Scandals in Savannah

by Harper Lin

  In a flash, Becky was back in Cecelia’s apartment. Her whole body was trembling. When she opened her left hand, the features of the medallion wrapped in the blue scarf were imprinted in the meat of her palm. The moon was behind a patch of clouds, and the clock showed ten after midnight.

  “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Becky.” Cecelia took the medallion out of Becky’s limp hand and set it on the table. “It was the only thing I could do that might give you a leg up on them. Was there anything that might help? Anything at all?”

  It took Becky a few minutes to work up enough spit to swallow. Her mouth had gone bone-dry, and she felt like she’d just stepped out of a dark circus tent into the light. She looked at her right hand and the dirt that was now compressed into her palm.

  “Mr. Ruthmeyer and Mr. Tobin were both involved with this hoodoo, but Leelee obviously preferred Earl Tobin over Mr. Ruthmeyer.”

  “He had to be the easier of the two to control,” Cecelia said, nodding.

  Becky told Cecelia what the moonshiners had done to Stella Tobin and why she had married Mr. Tobin. “She didn’t love him, but they threatened her mother. Like they’ve done to me. They are going to get at me through my family and friends. Cecelia, I’m so sorry. I brought this right to your doorstep. And all I can say is…what now?” Becky whimpered.

  “I don’t know. But at least you know the story. And you know that Mr. Tobin doesn’t get his hands dirty. Leelee does his bidding and gets other men to kill for him.” Cecelia looked scared. “Maybe Mr. Tobin is the weak link.”

  In that split second, Becky thought of what Moxley had been saying about Fanny. The girl had everything done for her, arranged for her, provided for her because she was too dumb to know how to rub two nickels together. She was doted on because she couldn’t survive any other way. Just like Earl Tobin.

  “Mr. Tobin is the weak link. That’s why he’s never around doing any of the heavy lifting. Even Stella has to do the bootlegging to the speakeasies. He is incapable of handling anything. And he certainly couldn’t be trusted to carry through setting the Ruthmeyer home on fire. That’s why Edward did it,” Becky said. “And it’s Leelee who poisoned Daddy’s crops and is making Martha’s mother and Mr. Gavin sick. I’ll bet my last dollar it was Edward who did in your storefront window, too. Mr. Tobin was nowhere around.”

  “Becky, didn’t Ernesto see you the other night?” Cecelia asked.

  “Of course he did. He told me to come here tonight,” she snapped, annoyed that Cecelia wasn’t following her train of thought.

  “Where is the juju bag I gave you?” Cecelia asked.

  “The what?”

  “Ernesto was supposed to give you a juju bag to wear. I told him to tell you to keep it around your neck at all times.” It was Cecelia’s turn to sound sharp.

  “Oh, that! I gave it to Martha. I hoped it would help keep her safe. I guess it kept her safe but not her mother.”

  “What do you mean?” Cecelia asked.

  Becky told her what she heard about Mrs. Bourdeaux and what was happening to Mr. Gavin.

  “Then there are Daddy’s crops and your windows. The circle around me just keeps getting wider.”

  “Becky, that juju bag was to protect you. To keep you hidden.” Cecelia shook her head. “It was all I could do. You’d been wearing disguises when you stumbled on their moonshine still. You might have been able to tell them that the ‘boys’ who went onto their property were a couple of bindle stiffs your daddy had hired and that they hopped the rails for parts unknown.”

  Becky stared at Cecelia and shook her head. “I can’t seem to do anything right.”

  “I should have delivered it myself. Then you would have known how important it was. I should have known you’d give it away to protect someone else. That’s part of your glow, Becky.”

  At the word glow, Becky chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds before she leaned back in her chair.

  “Cecelia, you got all that wallop from that little bit of dirt from Mr. Ruthmeyer’s land?”

  “I got the dirt. You brought out the wallop.” Cecelia grinned.

  “I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot. But I’ve got to try.” Becky stood up and went to the door.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I might just have to make a deal with the devil.” Becky sighed.

