
"There he is," I whispered.
"Looks decent enough."
Not like a murderer, Richard meant. I know you can't tell a book by its cover, but I certainly wouldn't have picked out the round–faced man with salt–and–pepper hair as anybody sinister.
I suddenly realized that this whole trip might be a waste of time if he were already married. Just because Aunt Edna was lonely didn't mean that he was. I took a closer look, and was relieved to see that there was no wedding band on his finger.
We were trying to be surreptitious, but I guess he could tell that we were watching him, because after approving a check for one of the cashiers, he came over to Richard and me.
"Can I help y'all with something?" he asked with a smile.
I said, "Mr. Wilkins? Mr. Caleb Wilkins?"
"Yes."
"From Byerly?"
The smile seemed to freeze. "I used to live there, yes."
"Mr. Wilkins, my name is Laura Fleming, and I'm from Byerly. This is my husband Richard."
There was a pause as we all tried to decide whether or not handshakes were appropriate. Good manners won out, and we briefly clasped.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Fleming?"
"My aunt is Edna Randolph." Then I corrected myself. "Edna Burnette Randolph."
He nodded and looked a little more at ease. "The Christmas card I sent."
"Yes, sir. Do you think we could talk for a few minutes?"
He glanced around the store. "I think I could leave for a little while, and my house is just around the corner. Why don't we go there?"
We agreed, though I did wonder if going to a suspected murderer's house was a good idea. He spoke to his assistant while Richard and I paid for our groceries and loaded them into the car. Then we all walked to Wilkins's house. None of us spoke along the way.
Wilkins had a nice house, and I realized it was oddly similar to Aunt Edna's. It was just as neat, just as well–tended, just as empty. He let us into the living room, offered us a drink, and when we declined, gestured us toward the couch and sat opposite us in a wing chair.
Wilkins said, "I thought that it might be a mistake to send Edna that card. It's just that I was thinking of her and I wanted her to know. Is she doing all right?"
"She's fine."
"And the rest of your family?"
"Just fine."
"I remember that Edna's sister Alice had a little girl named Laurie Anne. Is that you?"
"Yes, sir." Then I added, "My mother passed away many years ago."
"I knew about that. I did try to keep up with things in Byerly for a while, but I haven’t heard anything in a long time." He thought for a minute. "How's Edna's family? I know that she married Loman Randolph. They just had the one son, didn't they?"
I nodded. "Linwood. He's married himself now, with three children and another on the way."
"Is that right? I can't imagine Edna as a grandmother. She and Loman must be very proud."
"Actually, Loman has been dead for about a year and a half."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know."
I asked, "How about you? Did you ever get married?" It was probably rude to ask, but I had to be sure. I was pretty sure he hadn't, both because there was no ring on his finger and because the house didn't show any signs of a woman.
He shook his head slowly. "No, I never did." Wilkins went on to ask a few more questions about people in Byerly, and I answered them as best I could. Finally he asked, "Did Edna have a message for me or anything?"
"Not exactly," I said, feeling awkward. "Mr. Wilkins, we'd like you to come back to Byerly."
"Did Edna send you?"
"Not exactly," I said again, which was a polite way of saying not at all. "I thought that seeing you would be a nice surprise for her, sort of a Christmas present."
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. I couldn't even guess at what he was thinking. Then he opened his eyes again and said, "I don't think that would be possible."
"I know about Fannie Topper, Mr. Wilkins," I said, "but it's been over twenty years. And you were acquitted."
"Edna must have told you how people in Byerly acted. I don't think that they've forgotten."
"But if you were innocent..?"
He smiled sadly. "That's what I mean. You're Edna's niece, and you're not even sure, are you? That's why I can't go back to Byerly. I've made a life for myself, and I'm happy enough. Nobody here knows anything about my past, so I don't have to worry about people whispering behind my back."
This wasn't what I had expected. I had thought that he'd want to renew his lost romance, that he'd jump at the chance to come home. I briefly considered bringing Aunt Edna to him, but then I thought about how angry she had been when he left. After all of that, I just knew she wouldn't come to him. The Burnettes have a lot of pride, and a lot of stubbornness. I know, because I'm as stubborn as a mule myself, which was why I wasn't ready to give up.
I said, "What if the real murderer was found? Would you come back then?"
"I don't think that's very likely."
"But if he was?"
He looked at me funny, but he said, "I suppose I might."
I looked at Richard, and he nodded slightly. "My husband and I have had some success in investigations before, and we've been looking into the case."
"Are you two private detectives, something like that?"
"We've worked with the police in the past, both in an official and unofficial capacity." Richard's face showed the strain, but he didn't say anything. Before Wilkins could press for any more details, I said, "Do you think you could answer some questions for us?"
He agreed, and I asked him what had happened that night. What he said didn't add anything to what Chief Norton had told us, other than a list of the other men on the championship ball team. Richard dutifully jotted the names on a pad he produced from his pocket.
After Wilkins had gone through the story, he said, "That's pretty much what I told Chief Norton all those years ago, and it didn't help him."
As delicately as I could, I said, "Chief Norton said he always thought you were holding something back. Is that true?"
He didn't answer for a long time, and I wondered if he was about to throw Richard and me out. Finally he said, "There was something, but it probably doesn't mean anything."
I just sat and waited, hoping that he'd go on.
"I never told anybody, not even Edna," he said slowly. Then he took a deep breath, and I guess he had convinced himself. "You know that when I went back to Fannie's Place, I was looking for my ball cap."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, that hat was the first thing I saw when I came in. It was lying on the floor next to Fannie's body. With blood on it. Chief Norton took it as evidence."
I nodded.
"A week or so later, after they let me out on bail, I dropped my keys onto the floor of my car and I had to reach up under the seat to get them. I found my hat under there."
I cocked my head. "If your hat was under there, then whose hat was it at Fannie's?"
"I don't know."
"So it must have been left by one of the other players." I didn't see why this was important.
"You don't understand. That hat wasn't there when I left the bar after the party. Edna and I stayed to help Fannie clean up, even swept up for her, and I know it wasn't there when we left."
"And the team members were the only ones with hats like that," I said, starting to get more interested.
Wilkins nodded.
"Couldn't somebody else have had one?" Richard asked.
"There weren't any more. Big Bill Walters would only pay for enough for the team members. If he had had his way, he'd have only had enough made for the fellows on the field at one time and made us trade back and forth. We talked him out of that idea, but you can be darned sure that he didn't get any extras."
"So what you're saying is that one of the other team members killed Fannie," I said.
"I'm not saying anything of the kind. All I'm saying is that the hat on the floor at Fannie's Place wasn't mine."
"Why didn't you tell Chief Norton? Maybe he could have found out who it was that was missing his hat."
Wilkins shrugged, and wouldn't quite meet my eyes.
"Was it loyalty? Did you think that it would be a bad thing to turn in a team member?"
He shrugged again.
"How could you be loyal to a murderer? The murderer didn't care anything about you. You could have been sent to prison."
"But I wasn't. If one of them killed Fannie, I know that he'd have come forward if I had been found guilty."
"He let you get chased out of Byerly without speaking up."
Wilkins was shaking his head. "You don't understand how it was. Every one of the fellows came to see me in jail. They raised the money for my bail, and they paid for my lawyer, too. How could I go to Chief Norton and tell him that one of those men was a killer? It would have looked like I was trying to save myself by dragging them down."
