Love and Murder in Savannah

by Harper Lin

  “What do you want with me?” Becky snapped.

  “I don’t want anything. I’m making myself available to you because I see a storm coming.” She looked back down at the table of cards.

  “Don’t you think you might be confusing me with Martha? After all, it was her house where there was a murder. I was in the dining room.” Becky picked up the hot cup of coffee and took another sip. “And I barely knew the man.”

  “Ha-ha!” Madame Cecelia shook her head. Her smile pushed her cheeks up, revealing two deep dimples. “That doesn’t matter to the spirits at work. Do you think it was a coincidence that that Ouija board made its first appearance and suddenly there was a death? A rather violent death, I might add.”

  Becky looked at Madame Cecelia and pointed her finger. “Are you saying it’s Fanny’s fault? Because good luck getting anyone in the Mackenzie family to admit she can do anything other than walk on water.”

  “Fanny is part of the puzzle, just like I am, just like you are. Becky, I know that you have special talents. You don’t have to worry about me thinking you are crazy or scary.” Madame Cecelia tapped the rows of cards in front of her. “Quite the opposite. Frankly, I am jealous of your ability. It glows like the light magnified by those shards of crystal up there.” She pointed to the chandelier overhead. “But if I can see it, so can the Others. You see what happened when you came to my front door, and those were just my family. The Others see you, too, except they are peeking from dark corners and around blind spots. I just want you to be careful.”

  Becky swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure whether she believed all of this or if Madame Cecelia and her creepy mother were just playing a trick on her. Maybe they were afraid Becky was going to start doing parlor tricks too. Another psychic in town would impact their business. Not that Becky was a psychic. She wasn’t. All she knew for sure about the future was that she would be having a drink and she would be doing some dancing.

  “I’m going to go.” Becky set the cup down and stood up. There was no dizzying residue. She felt fine and smoothed out the front of her dress. Then she noticed her stockings, with the tears and snags from scaling the trellis.

  “You might want to stop in the store before you leave. Mother has something for you.” Madame Cecelia smirked.

  “What is it? A little tongue of newt? Maybe a charm to ward off the evil eye. She should know all about that,” Becky said as she walked toward the door.

  “Something you’ll need.” Madame Cecelia chuckled.

  Becky stood at the door with her hand on the knob. For a moment she hesitated. What did Madame Cecelia know about her, and how did she come to know it? It had to be Martha or maybe Teddy. Perhaps at the party they let her secret slip. Teddy was three sheets to the wind. He wouldn’t remember if he admitted to the murder of Lawrence Hoolihan, let alone Becky’s secret life of conversing with the dead. Part of her wanted to stay with Madame Cecelia and talk. But she turned the knob, pulled the door open, and hurried down the stairs.

  Without allowing herself time to think, she pushed the door to the apothecary open and stomped in a couple of steps before the white-eyed old woman stopped her. She held out a flat paper bag.

  “You tell Adam White we said hello.” The old woman chuckled.

  Becky snatched the bag from the old woman and stomped out of the store, vowing never to return. She got in Teddy’s car and opened the bag to find a brand-new pair of silk stockings.

  “What did she mean by that? Tell Adam they said hello? How do they know Adam?” she muttered as she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her old, torn stockings. Within seconds, she wore her new ones and had left Teddy’s car parked on the street while she continued stomping away from the apothecary. All Becky had had to eat was a sliver of Lucretia’s corn bread and two deep sips of Madame Cecelia’s delicious coffee. The tiny amount of food had left her feeling famished.

  It only took a few minutes for her to spot the sign she was looking for. On the next block, straight ahead, was the word EAT. Her stomach grumbled at the idea, and as she walked in that direction with her head high, her red hair bouncing with each step, and her mind focused on what she’d just been through at Madame Cecelia’s, she barely noticed the man who came out of the small door, carrying a stack of papers upon his strong shoulder. When she bumped into him and knocked the papers from his shoulder, she gasped.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, the familiar smell of ink filling her nostrils.

  “It’s all right, Becky. Funny thing. I was just thinking about you,” Adam White said with the same smile a little boy would have upon being presented with a surprise slice of apple pie.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What are you doing in the city all by yourself?” Adam asked as Becky nervously fidgeted with the cuffs of her dress.

  “Oh. Well, I… uh… needed a new pair of stockings.” It was the first thing that popped into her mind. She couldn’t tell him she was visiting a fortune-teller and her crazy, white-eyed mother. “And I left the house so early that I didn’t have any breakfast. So, I was going to get something to eat.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, that heavy northern accent of his making it sound like “iz zat so.” “I hope you weren’t thinking of going to this place.” He jerked his thumb toward the diner with the EAT sign.

  “I was.”

  “No. I won’t let you. Come with me. I just have to drop these bundles on the truck, and then I’ll take you for breakfast.” Adam once again stood dangerously close to Becky, looking down at her. “My uncle let me drive his car today. It’s around back.”