  Before Cecelia could say another word, Becky was out the door and heading down the stairs. When she reached the store, she found Stephen inside, staring into a glass case of exotic roots and herbs.

  “Come on,” she said, slipping past Ophelia and grabbing him by the hand.

  “What kind of a store is this?” he gasped as he stood, still pointing to the strange objects in the case.

  “It’s a specialty shop,” Becky replied.

  “Who shops at a place like this?” he whispered.

  “People who need…dried scorzonera root,” she replied. “Now come on.”

  “What is dried scorzonera used for?” Stephen continued to fuss.

  “I think it’s used to shut the mouths of annoying men who won’t leave when they are asked,” Becky panted. “Don’t worry about that now. Bye, Ophelia!” She waved and pulled Stephen out the door.

  “That old lady had one gray eye.” Stephen shuddered.

  “I know. I think she can see ghosts with it,” Becky replied.

  “That gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  If that scared him, Becky was sure she couldn’t take him where she planned to go next.

  He tried to put her on trial the whole way back. One question led to another and another. By the time they got to the long dirt road that led to her house, Becky was looking forward to her gruesome task as long as it meant there was some quiet.

  Before Stephen got too curious, Becky informed him that she thought she, Ophelia, and Cecelia might have a cure for what was eating her father’s tobacco. It bothered her that she could lie so easily, but it was necessary. If Stephen knew the truth, he certainly wouldn’t believe it, and if he mentioned it to his family, they’d most definitely be chirping in Kitty’s ear by the time the sun came up. She asked him to stop the car where he’d picked her up and made him promise not to tell anyone where they’d gone or to follow her.

  “Why don’t you want me to tell anyone where we were?” Stephen asked, again with the questions.

  “I just don’t think it’s anyone’s business,” Becky replied.

  “We went to a drugstore, where I waited for you for fifteen minutes, and when I went inside, some creepy old dame with a white eye gave me a once-over before you rescued me. That sounds like a program for the radio if I ever heard of one.”

  “Look, I don’t have all night to explain proper manners to you. I’m asking you to keep it mum,” Becky huffed. “I’m sorry if the evening didn’t turn out as you’d hoped.”

  “Don’t be daffy. The evening isn’t over yet. It’s still early. I know you know half a dozen dives that still have their lights on. Come on. Let’s go for one spin somewhere.”

  “That sounds swell,” she replied as she hopped out of the passenger’s seat. “But not tonight. You’re a swell egg, Stephen. Really you are.”

  “Wait. Is that it?” He hopped out from behind the steering wheel and stopped Becky in her tracks. “I drove all the way down here to show you a good time.”

  “I had a good time. No. A great time. And now time is up. Good night, Stephen.”

  Becky waved and had started the long walk toward her house when Stephen took her hand and held her fast.

  “I don’t know what it is about you, Rebecca Mackenzie, but you’ve got me in knots.” Stephen smiled devilishly.

  “It’s probably just indigestion,” she said as she hurried away from him and toward her house.

  When she heard the engine start again, Becky quickly darted into the tobacco field and headed toward what was left of Mr. Ruthmeyer’s home. If she’d just waited a few more minutes, Stephen wouldn’t have seen her and decided t
o follow at a distance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There was a jumble of puzzle pieces in Becky’s head. As she huffed through the tobacco plants, smelling their sweet scent and feeling their cool, smooth leaves against her skin, she tried to calm herself and fit the pieces together.

  The dirt from Mr. Ruthmeyer’s property had something strong in it. Becky had seen exactly where the firefighters had laid Mr. Ruthmeyer’s body when they removed it. There had to be some kind of value in that. If she could get Leelee to trade—Martha’s mother and her father’s crops for the magic in that dirt—maybe, maybe she could save them.

  “She’s not going to make it that easy,” Becky muttered as she reached the fence that separated the Mackenzie property from Mr. Ruthmeyer’s. When the moon wasn’t behind a patch of clouds, it gave off enough light for Becky to see where she was going.