"Of course you realize that one of those men only helped out because he felt guilty," I pointed out.
"But the others did it because they were my friends," he shot back. "Chief Norton would have questioned all of them, stuck his nose into all kinds of places where it didn't belong."
I suppose I should have left it alone, but I just couldn't. "So you let a murderer go free?"
"I don't think it was murder. Even Chief Norton said it looked like whoever it was didn't mean to kill Fannie."
"What about Tim Topper? Don't you think he deserves to know what really happened to his mother?"
Wilkins looked down. "I felt bad about Tim, I really did. He was a good boy. But I couldn't bring his mama back no matter what I did."
"What about afterward, when the people in Byerly treated you so badly? Why didn’t you tell Chief Norton about the hat then?"
"I thought about it, but that's all I did. I felt like I had made my decision and I'd have to live with it."
"What about Aunt Edna?"
Again he wouldn't meet my eyes. "In a way, Edna is the reason I had to leave Byerly. I could have stood it if it had just been me people were talking about. But I couldn't put Edna through that. She deserved better."
What I thought was that what Aunt Edna deserved was a chance to make her own choices, not have them made for her. I wanted to tell him that, too, but he looked so sad that I just couldn't. "Aunt Edna still cares for you," I said softly.
"I care for her, too."
Richard touched my shoulder then to tell me that it was time to go.
* * *
I had to make myself drive slowly on the way back to Byerly because I was so mad that I wanted to drive like a Boston cabbie. "Can you believe that man?" I demanded of Richard. "If Wilkins had told Chief Norton the truth all those years ago, the real murderer would have been found out instead of getting away with it, and Aunt Edna would have married him instead of Loman. She'd be happy now!"
"Don't you think you're laying an awful lot of blame on poor Caleb?" Richard said mildly.
"No, I don't," I said, but I didn't really believe it. I just couldn't stop thinking about how things might have been. "All right, I don't really blame Wilkins for everything that's happened, but I do think he should have told Aunt Edna what he was going to do. Aunt Nora said that she'd have gone with him."
"He didn't want to drag her down with him. He was trying to do the honorable thing."
"Honor!" I snorted.
"Since when is honor so distasteful? 'Mine honor is my life, both grow in one; take honor from me, and my life is done.' Richard II, Act I, scene 1."
"And they did take Richard's life away from him, didn't they?" Before he could respond, I said, "Do you remember Robert E. Lee?"
"The patron saint of the South?"
"Not to me! You know he was against secession? He was even asked to head up the Union army before he took over the Confederate forces. The only reason he fought for the South was his honor."
"This makes him a villain?"
"In a way it does. You know that the Confederacy never had much of a chance. They just didn't have the infrastructure they needed. The war should have been over almost before it started. But Lee was a genius. With him in charge, the war dragged on and on. How many people died for Lee's honor?"
"Aren't you simplifying it a bit?"
I ignored him. "Then there's Reconstruction. If the war hadn't lasted so long, the North wouldn't have been so hard on the South. Lincoln would have been alive well into the process and made sure of it."
"Unless Booth decided to attend an earlier show at Ford's Theater." I started to object, but Richard raised his hand. "All right, I'll concede that honor isn't always the best motive. But you can't play this kind of guessing game after the fact. Unless you're watching It's a Wonderful Life, that is." He looked at me suspiciously. "Which you watched last week, if I recall correctly."
I had to grin. "Actually, I watched it twice."
"Aha!"
As usual, Richard had dispersed my foul mood. "Well, since we don't have an angel to call upon to go back, we'll just have to go forward."
"Agreed, but first I want to remind you that I told you that this would happen."
"You don't mind, do you? Spending your Christmas vacation tracking down a murderer?" I could easily have added, "again."
"'At Christmas I no more desire a rose than wish a snow in May's new–fangled mirth; but like of each thing that in season grows.' Love's Labour's Lost, Act I, scene 1."
It took me a minute to worry the meaning out of the quote. "Are you implying that murder and trips to Byerly go hand in hand?" He opened his mouth to speak and I could tell that another quote was coming. "All right, you have a point."
"Then I think I'm entitled to one I–told–you–so."
I sighed. "I suppose you're right. Go ahead."
He shook his head. "No, I think I'll save it for later. When you're not expecting it."
"That's mean."
He grinned. "So now that you've bowed to the inevitable, what shall we do next?"
I thought for a minute. "How many men did Wilkins say were on the baseball team?"
He pulled out the list and counted. "'So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, found truth in all but one.' King Richard II, Act IV, scene 1."
"So we have twelve men to track down."
"Actually only eleven. Wilkins himself is one of the twelve, but the quote was so obvious that I had to use it."
"Of course," I said, though I couldn't imagine how it could have been that obvious. "Maybe we should talk to Chief Norton again and see if any of them had alibis. I'd hate having to do the groundwork again, especially after all this time. Eleven men are a lot. Although if they're still working at the mill, they should be pretty easy to find." So many members of my family worked at Walters Mill that it would just be a matter of picking one to ask for help. "As soon as we get back, we'll give Chief Norton a call."
* * *
We were nearly back to Byerly when I thought of something else. "Richard, are you hungry?"
"Planning to tackle some of those pig rinds."
"That's pork rinds. Or pork skins, if you prefer."
"I don't prefer either."
"Good. That leaves more for me. I wasn't suggesting them anyway. I was suggesting that we go to Pigwick's."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Pigwick's Barbeque. That's the name of Fannie Topper's old place. It might be helpful to scope the place out."
"It's still open?"
"Yes and no. They closed the bar after Fannie died, but her brother and sister–in–law kept the barbeque part going, just for take–out. Fannie's son Tim took over after a while, and I guess it was doing well enough that he decided to try it as a restaurant. So he opened Pigwick's a few years ago."
"Do I dare ask about the name?"
"From Dickens, of course."
"Of course."
"The napkins even have 'Pigwick Papers' printed on them."
"Of course." Richard was quiet for the rest of the drive, and I had a feeling that he was just glad that nobody had decided to honor Shakespeare in the way that Tim Topper had honored Charles Dickens.
It was mid–afternoon when we pulled into the parking lot at Pigwick's, which explained why there weren't many other cars there.
"Have you eaten here before?" Richard asked as we walked to the door.
"I've eaten their food before, but only take–out."
He raised one eyebrow. "Afraid of the ghost?"
"Not hardly. At least four Burnettes have died in Aunt Maggie's house, and you know that never bothered me." The reason was a different specter, one that still haunted Byerly. Marley was the "black" part of town. Getting food to take home was one thing, but actually going there to eat was something else. I felt a rush of liberal smugness that I was going inside, admittedly tempered by knowing how long it had taken to get me there.
The only other customers were a party of three men and a woman, all dressed in business suits. A big man with dark hair and caramel–colored skin was at the register by the door, and I recognized him as Tim Topper.
"Two for dinner?" he asked, picking up two menus.
"Yes, please," I said.
"We must be early," Richard said as Tim took us to a table.
"Just a bit," Tim said. "I expect the place will be filling up later." He handed me my menu, started to give Richard his, and then looked back at me. "Do I know you?"