  Before Becky could think twice, she felt herself nodding and the word “yes” tumbling out of her mouth. With a nod of his own, Adam smiled, picked up the bundles of newspaper, and hoisted them easily back onto his shoulders. They walked around the side of the building together to where the newspaper truck waited. He plunked the stacks on the truck bed and shouted to the driver. There was a honk just before the truck pulled away and disappeared down the other end of the alley.

  “Come on.” Adam took Becky by the hand and hurried back down the alley to the sidewalk, where an old jalopy was parked.

  “This is your uncle’s car?” Becky asked happily, sliding into the passenger seat after Adam held the door open for her.

  “Sure is.”

  “He won’t mind you driving me around?” Becky asked.

  “Nope. I’m his favorite nephew,” he replied as he got behind the wheel.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I know all the pretty girls.” He winked at Becky then made her squeal as he started the car and sped down the street.

  Adam’s uncle’s car was an open top just like Teddy’s. It was a little smaller and created a bigger cloud of gray smoke behind it, but as far as Becky was concerned, it was a chariot and she was a princess. Even when they rolled past the hen coop and half the ladies looking out the windows as they sat under the dryers recognized her, Becky didn’t care. It was just the scandal needed to take the heat off Martha and the dead man they removed from her party. After all, Lawrence Hoolihan wasn’t going to get any deader. But Rebecca Mackenzie cavorting around town with that Yankee Adam White was front-page news.

  At first it was easy not to care. The sun was out, and the temperature was climbing. The smell of the jalopy’s exhaust along with the sputter of its engine made Becky feel like she was a million miles from home. It was like she and Adam were the only two people in the world. They were no longer in the heart of Savannah but instead on the fringe of the city, where the buildings weren’t so tall and time had braked to that wonderfully slow Southern speed.

  “So where are you taking me?” Becky asked.

  Without saying a word, Adam pointed at a small shack with peeling red paint and a wooden sign that read Good Food Here painted on it. Three other cars as well as a bicycle stood in front of the building. The front window had Phil’s Diner painted across it in red-and-yellow letters along with mentions of stewed rhuba
rb and daily specials.

  There were flower boxes loaded with wildflowers and patches of milk thistle growing up through the gravel drive.

  When she saw the clock behind the dessert display inside the small joint, which smelled of strong coffee and sizzling bacon, she hiccupped. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed since she left Rockdale Estate with Teddy’s car. But then she looked at Adam, who had taken her hand and tugged her toward two empty seats at the counter.

  As soon as they took a seat, Adam ordered two cups of coffee and a slice of apple pie for himself. Becky, who never met a cut of pig she didn’t like, ordered herself bacon and a bowl of grits.

  “So, I hear there was a bit of excitement at a party out in Pooler,” Adam said, making Becky almost choke on her coffee.

  “How did you hear about that?” Becky felt awful that Adam knew about the party that he wasn’t invited to.

  “A murder is real news,” he said.

  Becky pinched her lips together and looked into Adam’s blue eyes. “I thought for sure Martha would have come down with the screaming meemies, but she’s doing all right. It was Lawrence Hoolihan. I didn’t know him all that well, but…”

  Adam gasped. “Larry? I had no idea that’s who it was.”

  “You knew him?” Becky put her hand to her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised.” Adam took a sip of coffee.

  “Why?”

  “He owed half of Savannah. The guy was a real louse. I don’t think there was a card table in town that he didn’t sit down at and lose. Big.”

  “It’s funny you should say that. He was playing poker at the party.” Becky had all but forgotten about the card she’d found on the floor. That card was snuggled against her breast as they spoke.

  “You find out who was at that card table with him, and I’ll bet dollars to donuts that you’ll find who bumped him off,” Adam said, his northern accent making him sound exotic and forbidden.

  Becky, although she felt bad for poor Lawrence Hoolihan, couldn’t really concentrate on his current state. He was dead. Murdered in cold blood. But right now, Becky was sitting so close to the sheik of her dreams, a real Valentino, that she would have been happy to talk about gutting a pig if it kept Adam White interested.

  Finally, after finishing her grits and watching Adam devour two slices of pie in four bites, she looked again at the clock. It was already nearly one o’clock.

  “Oh no.” Her eyes bugged. “Is that really the time?”

  Adam nodded.

  “I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to take me back. I’ve got to get Teddy’s car back to him. He’s going to have kittens if I don’t get back right away.” She wiped her mouth and hopped off the stool as Adam tossed some change on the counter.

  Before Becky even had a chance to thank him, they were in the car, heading back to the corner where they’d initially run into one another.

  “Where did you park?” Adam asked as they neared the corner.

  “You can drop me right here,” Becky said. “I’m just around the corner. I think it’s a one-way street,” she lied, not wanting to risk running into Madame Cecelia or the old lady.

  Without another word, Adam pulled the car to the curb and hopped out of his side to hurry and open the door for her.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets and leaning down an inch or two as if he couldn’t hear Becky if he didn’t. She could smell the ink on his clothes and wanted to drown in it.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she gushed.

  “Becky, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” He cleared his throat. “I hear it’s a custom in these parts for a fellow to call on a lady when he wants to take her out on a proper date. Do you think… that is, would you mind if I came calling on you? Sometime?”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” she stuttered.