  “This is crazy,” she continued. “I don’t know what I’m doing. This is as creepy as Leelee digging in the cemetery.”

  Her legs ached from wearing the wrong shoes to walk the field in. She tried to distract herself from the gruesome task at hand. But when she looked at the remains of the house, she saw more than just the shell of a home. A faint glow hovered where they had laid Mr. Ruthmeyer’s remains. There had to be some kind of essence of the man left there—something Leelee wouldn’t know about, or else she would have had her goons with the sewn-up lips harvest the dirt for its power by now.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ruthmeyer. I’m sorry this happened to you. But if you could see your way clear to help me, maybe you’ll get to see Stella again, just for a minute,” Becky said as kindly as she could.

  There might have been bits of his burnt skin mixed with the dirt. If it was powerful enough for her to see the story behind Mr. Ruthmeyer’s murder, then it might be strong enough to bargain with. Maybe.

  With nothing but the pockets of her skirt to carry the dirt in, Becky headed off in the direction of the Tobin house. The light kept waning every few minutes as clouds silently floated across the sky. Stars played hide-and-seek with her as she looked up into the darkness. It was beautiful and haunting at the same time. Becky could feel at one with the nature all around her and at other times feel like a stranger trespassing.

  “If that isn’t spot-on, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” she muttered again.

  Finally, she saw the Tobin house up on the hill. Her feet burned with blisters, and she knew her stockings were shredded beyond repair.

  Suddenly, the scent of moss and bark was replaced by the smell of smoke. Something was burning. Becky was trying to guess which direction it was coming from when she spied a flickering bit of orange color in the distance. It wasn’t the Tobin house on fire or any other house, but it was a fire burning. As Becky carefully and quietly felt her way toward the glowing light, she heard voices.

  They were too far away for her to make out what they were saying, but they were chuckling and rambling as if something very exciting was going on. For some reason, Becky felt the need to pat the dirt in her pockets. It brought her a small sense of relief even though she had no idea if her plan was going to work.

  It didn’t matter. She’d give Leelee whatever she wanted if she promised not to hurt her father or Mrs. Bourdeaux. The thought made her feet feel as if they were weighted with chains. What was she doing? What would happen if the woman just stepped aside and played dumb about all of it?

  You know darn well what will happen. Daddy’s crops will blow away on the wind, and so will Martha’s mother. And it will be your fault. That was the part that stung the most.

  The glowing fire became bigger, and Becky soon realized it was a simple bonfire on the edge of the Tobin property, just a hop, skip, and jump from the moonshine still. Those men she heard were obviously imbibing in a late-night nip. Becky envied them that. She would have loved a champagne cocktail at the moment.

  “So now what are you going to do?” she asked the darkness.

  Just then, there was a rustling behind her. She froze, her hands instinctively going to her dirt-filled pockets to prevent any of Mr. Ruthmeyer from spilling out.

  The sounds of leaves rustling and something grunting and huffing made her think a herd of deer might have been passing. Those creatures got ornery at night, cavorting away from human eyes.

  Her shoes made her wince each time she took a step, but Becky continued toward the house. Her skirt snagged on a sticker bush, making her gasp when she thought someone had caught hold of her. But as she yanked it free, hearing the fabric tear, she sighed. Another dress ruined.

  Just walk right up there, Becky. Don’t think about being terrified. Just walk up there and tell them what you’ve got. It doesn’t matter if that old witch wants it or not. She’ll want something from you, and by golly, you’ll give it to her, because this whole mess is your fault. Now, take your medicine.

  Her pep talk helped for about ten seconds as she emerged from the woods at the edge of the circle of light from the fire. That was when her best-laid plan blew up in her face.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  “I was following you.” Stephen was standing in front of Edward, who had the double barrels of a shotgun jammed into Stephen’s kidney.

  “Who asked you to?” Becky clenched her hands into fists. “That man’s going to fill you full of daylight, all because you had to see where I was going.”

  “Who walks off into a tobacco field at one in the morning?” Stephen argued.

  “Someone who lives on a tobacco farm!” Becky snapped.