"I think we've met once or twice. I'm Laura Fleming."
He shook his head, not recognizing the name.
"Laurie Anne Burnette," I said in resignation.
"That's right, now I remember. We talked at your cousin's victory party when he was elected to the town council."
I nodded. "This is my husband, Richard."
They shook hands and Richard said, "I take it you're an admirer of Dickens."
Tim grinned and shook his head. "No, that was my mama. She used to read me stories from Dickens when I was little, and the names were so funny that I used to get them mixed up. I could have sworn that she was saying Pigwick, and I thought that it would be a good name for a barbeque house." He took our orders, managing to talk us into getting large plates of pulled pork barbeque instead of the small ones we originally asked for.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Richard asked, "Aren't you going to ask about his mother's murder?"
I wrinkled my nose. "I don't think so. He was only ten when it happened, and I'm sure that Chief Norton must have questioned him pretty thoroughly. Besides, I can't just ask him about something like that out of the blue."
"You're not going to tell him that we're looking for the murderer?"
"If we find him, we can tell Tim then. I don't want to go dredging up memories like that, especially not at Christmas. It must have been awful for him, finding his mother dead like that."
"And this is where it happened?" Richard said, looking around the room.
I nodded, reminding myself that I didn't believe in ghosts. "Of course it probably looked a lot different." From what Chief Norton had said about Fannie's Place, I don't think it would have had big picture windows and gingham curtains and tablecloths. The floor would probably have been wood or tile, not carpet. The fireplace looked old enough to be original, but there was no sign of where the bar had been.
"And they never found Fannie's money?"
I shook my head. "Every once in a while, some of the kids would plan to sneak over here at night to search for it, but I don't think anybody ever did. Either afraid of the ghost or afraid of Tim's Uncle Eb. They just talked about how great it would be to find the money. Hidden treasure holds a certain appeal, doesn't it?" I looked at him, and from the gleam in his eye, I could tell that it certainly held a lot of appeal for him. "Richard, don't tell me that you want to look for the money."
"Just speculating."
"A lot of people have looked for that money over the years."
"True," he said.
"Of course," I added, "none of them were as brilliant as you are."
Richard grinned. "Is that so?"
We were turning around in our chairs to look for likely hiding places when Tim came back with our order. "Don't tell me that you're looking for my mama's money?" he said.
I didn't know what to say. It did seem pretty tacky. "I'm sorry––we didn't mean to be rude."
He held up one hand. "Hey, don't apologize. If you can come up with a place I haven't already looked, I want to hear about it."
Richard said, "If you don't mind my asking, why did your mother keep her money here? Why not in a bank?"
"For one, we didn't have a car so getting to the bank would have been a problem. For another, Big Bill Walters was still running the bank then and Mama just didn't trust him."
I could believe that. I didn't think that Big Bill was actively dishonest, but he was smart enough to think up ways that he could be honest and still get his hands on other people's money.
"She never told anybody where the money was?" I asked.
Tim just shook his head again, like he had been asked the same questions many times before. "You've got to remember, I was only a kid then. If I had known where it was, I'd have been into it every time I wanted a new toy."
"What about the people who worked for her?"
"There wasn't nobody but her, my Uncle Eb, and Aunt Fezzy. She wouldn't tell Uncle Eb because he'd been known to drink more than he should, and she wouldn't tell Aunt Fezzy because she might have told Uncle Eb. I know it sounds funny now, but things were different then. Mama was alone, and she had to think about the future. She had her heart set on my going to college, so she wanted to be sure that the money would be there for me."
For a minute he looked over toward the center of the room, and I hoped he was remembering his mother in life, not in death.
"I'm sorry," I said again. "We are being rude."
"Don't you worry about that. I imagine a lot of people have come in here because of curiosity. Maybe I should have called the place The Curiosity Shop." He grinned, and left us to our meal.
"I wish he wasn't so nice," I said to Richard. "I feel like such a heel."
"He said he didn't mind. And don't forget that we're doing this to find the person who killed his mother."
I nodded in agreement, but I still felt like a heel. Tim must think that we were like those people who slow down on the highway when passing a wreck. My parents had died in a car accident, and I had always hated the idea of people staring at them.
I didn't much feel like eating, but I took a bite of the barbeque anyway. And another. And another. "You know," I said to Richard, "people might come here because of curiosity, but they come back for the food."
As Tim had predicted, the restaurant started to fill up soon after that, so we didn't have a chance to talk to him further other than to compliment the barbecue on our way out.
* * *
When we got back to Aunt Maggie's house, I headed straight for the telephone.
"Hello?" Chief Norton said.
"Hi, this is Laura Fleming."
"I was hoping that you'd call. Did you go see Caleb Wilkins?"
"Yes, sir. We sure did."
"Did you find anything out?"
"As a matter of fact, he told us what it was that he wouldn't tell you."
"Is that so? Well don't leave me hanging."
I explained about the baseball hat, and why Wilkins had never told him.
"Well I'll be darned. It never occurred to me that it wasn't his hat. I appreciate his loyalty to the other fellows, but it sure would have helped if he had told me the truth."
"I know. You don't happen to remember if any of the other ball players were missing alibis, do you?"
"It just so happens I dug up my files after we talked yesterday. I had a hunch that I'd want them. Have you got a pencil?"
I made gestures at Richard, and he handed me a pad and pen. "Go ahead."
While I waited, Chief Norton looked up each of the other eleven members of the team to check their alibis. As it turned out, two of them had ended up at a different party, five had gone to work the late shift at the mill, and one was seen to arrive at his home by a nosy neighbor.
"That leaves three," I said. "Joe Bowley, Pete Fredericks, and Bobby Plummer."
"That's what it sounds like to me, too," Chief Norton said. "None of them have ever been in any serious trouble, but then again, neither had Caleb Wilkins."
"They shouldn't be hard to track down."
"I expect not, but you do realize that by rights we should hand this new evidence over to Junior and let her deal with it."
"That's true." I should have been glad to let Junior take over. As long as it was solved, did it really matter who did the solving? But like I said, the Burnettes are stubborn. I was bound and determined to do this for Aunt Edna. Besides, Caleb Wilkins had trusted me. I wanted to finish it myself.
"Of course," Chief Norton said, "Junior's awfully busy this time of year. I hear that she's had a lot of trouble with shoplifting."
"Really?"
"This being such an old case, she probably wouldn't have a chance to get to it for a while. Until after Christmas, at least. And she hates it when I stick my nose in, so I can't do a thing."
"You're not suggesting that I withhold evidence, are you?" I said in mock surprise.
"Of course not," he said, in equally mock reaction. "In fact, you can let me tell Junior, just as soon as I get a chance. You and your husband go ahead and do whatever you usually do on vacation. Now if you should happen to hear anything interesting, you be sure and let me know."
"I certainly will."
"Well?" Richard asked when I hung up.
"He's going to let us take a crack at it," I said. "If we can't figure it out by Christmas, Junior can take over."
"That gives us what? Three days?"
"Three days, and three suspects."
"But no motive other than this cache of money." Richard thought for a minute. "Laura, who was Tim's father?"
"I don't think Fannie was married, but if she was, he wasn't around anymore. Why?"
"It occurred to me that Tim has fairly light skin."