  “That’s swell,” he replied with a sly smirk. “Until then, will this be cash or check?”

  “Why, Adam White. What are you trying to do? Ruin my reputation?” She giggled. Becky wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around his big, thick neck and kiss him full on the lips. But it was bad enough her mother was probably already aware she was in the Yankee’s car. If anyone saw her necking in public, her mother would die of embarrassment. “This will have to be check. Thank you for breakfast.”

  Becky extended her hand as a proper lady would. Adam took it and squeezed it hard, making her knees quiver slightly. Once he let go, she sashayed down the street toward the apothecary and Teddy’s car. She climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine, and within seconds began heading back home and to Rockdale Estate. She expected Teddy to be furious, but he wasn’t even home.

  She left the key with Mr. Rockdale, who had happily gotten his tractor to purr like the others. The problem was the belt, just as he’d said. But as Becky emerged from the path that joined the two pieces of property, she heard the cackle of a creature worse than whatever had swooped over her at Madame Cecelia’s place. It was Fanny, and she was on the back porch with Teddy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Girl!” Teddy shouted. “Where in the world have you been?”

  “I’m so sorry, Teddy. I lost track of time while I was running my errands.” She had grabbed the tea towel Lucretia had given her this morning, which she’d hung on a bush along the way home. “I left the keys with your daddy. I returned her in one piece. Not a scratch.” Becky winked.

  “Rebecca, who is Adam White?” Fanny asked, her eyes narrowing like a cat spotting an unsuspecting mouse off in the distance.

  “Adam White? I’ve heard the name but can’t place the face. Works at the newspaper, I think. I can’t be sure,” she lied again.

  “Your mother is fit to be tied over you and some fellow named Adam White,” Fanny said proudly. “If you don’t know him, someone might be feeding your poor mother a line. I’d go talk to her if I were you.”

  Becky felt her chest tighten. It was bad enough Fanny was staying at the house, but to have her relaying messages to Becky on when to talk with her own mother, well, that was just too much. Without saying a word, Becky turned to the house and walked inside.

  “Hi, Miss Becky,” Lucretia said cheerfully.

  “Hi, Lulu. Here’s your towel back,” Becky said, absently handing it back to the housekeeper. “Is my mother in the parlor?”

  “She is,” Lucretia replied.

  After taking a deep breath, Becky marched down the hallway to the parlor, where her mother sat with her latest sewing project in her hands. She didn’t look up when Becky entered the room.

  “Hello, Ma—”

  “I guess you didn’t want Martha to be the only one with a scandal chasing behind her. Is that right?” Kitty asked.

  “I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” Becky lied for the third time. She hated how easily lying came to her.

  Kitty looked up at her daughter, her lips pinched together so hard they disappeared, leaving nothing but an angry slit in her face. “Rebecca Madeline, I received a visit from a very concerned Helen-Lyn Merryweather, who was at the beauty parlor getting her hair done when she saw my only daughter in the jalopy of a Mr. Adam White, who hails from enemy territory.”

  “Mama, please let me explain…”

  “Now I am sure that the younger generation sees nothing wrong with welcoming the kin of those who beat, starved, and killed our family members in the great war of aggression, but I will not stand for it,” Kitty said, looking back at her sewing.

  “Mama, Adam White is as much a gentleman as any of the men born and raised here. Maybe even more so.” Becky straightened her back. “In fact, like a real gentleman, he asked me if he could come calling on me some day, and I—”

  “I hope you told him no!” Kitty finally looked her daughter in the eyes. “A real gentleman, indeed. He had no regard for what people were going to say about the two of you cavorting around town
. Now all of a sudden he is going to act like a gentleman?”

  “I told him I would like it very much if he did call on me,” Becky replied defiantly. “You’d like him, too, if you weren’t so stuck in your ways.”

  “It’s these ways that led me to marry so well. Had I been a recluse and fell for any man who paid me the slightest attention, I shudder to think of how my life could have turned out. Young lady, I just don’t know where I’ve gone wrong.” Kitty sighed. “Why can’t you be more like your cousin Fanny?”

  Becky felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Is that really what you want, Mama? You don’t like me the way I am? Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to my room for a spell. I’ve had an exhausting day and would like to wash my face before supper. If I may be excused.”

  Kitty’s face made it obvious that she regretted what she’d said, but it didn’t matter. The words were uttered aloud and could not be taken back. Without waiting for a reply, Becky left the parlor and nearly collided with Fanny, who had been studying a painting or a potted plant or the carpet or something that was close enough for her to hear every word.

  It took every bit of energy for Becky to keep her tongue behind her teeth. Fanny’s cheeks reddened as she tried to act casual, but she had clearly heard what Kitty had said and was relishing it.

  Quietly and calmly, Becky went upstairs. Her eyes started to sting with tears, but before they could breach her eyelids, she quickly shut her bedroom door and turned the lock.

  How could her mother have said that to her when she knew how much Becky disliked Fanny? And she wasn’t even willing to give Adam a chance just because he was a Yankee. If only Kitty knew how some of those Southern gentlemen acted at the juke joints and the speakeasies, she wouldn’t be so quick to judge someone with a northern accent.