  “Oh, that’s just ducky. Look, pal, you don’t need to hold that piece on me. Now that I found her, we’ll be going,” Stephen said. Edward smirked and jerked the shotgun back before plowing it into Stephen’s side and knocking him to the ground.

  “Break it up!” Becky yelled. “He’s small potatoes. I think your boss is more interested in me. Why don’t you get her down here so I can talk business.”

  “Why don’t you drop that rod and fight me like a man.” Stephen coughed as he struggled to his knees.

  “You can’t reason with this guy, Stephen. He only takes orders from a woman. He burned down Mr. Ruthmeyer’s farm for her. He won’t hesitate to fill you full of buckshot as well. Isn’t that right, Edward?”

  Edward’s face fell as he stared at Becky. He might as well have just asked how she knew he committed the murder the way his jaw started working.

  Stephen looked up at the man and then down again at his hands, which were splayed in front of him. He was also obviously trying to come up with a plan to save them both. But little did Stephen know that even if they did manage to get away, they wouldn’t be free. Not by a long shot.

  “Where’s your boss? I don’t have all night,” Becky yelled.

  “Mr. Tobin will be right back,” Edward snarled.

  “Ha! Mr. Tobin? He’s not your boss! I’m talking about the woman with the scarf on her head. Leelee.”

  Edward was getting more and more upset every time Becky spoke.

  “Either you go get her for me, or I’ll just start calling for her myself.”

  Everyone stood still. The only movement came from the fire. The light danced off the trees and made the shadows come to life like tall, thin creatures hopping from place to place. The orange glow made the darkness look even more consuming than when Becky had been in it.

  “Edward, what’s going on out here?” It was Earl Tobin. He came stomping out of the house and marched right up to them.

  “Looks like we’ve got some trespassers,” Edward said gleefully.

  Mr. Tobin stood in between Becky and poor Stephen, who was still on the ground, and started to laugh. “Trespassers? Why, we’d be within our rights to shoot both of you. And I think that might be just what we…” His sadistic smile quickly folded into a frown as he looked more closely at Becky.

  “I need to talk to your boss.” Becky cursed her voice for trembling.

  Mr. Tobin wasn’t who she was really afraid of. But as
he stood there staring at her, the memory of seeing her at Daddy’s party as plain as the nose on his face, Becky feared she would not only not get the spell off her daddy’s crops but also might not see the sun rise.

  “I knew it was you. I told her that it weren’t no boy that was spying in our woods,” Mr. Tobin hissed. “I could tell by the way you run away that you and your accomplice were girls. Men don’t run with their elbows flying in all directions.”

  “You did say that, Earl,” Edward concurred.

  “Well, that’s a mighty brilliant deduction on your part. You’re a regular scholar. Now, if you don’t mind, I said I want to talk to your boss.”

  Becky didn’t know why she used those words. They tumbled out of her mouth like men making a prison break. There was no way to stop them.

  Mr. Tobin glared at Becky and pinched his lips together.

  “You do know she’s the big cheese, don’t you? You’re not the one running the racket on your own land. She is.” Becky shrugged as if what she was saying was the most common, casual fact in the world. “Now get her.”

  Mr. Tobin walked up to Becky and stood toe-to-toe with her. He looked down at least six inches and smelled foul. But it wasn’t just the smell of a man who had worked a field. It was a sickly smell that came from the inside, as if something had gone off and had yet to be thrown away. His clothes were dirty, stained with sweat and grime. This was not a man who was reaping the ill-gotten gains of his long-time enemy. This was a man who was ill.

  “I think you need to watch your mouth, little girl. Your daddy ain’t here to save you. That witch in town ain’t here to save you. That Bruno on the ground ain’t going to save you. The way I see it, you’re behind the eight ball.”

  “You can see it any way you want. I don’t care what you do. You’re just the lackey. I said I wanted to talk to the big shot running this operation. I’m sure she knows I’m here.” Becky was starting to get annoyed. If she was going to give up her eternal soul to save her father and her friend, she wanted to move things along.