"Are you thinking that his father was white?"
"It's a possibility, isn't it?"
"I suppose, but I don't know how dark Fannie was."
"Wouldn't that have been a terrible thing to have happen in North Carolina? Didn’t people around here look down on mixed relationships?"
"Mixed relationships were looked down on in most parts of the country!"
"Sorry. You're right."
I nodded, somewhat mollified.
Richard said, "The point I was trying to make was that Fannie might have threatened to make the father's identity public."
"Blackmail? I don't think she'd do that. Chief Norton seemed to think a lot of Fannie, and he's an awfully good judge of character."
"But she did want to send Tim to college. Maybe she asked the father for money, and he refused. She could have gotten mad and made the threat, or maybe he misconstrued what she said as a threat. Remember, Chief Norton didn't think the murder was premeditated."
"True. I suppose that one of our three suspects could be Tim's father." Then I thought of a complication. "So why the search for Fannie's money?"
"Maybe he wanted it to look like a robbery. Or even better, maybe Fannie had some proof that he was the father, and he was looking for that."
"It's possible," I admitted. "I was planning to talk to Aunt Nora to get some background on our three suspects, so I could ask her about that, too."
"You mean you don't already know all of the suspects? Angels and ministers of grace defend us!"
"Cut that out! I don't know everybody in Byerly." I looked questioningly at him. "MacBeth?"
"Hamlet. Act I, scene 4."
"I was close." Before he could argue the point, I said, "Shall we go talk to Aunt Nora?"
"We could, but if we go over there now, she's going to try to feed us and I'm still stuffed from the barbeque."
"Me, too." I checked the clock. "They've probably already eaten, but I'll use the phone this time. Just in case she's got leftovers."
After a few minutes of preliminaries, including my fending off an offer of Uncle Buddy coming by to deliver food, I said, "Aunt Nora, I need to pick your brain."
"Still trying to come up with a gift for Edna?"
I avoided answering directly by saying, "Richard and I went to Pigwick's Barbeque today, and we were wondering about Tim Topper. Who was his father?"
There was a long pause. "Does this have something to do with Caleb Wilkins?"
So much for my surprise. "Yes, ma'am." I explained what Richard and I were trying to do. "Do you think it's a good idea?"
"Laurie Anne, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard of." Darned if she didn't start sniffing.
"Well, I don't know if it's going to work yet," I said, feeling embarrassed.
"I know you'll do it, Laurie Anne. I just know it. Now what was it you wanted to know?"
"Tim Topper's father?" I prompted her.
"I'm sorry, Laurie Anne, but I don't have any idea."
I was surprised. "There must have been talk at the time. I mean, her not being married and all."
"Of course there was, but she never would say. I hear that when the doctor asked her what to put on the birth certificate, Fannie just said, 'His daddy doesn't want him, and I do, so you can put me down as mama and daddy, because that's how it's going to be.'"
"Does Tim look like any of the fellows she dated?"
"Not to speak of. Now she spent some time with her aunt in Saw Mills the summer she got into the family way, so it might not even have been anybody from Byerly."
I wasn't sure if the next question would shock Aunt Nora or not, but I had to ask. "Were there any rumors about Tim's father being white?"
"I thought that's what you were getting at. Of course people wondered, on account of his coloring. She was right much darker. Of course, that happens sometimes. Anyway, is there anything else I can help you with?"
"There are three men I need to talk to: Pete Fredericks, Joe Bowley, and Bobby Plummer. Do you know them?"
"Just to speak to. Do you think that one of them killed Fannie?"
"Maybe." I explained why. "Do they all still work at the mill?"
"I believe so."
"Then maybe I could go talk to them up there. Do you think Thaddeous could get me in?" Uncle Buddy and Willis worked at the mill, too, but as quiet as Uncle Buddy was, he wouldn't be nearly as good at introducing me to the men, and Willis worked the night shift.
"I imagine he could. I'll ask." She moved her mouth from the phone, but I could still hear her as she called, "Thaddeous! Laurie Anne needs to do some detective work at the mill." I cringed. "Never you mind what it's about. Can you get her in to see some men?" She named them, and he said something I couldn't quite make out. "I didn't think of that. Let me check." She came back to the phone. "Laurie Anne? The mill's Christmas party is tomorrow night and Thaddeous says you can go with him. That way he can introduce you."
"Doesn't Thaddeous have a date?"
There was a small sigh. "I'm afraid not."
"Then I'd love to go."
After that, I asked her for background on the three men, and had to write like crazy for nearly half an hour to keep up with her. And this for men she said she barely knew.
She finally stopped to take a breath. "That's all I know."
"That's plenty," I said. The F.B.I. should have such detail.
We talked a bit longer after that, mostly about what I should wear to the party. Once I hung up, I explained the arrangements to Richard. "When I talk to them, I'll be looking for a family resemblance."
"Which you will no doubt be able to spot instantly."
"You're just jealous because I can see these things and you can't."
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"So tell me––do you think Rudolph looks more like Donner or Mrs. Donner?"
After that, I had no choice but to chase him through the house with a sofa pillow.
* * *
Thaddeous picked me up at seven o'clock the next evening, and after Richard kissed me and told Thaddeous not to keep me out too late, we headed for the party. It felt odd to get kissed before a date instead of after.
"You look real nice, Laurie Anne," Thaddeous said as he handed me into his pickup truck.
"Thank you," I said, smoothing down the skirt of my deep red velvet dress. "You look pretty sharp, too." It was a shame he didn't have a real date. Poor Thaddeous was tall and nice–looking, and like his mama, he always had a smile on his face. Despite that, he had the worst luck with women of any man I had ever met.
We pulled out of the driveway and Thaddeous asked, "What's Richard going to do with himself tonight?"
"He thought he'd go over to the mall in Hickory and do some last–minute shopping."
"He's a brave fellow. That place is a madhouse this time of year." There was a short pause. "Mama told me what you and Richard are up to. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Just taking me to the party is a big help."
"I know you want to talk to those men, so I figured I'd point them out to you and maybe introduce you to them. Then I'll leave you alone so you can see what you can find out."
"That's perfect."
"Now I don't want to see you going out into any dark corners with them. If one of them did what you think he did, you don't have any business being alone with him. And if you get into any trouble, you holler. Mama and Daddy are going to be at the party, too, and so is Willis. So somebody is going to be watching you the whole time."
I suppose it wasn't very liberated, but they meant well, and Thaddeous's advice was good. "I'll be careful."
The party was being held in the Byerly High School gym, because there really wasn't anyplace else in Byerly big enough, but the decorations committee had outdone themselves in making it look nice. It was still early, so after Thaddeous and I checked our coats, we headed for the refreshments table. It wasn't long before Thaddeous said, "There's Joe Bowley now. Are you ready?"
"You bet." While we waited for Joe to fill his plate, I remembered what Aunt Nora had told me about him.
"Joe is Burt Walters's second–in–command, thanks to Joe's daddy," she had said. "Don't get me wrong––Joe's a right smart fellow, and he'd probably have that job even if his daddy wasn't Big Bill Walters's best friend. The Bowleys had some money, though not nearly as much as the Walters, and Joe's daddy made sure Joe went to the same college as Burt. Joe always was a good community man, but since his wife died, he's really thrown himself into charity work."
Joe turned out to be balding and plump, and shook my hand enthusiastically when Thaddeous introduced us. When my cousin then came up with an excuse to leave us alone, Joe seemed perfectly happy to keep me company.
"Now you live in Boston, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Now don't you 'sir' me," he said, wagging his finger. "You'll make me feel old. Call me Joe. Everybody does."
"All right, Joe." I took a bite of baked ham while trying to figure out how I could move the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go. "They certainly laid out a nice spread."
"I bet you don't get good cooking like this up North."
"That's the truth." That gave me an idea. "It's the barbeque I really miss. There's a couple of places that sell barbeque, but it's more Texas–style than North Carolina–style."
"That's one reason I could never live up there. I don't know what I'd do without good barbeque and hush puppies."
"I just try to get as much as I can when I'm home." Now for the subtle part. "I ate over at Pigwick's the other day. Tim Topper's place." I watched him closely for a reaction.
"They fix some good barbeque," Joe admitted without blinking, "but I think I like Fork–in–the–Road a mite better."
I suppose I shouldn't have expected him to turn pale at the mention of Tim Topper, because surely he had heard him named any number of times in the past twenty–five years. I tried something a bit more direct. "My Aunt Nora says that the barbeque there was better when Fannie Topper was cooking it. She said Fannie had a real knack for it."
Maybe he winced a little at that, but really no more than anybody would when reminded of an old murder. Then he launched into a list of recommendations for other barbeque houses across North Carolina, from Bubba's Barbeque in Charlotte to Buck Overton's in Mt. Airy to the Barbeque Lodge in Raleigh.
I guess he could tell that I was losing interest, because he finally said, "I guess you can tell that I enjoy my food." He patted his stomach with a grin. "You'd never know that I was the star player of my baseball team in high school."
"Oh, it still shows," I lied politely.
"My daddy thought it was important to play sports. Teamwork and all that. He always said, 'Even if you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter.'"
It was an ancient joke, but I joined in when he chuckled.
Then I asked, "Didn't I hear you played for the mill, too? On the championship team?"
He puffed his chest out a bit. "One of the proudest moments of my life, winning that game. Nothing like playing sports to make friends. I still keep in touch with all those men." Then he looked down at his plate. "Well, most of them."
I knew he was talking about Caleb Wilkins, but then he said that after talking so much about good food, he had to go refill his plate.
Thaddeous came up to me once Joe was gone. "How's it going?"
"Not much yet." I looked around, and saw that the place had pretty much filled up. "Have you seen either of the other two?"
"I just saw Bobby Plummer over by the dance floor. Come on."
When Aunt Nora told me that Bobby Plummer was said to have lace on his underwear, I had to stifle giggles. I hadn't heard that particular euphemism for being gay in years. She had gone on to say, "He was married for a year or so, but after the divorce, he moved back in with his mama. Now that she's gone, he lives by himself. He goes down to Charlotte a lot on the weekends, and somebody I know swears he saw him in one of those gay bars, dressed in leather pants." Damning evidence to be sure, but I had to wonder what Aunt Nora's friend had been doing at that bar.
Bobby was one of the better–dressed men at the party, both because of the quality of his suit and because of the style with which he wore it. Unlike Joe, he had a full head of dark hair, and a trim build. Once again Thaddeous introduced me, and then remembered that he was needed elsewhere.
We chatted, but I couldn't help noticing that Bobby was tapping his feet to the music.
"They're playing good stuff," I said, intending to somehow lead this to the celebration party at Fannie's.
But then Bobby asked, "Would you like to dance?"
I said, "I'd love to," but added the warning, "I'm not very good."
He smiled and said, "I'm sure you're wonderful."
Soon enough, he learned that I hadn't been exaggerating, but he was good enough to make me look competent. Unfortunately, I had never been one of those people who could carry on a conversation while dancing, and from the way Bobby was going, he'd have been happy to keep dancing all night long.
Finally I said, "I think I need to catch my breath."
"Of course." He led me to a table. "Can I get you a drink?"
"That would be very nice," I said. It would also give me a chance to come up with an approach. By the time Bobby returned with two glasses of punch, I was ready for him.
"I think I've been a desk jockey too long," I said. "I just don't have your stamina. You must be active in sports."
"Sometimes," he said. "I prefer working out on my own. I have a NordicTrack in my basement."
"I thought I heard something about your playing baseball. I was talking to one of your teammates earlier. Joe Bowley."
"That was years ago," he said. "The year we won was the last time that any of us played for the mill."
"Really? Why is that?"
"You're too young to remember, but it was after our victory party that Fannie Topper was killed, and one of the team members was arrested for the murder. A fellow named Caleb Wilkins."
"Oh?" I said, hoping I sounded interested enough to make him keep talking, but not so interested as to make him suspicious.
"Big Bill Walters fired Caleb right after he was arrested, saying that he couldn't keep a murder suspect on the payroll. We team members didn't think that was fair. After all, Caleb hadn't been convicted. We talked about quitting, but since we couldn't do that, we decided we'd at least quit the team. If Walters wouldn't stand by Caleb, we weren't going to play just so he could have a trophy."
"So you turned in your hats?" Maybe I could find out who hadn't returned his hat, the one who had lost it at Fannie's.
But Bobby's next words dashed that hope. "No, we burned them. We set a fire in a trash can on the parking lot during lunch and tossed in every single cap. Big Bill was furious, but there wasn't anything he could do. He couldn't fire all of us."
I had to grin, even if it had ruined my half–formed idea. Unless... "That's great. Whose idea was it to burn them?"
"Oh, I think we all agreed on it. It was the sixties, and the revolutionary spirit had struck, even in Byerly."
By now I had my breath back, and Bobby asked me to dance again. In other circumstances, I'd have been happy to, but I declined with thanks and went looking for Thaddeous.
Instead I found Aunt Nora. "Are you enjoying the party?" she asked in an obviously innocent tone of voice.
"I'm having a wonderful time.”
Then Aunt Nora lowered her voice. "Have you talked to them all?"
"Two out of three. I still need to track down Pete Fredericks."
"You come with me, and we'll find him." Aunt Nora wasn't as efficient a guide as Thaddeous was because she had to stop and say hello to just about everybody we saw, but eventually we made our way over to a tall, thin man with short, graying hair and dark eyes. He was standing alone near the edge of the room, smoking a cigarette.
"Hey there, Pete," Aunt Nora said. "Pete, do you know my niece, Laurie Anne? She lives up in Boston."
We made the obligatory small talk about how different Massachusetts was from North Carolina. Then Aunt Nora excused herself to go powder her nose, leaving me alone with Pete.
I try not to have any illusions about my feminine charm, but from what Aunt Nora had told me about Pete, I was halfway expecting him to make a pass at me once we were alone.
She had said, "Pete has an eye for the ladies. I think he's gone out with every woman in town, or at least with any of them that would. He wanted to date Edna once, but she wasn't about to put up with his roving. He had to get married about fifteen years ago, but Martha knew what she was getting into and she seems pretty happy. He's probably still running around, but at least he's careful."
I had to wonder if he had dated Fannie Topper, but I could not for the life of me come up with a way to gently broach that subject. The best opening gambit I could devise was, "What do you do at the mill, Pete?"
"Supervisor of dying right now, but I gave notice just this week."
"Is that so? Are you going to work for a different mill?"
"No, I'm going to work with my wife's uncle. Maybe you know him. Harry Giles."
"Over at Giles Funeral Home?"
"I like to say that I'm moving from dying, to dying." Darned if he didn't already have that solemn, restrained smile down pat.
I suppose I should have been able to easily move the conversation from death to a particular death, but I just couldn't do it. I even asked about how they made bodies presentable for open casket ceremonies, specifically when the deceased had died by violence, but the answer was far more graphic than I had wanted and left no room to ask about Fannie Topper.
Trying to change the subject, I mentioned playing baseball, and he told me about a grisly case when his uncle had a client who died from a blow to the head from a baseball. I don't even want to think about what he told me when I mentioned barbeque.
By the time Aunt Nora came to rescue me, I didn't know whether or not Pete was the murderer, but I was pretty sure that he wouldn't be fooling around on his wife any more. Not if that was his idea of pillow talk.
* * *
The party went on for hours, but I could have left right after talking to Pete Fredericks for all the good it did me. I hadn't learned anything useful. Still, I didn't want to make Thaddeous miss the celebration, so I stuck around and tried to have fun. I even danced with Bobby Plummer some more.
It was around one o'clock when Thaddeous and I finally headed for the parking lot.
"Sorry I wasn't much of a date for you, Thaddeous," I said.
"That's all right. Did you get what you were after?"
"Not really."
"Don't you worry. I know you'll puzzle it out."
I was glad somebody had confidence in me. At that point, I sure didn't.
We were all the way to Thaddeous's pickup before I saw the man leaning up against it.
"Richard!" I said. "What are you doing here?"
"Were you afraid I'd keep her out too late?" Thaddeous said with a grin.
"Just couldn't stand being away from her any longer," Richard said, and gave me a big hug.
Thaddeous snickered. "I suppose you're going to steal my date."
"You've got it."
I thanked Thaddeous again for his help, and got into the car with Richard while my cousin drove away.
"If you came to get me to find out what I learned, you wasted your trip," I said.
"That bad?"
"Just about." I told him everything I had learned from the three men, and concluded with, "I didn't get the first hint of a motive, unless Fannie was blackmailing Bobby Plummer because he's gay."
"Is he gay?"
"I don't even know that for sure."
"What about family resemblances? Could any of the three have been Tim's father?"
"He doesn't favor any of them. I had wondered if Pete could have been the sower of wild oats, but the way he is now, he'd be more interested in Fannie dead than alive." I threw my hands up. "It was a complete waste of time."
"Not complete. The part about the hats was significant. Burning them couldn't be coincidence. Now we're sure that the murderer was one of the team members."
"True," I said, "but we were pretty sure of that before."
Richard patted my leg comfortingly.
We drove a few minutes longer, and it dawned on me that we weren't headed for Aunt Maggie's house. "Richard, where are we going?"
"To Pigwick's."
"At this time of night? I imagine they're closed." Richard didn't answer. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing much," he said. "I just figured out where Fannie hid her money, that's all."
"You what? Where?"
He pulled a paperback book out of his jacket pocket. "The answer is in here."
I read the cover. "Oliver Twist?"
"Tim said that his mother loved Dickens, and I've read a little Dickens myself. Contrary to popular opinion, I do enjoy things other than Shakespeare. All that talk about Tim's father reminded me that Dickens used more than one case of disputed parentage or illegitimate birth. I thought I remembered something about a hiding place, too, so I went to the Waldenbooks at the mall and looked at Dickens books until I found what I was looking for."
I was impressed. Dickens wrote long books. "And?"
He handed me the book, and switched on the car's dome light. "I've got it marked."
There was a slip of paper sticking out near the end of the book, and when I opened it, I saw that Richard had circled a passage. "You wrote in a book?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures."
Clearly he thought this was important. I read the passage out loud. "'"The papers," said Fagin, drawing Oliver towards him, "are in a canvas bag, in a hole a little way up the chimney in the top front–room."' What papers?"
"The papers that proved who Oliver's parents were. And I remembered a fireplace at Pigwick's. Of course in Fannie's case, I'll bet the papers are green with numbers and presidential portraits on them."
"And maybe something that proves who Tim's father was?"
"That's what I'm hoping." He looked toward me, obviously expecting expressions of delight.
I didn't disappoint him. "Richard, you're brilliant!"
He tried to assume a modest expression. "Well, we should probably wait until we find out if I'm right or not." Still, he broke into a huge grin, like a cat who had just swallowed a particularly plump canary.
* * *
It was almost two in the morning, so we weren't surprised that Pigwick's was dark when we drove into the parking lot.
"Drive around back," I told Richard. "There must be a stairway up to Tim's place. I was right, and we climbed up to knock at the door. When that didn't work, we progressed to pounding with our fists.
Finally Tim opened the door, wearing a pair of jeans he must have just pulled on and rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"
"Sorry to wake you up, Tim, but we think that Richard's figured out where your mother's money is.
That woke him up. "Are you serious?"
"Richard, read him that piece from Oliver Twist."
Richard complied.
I asked, "Is it possible?"
"Well, we sure never looked in there," Tim said. "I know Mama had read Oliver Twist, but she was only halfway through reading it to me when she died. I never had the heart to finish it." He stepped back from the door. "Come on in, and we'll go look."
Stopping only to put on a sweatshirt and pull a flashlight out of a drawer, Tim lead us through his apartment, down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the dining room. He flipped on the lights and said, "I'll turn the heat up."
I guess it was cold in there, but I was too excited to notice. All I could do was stare at the brick fireplace that nearly filled one wall.
"Well," Tim said, "let's see what we can see."
All three of us started tugging on the bricks that made up the fireplace. We must have spent an hour, and I know that no brick escaped our attentions. Tim even pulled out a stepladder so he could get to the highest bricks.
"Did y'all find anything?" Tim finally asked.
I shook my head.
Richard pulled out Oliver Twist again and said, "The book says the money was on the inside of the chimney."
"Then let's try that." Tim got down on his hands and knees and hunted up inside, using the flashlight to light his way. Richard and I watched eagerly at first, but as the minutes passed, it was obvious that he wasn't finding anything. Finally he crawled back out. "Nothing!"
"Let me try," I said, reaching for the flashlight. I was both shorter and smaller around than Tim, so I could get a little further in. Not that it did me any good. All I found was soot. I knew I was ruining my coat and my dress, but I just didn't care. Finally Richard tugged on my foot, and I gave up and came away from the fireplace.
"I'm sorry, Tim," I said, feeling foolish. "We really thought this could be it. Here we got you out of bed and everything."
"No, that's all right. It sounded like a good idea to me, too. I don't really need the money anyway. Pigwick's is doing fine. I just thought if I could find it, maybe I could go to college part–time, and get that degree Mama wanted me to have."
Now I really felt awful for raising his hopes for nothing. "I'm sorry," I said again.
Tim looked at the clock. It was almost four. "I may as well stay up and get the meat ready to cook. I'm supposed to cater a lunch in Hickory today. Your car's in back isn't it? Come on out to the kitchen, and I'll let you out that way."
He didn't even wait for an answer before going into the kitchen.
Richard looked even more forlorn than Tim had. "It was a good idea," I said, and rubbed his back.
He said, "'The attempt and not the deed confounds us.' MacBeth, Act II, scene 2."
It was when I heard Tim rattling around in the kitchen that something rattled loose in my brain. I pulled at Richard's sleeve. "Hold on just one minute! You may have solved it after all!"
Tim had pulled out a big pan, and was opening the walk–in refrigerator. The kitchen was all stainless steel and tile. There was an oven, but it looked brand–new. Besides, it wasn't big enough to cook a whole hog in.
"Tim, you don't cook the barbeque in here, do you?"
"No, I've got a stone oven out in a shed. Mama said she had to put it out there or it would have been too hot in here in the summer."
"So it's the same one that your mother used?"
"Of course." Then he caught onto what I was talking about. "You don't suppose...?"
"Where's the shed?" Richard asked.
Again Tim led the way as we went outside, cut across the parking lot, and into a wooden shed that held a few shelves and a huge oven. I looked up at the stone chimney rising up from the oven, and saw Richard and Tim doing the same.
I asked, "Is it possible?"
Tim said, "The only thing is that we keep it going most of the time." Even at this hour, I could feel low heat rising from the oven. "I don't see how Mama could have put anything inside without burning herself."
I said, "What about on the outside?"
Richard went to one side and Tim to the other, and started pushing on the stones at eye level. After a few minutes, they shook their heads.
"Maybe it just needs to be pulled harder," Richard said. "It's been a long time."
"Maybe," Tim said doubtfully.
I said, "Tim, how tall was your mama?"
"About your height, maybe an inch or two shorter." He smiled, catching on. "We were looking too high up."
This time I squeezed in and started pushing and tugging. Long minutes went by, with Tim and Richard watching anxiously, and I think I would have given up if it hadn't been for the hopeful light in Tim's eyes. Even with that encouragement, I was just about ready to admit defeat when I felt a rock give a little. "That one moved," I said.
"Can you pull it out?" Richard asked.
I tried, but couldn't get a good grip.
"Let me," Tim said, and reached around me. I guess cooking ribs is better hand exercise than punching keys at a computer all day, because he had it pulled out in a second. Or maybe he just had a stronger motive than I did.
Once he had the rock out of the way, I stuck my hand into the hole and felt a piece of cloth. "There's something in here." I yanked and pulled out a canvas drawstring sack. It was about as big as my biggest pocketbook, and looked about half full. I was tempted to open it myself, but that wouldn't have been right. Instead I handed it to Tim.
He swallowed visibly as he pulled the string. It came partway loose, then disintegrated. "Rotted through," he said, and pulled on the bag itself. The canvas held for a second longer, then came open and Tim looked inside. A yell burst out from him, and he grabbed an enormous stew pot from on top of the stove and spilled the contents of the bag out into it.
Neatly banded parcels of bills poured into the pot.
"It's Mama's money!" He reached his arms around both me and Richard and clutched us to him in a bear hug.
The three of us danced around and did our best to recreate the lost Rebel Yell. Eventually I remembered the other reason for our treasure hunt, and pulled myself free. "Is there anything else in there?"
Tim laughed, handed me a slotted spoon, and said, "Just stir it up and see!" Then he danced around some more with Richard.
I used the spoon to rummage around the bills. A couple of stacks came loose because the rubber bands containing them had given up, so I didn't find it right off. Besides, I was looking for papers or an envelope. What I found was a badly tarnished box.
"Tim, was this your mother's?" Not knowing how long fingerprints could last, I didn't touch it, just pointed with the spoon.
Tim finally stopped dancing. "What is it?"
"I think it's a cigarette case." I still had on my coat, so I reached into my pockets to find my gloves, and only picked it up after I had my hands covered.
Tim took a look. "I don't think so. Mama didn't smoke. And that looks like silver."
I flipped it open. It was filled with cigarettes, but they didn't look mass–produced. "I don't think these are tobacco."
Richard and Tim nodded.
"I know my Mama didn't smoke pot," Tim said firmly. "She didn't even like Uncle Eb drinking because she didn't want me picking it up."
"Maybe this was the reason she was killed," I said slowly. Possession of marijuana might be a misdemeanor now, but twenty–five years ago, it could have led to a long jail sentence. "What if the murderer was looking for this, not for the money?"
Tim looked confused, but then, he didn't know what Richard and I had been up to. "Caleb Wilkins was a junkie?"
"I don't think it was Caleb Wilkins," I said. "I'll explain it all later, but right now I think we ought to call the police. Maybe they can still find fingerprints on this, and figure out who it belonged to."
"We won't need fingerprints," Richard said. "Hold the case up to the light again."
I closed the case, and took a closer look at the front. The inscription was obscured by the tarnish, but after a minute I read the initials out loud. "JB."
* * *
"Well, Joe," Andy Norton said. "Do you want to tell us what happened?" He hefted the cigarette case, now encased in a plastic bag.
Joe Bowley wasn't smiling now. His chubby face had gone slack, and he wasn't meeting Chief Norton's eyes.
It was around nine o'clock in the morning by then. Neither Richard or I had gone to bed after finding Fannie's cache. Instead we had called Junior Norton and her father to come take charge of the cigarette case, and told them all we knew. After that, we had all gone to the police station to wait until it was late enough that Junior could go get Joe Bowley.
Junior even deputized her father so he could lead the questioning, since it had been his case originally. "It's an early Christmas present," she had said with a grin. An odd present, maybe, but no more odd than what Richard and I were trying to give Aunt Edna.
Now Richard, Junior, Tim, and I were waiting for Joe's answer. He had already waived his right to have a lawyer present, and even agreed to let Tim, Richard, and me listen in.
Joe took a long, ragged breath, and started to speak. "I didn't even like pot much at first—that's the crazy thing. I only started smoking because some of the guys liked it, and I always carried it around in case somebody wanted to smoke with me. Nobody did at the party, but I went around back of the shed to smoke one anyway. To celebrate winning. That's where Fannie found me. Lord, she was mad. Said she didn't need drugs around her bar.
"I probably shouldn't have offered her one, because that just made her madder, and she snatched the case away from me. She said she wouldn't call the police, but I was going to have to tell my daddy or she would. She said she'd give him the case back when he came to talk to her.
"I was going to tell him, I was going to tell him that night. Only when I got home, he kept saying how proud he was of me for playing such a good game. I couldn't tell him then.
"So I went back to Fannie's late that night, after everybody else had gone home. I just wanted more time, but she said I had to tell Daddy right away. I offered her money to keep quiet, but she said that she was going to call Daddy the first thing in the morning." He shook his head, not so much in regret as in complete lack of understanding. "She just wouldn't listen to me."
"Is that when you hit her?" Chief Norton asked.
Joe looked shocked. "You make it sound like I meant to hurt her. What happened is that she wanted me to leave, and I wouldn't go without my case. She said she was going to get her shotgun, was even heading for the bar to go get it. I just wanted to stop her, so I tried to catch her arm. She wriggled away, so I had to grab her. She kept moving, trying to get away, and she pushed herself away from me and lost her balance. That's when she hit her head. It was an accident."
"If it was an accident," Chief Norton said quietly, "why didn't you call for help?"
"I didn't think she was dead––I thought she had just knocked herself out. I had to find my case. I knew it was there somewhere, and I didn't want anybody else to find it."
I wasn't supposed to talk, but I couldn't help asking. "What about the blood? Didn't you even check for a pulse?"
He didn't really answer me, just said, "I would have called for help once I found the case."
Chief Norton said, "Didn't you stop to think that if Fannie had been alive, she could have called your father when she woke up? Maybe even the police?"
"She wouldn't have done that, not without the case as proof. It would have been her word against mine, and Daddy wouldn't have believed a ni––" He looked at Tim and stopped. "She knew that."
"But you didn't find the case."
I pictured him ripping up the bar while Fannie lay there bleeding, and shivered. Richard took my hand.
Joe shook his head. "I looked everywhere, and then I heard a car drive up. I didn't know it was Caleb. I thought it was Fannie's brother, and he might have been drinking. He'd have killed me if he had found me in there with her like that. So I went out the back door and drove away."
"You must have thought that I'd come looking for you pretty soon," Chief Norton said. "Why didn't you try to run?"
"I didn't have anywhere to go. This is my home, my family is here."
Byerly had been Caleb's home, too, I thought.
Joe went on. "The next day I heard about Fannie being dead and Caleb being arrested, but nobody mentioned my cigarette case. I was sure that Caleb would get out of it. He was innocent, after all."
I didn't find his trust in our legal system very touching.
Chief Norton said, "What about your hat?"
Joe looked surprised that he knew that part, but answered anyway. "I saw I didn't have mine a couple of days later, and that's when I thought about getting the team to burn them all as a protest. Like burning flags and bras the way people did then."
I didn't think that anybody had ever burned a bra to hide evidence of a murder.
Finally Joe met Chief Norton's eyes. "I did what I could for Caleb. We paid for his bail and his lawyer, never asked for a penny of it back. Walters would have hired him back eventually. He didn't have to leave town like that."
Easy for him to say when he hadn't been the outcast.
He looked down at his hands. "I tried to make up for it."
I remembered what Aunt Nora had said about Joe's charity work, and wondered how much of his life had been spent trying to make up for Fannie Topper. He had done everything but the right thing.
* * *
"So Joe murdered Fannie," Aunt Nora said after Richard and I had told her about it.
"It wasn't murder after all," Richard said. "Joe told us it was an accident, and I believe him. Even Tim said he couldn't hate him."
I wasn't quite so forgiving as Richard and Tim, but I had to admit that Joe had looked right pitiful sitting there, knowing that he was finally going to have to tell his father the truth.
"Did Junior put him in jail?"
I shook my head. "She let him go home for now. She's not sure what the district attorney is going to want to do."
"Have you called Caleb?"
"First thing. I had to get Andy Norton on the line to convince him that it was true, but he said he's going to meet me and Richard at Aunt Maggie's on Christmas morning. Then we'll bring him over here." The Burnettes always gathered together on Christmas morning, and this year Aunt Nora was the hostess. "I can't wait to see Aunt Edna's face."
Then I thought of something. "Aunt Nora, do you suppose you could throw some hints around that Aunt Edna might want to dress up a bit?" After all this, I didn't want Caleb to be shocked by her appearance.
"I think I can handle that. Why don't you two go get yourselves some sleep. You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet."
"That sounds like an excellent suggestion," Richard said, and pulled me out of the chair before I could fall asleep right where I was.
We slept most of that day to catch up, and since the next day was Christmas Eve, we stayed busy wrapping gifts and visiting. Chief Norton brought over a platter of Christmas cookies, and Tim Topper delivered enough sealed bags of barbeque to feed my habit for a year.
* * *
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Richard and I were up early to exchange gifts before joining in on the official Burnette celebration. Then we ate breakfast with Aunt Maggie and sent her along to Aunt Nora's house so we could wait.
Caleb showed up right on time, dressed in what had to be a new suit, and grinning from ear to ear. He kept trying to thank us, but I finally got him into his car by telling him that we were going to be late.
The plan was for him to follow us, and let us go inside first. After a few minutes, he would ring the bell and we'd make sure that Aunt Edna answered.
Caleb looked nervous, but no more than I was. As we drove to Aunt Nora's, all of a sudden I was wondering if this had been a good idea. What right did I have to meddle this way? Aunt Nora had said that Aunt Edna had been furious at Caleb when he left. What if she didn't want to speak to him?
"It's going to be fine," Richard said. "Even if they don't get together again, I'm sure they'll enjoy seeing each other."
"What if they don't get along anymore? Aunt Edna has changed an awful lot." I kept remembering the picture of how she used to be. If that was the woman Caleb was expecting to see, he was going to be disappointed.
"It's going to be fine," Richard repeated. "Don't get your shorts in a bunch."
I had to giggle. "Where did you hear that?"
"Aunt Nora, of course. You didn't think that was Shakespeare, did you?"
Finally we were there. Richard and I parked on the street, and I made sure Caleb had parked behind us before we went inside.
The house was filled nearly to the bursting point with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and it took me a few minutes to spot Aunt Nora. I called her name, and she bustled over to me.
"Is he here?" she whispered.
"He's outside. Where's Aunt Edna?"
"Ruby Lee took her to freshen up. Here they come now."
I looked up that way, meaning to wish them a merry Christmas, but I never did get the words out.
Aunt Edna was wearing a dark red dress that flattered her slim figure, and matching pumps. Her hair had been released from its bun, and trimmed and curled around her face. She had on a pearl necklace and earrings, and even eye shadow and lipstick.
"Merry Christmas, Laurie Anne," she said, smiling shyly.
I looked at Aunt Nora, and she grinned. She and the other aunts must have spent the past two days re–making Aunt Edna.
Before I could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Aunt Nora must have prompted everybody, because even though there were several people near the door, nobody moved.
"Edna, would you get that?" Aunt Nora asked innocently.
Aunt Edna looked curious, but went to the door and opened it.
From over her shoulder, I could see Caleb holding a bouquet of roses and a wrapped box. "Hello, Edna," he said.
I held my breath for her answer.
"Caleb Wilkins," she said. "I was wondering if you'd ever show up again. What do you want?"
My heart went right through the floor. She didn't want to see him.
"I'm sorry, Edna," he said. "I've regretted leaving you like I did every day for the past twenty–five years."
"I hope you don't think I've been sitting around waiting for you to come back!"
"No, I didn't think that. I just hope you'll let me come back now."
"For how long this time?"
"Edna, I swear that the only way I'll leave again is if you want me to." He paused. "Are you telling me to go?"
They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, both so filled with pride that it hurt to watch them. Aunt Edna's head was held high in a way I had never seen before, and I finally understood why Aunt Nora had called her the one with spirit.
Finally Aunt Edna said, "No, I'm not telling to you to go, Caleb. I'm asking you to stay." She reached out a hand, and Caleb took it. Then suddenly she was out on the porch with him and they were in each others arms, kissing with twenty–five years' worth of passion.
After a few stunned seconds, Aunt Nora closed the door behind them and wiped her eyes.
Richard put his arms around me, and we kissed, too.
"Merry Christmas, Richard."
"Merry Christmas, Laura." Then in a voice loud enough for everybody to hear, he added, "God bless us every one!"