by Ann B. Ross
“Oh, everybody knowed it was mine. They seen it enough, an’ a couple of them boys was always askin’ me if I got it on a trip to Scotland. Shoo.” Lamar laughed and shook his head. “I ain’t never been to no Scotland, an’ they knowed that, too.”
“So,” I said with some relief, “they didn’t identify it by getting your fingerprints from it?”
“Aw, shoot, no. They just knowed soon as they saw it whose it was.”
I was feeling better and better, and almost got up to look for some cookies.
“But I heard ’em talkin’ about fingerprints, now that you mention it, an’ one of ’em said something like they couldn’t get none off of a loose weave, but another’un said the label was a different kettle of fish, an’ likely some would show up on it.”
Well, that was a dash of cold water.
“On the other hand,” I said in an attempt to come up with a reason to hope, “that scarf has been handled by any number of people, considering where it’s been. I guess, though, that they’ll take a special interest in the topmost prints—the most recent ones. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe, if they think about it. But nobody’s handled it lately but me an’ them, so it won’t tell ’em nothin’ they don’t already know. Which is a good thing ’cause their fingerprint man’s out with the flu.”
Well, that was cause for temporary jubilation. So I decided not to tell him that I had not only handled the scarf, I had specifically fingered the label. There was no reason to give him something else to let slip, although so far, he seemed to have kept my presence at the scene of the crime under wraps.
Wanting to confirm that, I approached the subject gingerly. “Lamar, did the deputies ask if anyone was with you?”
“No’m, they never did. All they wanted to know was what I was doing out there and how I got there.”
“And what did you say?”
“I just said I got a ride out that way, ’cause I wanted to see how close my ole stompin’ grounds was to where somebody got kilt. Then I told ’em how I used to hunt and trap back up in there, an’ how I was a pretty good shot back then. Then I got kinda skeered for tellin’ that ’cause I didn’t know if that lady had got shot or what.”
“No, she wasn’t shot.”
“I kinda figgered that out pretty soon ’cause they just laughed when I said I could shoot good. ’Course I ain’t kept up with it, so I prob’ly couldn’t hit Dick’s outhouse now.”
“Whose what?”
“Oh, sorry, ma’am, it’s just a sayin’.”
“Okay, let’s go back over this one more time,” I said, wanting all the reassurance I could get. “They know you were out there—in the vicinity, anyway—because they found your scarf. But they don’t know that I was with you, right?”
“That’s right, ’cause I didn’t tell ’em. But they knowed somebody else was out there, ’cause I swore up and down that I didn’t set off them lights an’ sirens. An’ you know I didn’t, an’ I know you didn’t.”
I sat up straight at that, quickly deciding not to correct him. Although, on further thought, he could’ve been right. All I’d done was press my forehead against a windowpane to get a better look into a dark room. Had that been enough to set off the alarms? Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe that someone else—who by now I was convinced had been in the house—had set them off.
Feeling more hopeful, I went to the pantry and found a package of Oreo cookies.
“Help yourself,” I said, opening the package. “Now, Lamar, have you given any thought to that light we saw? That’s what drew us to the house in the first place. If we hadn’t seen that, I would’ve just looked to see if there was a way down the hill, then gone back to the car and left. You wouldn’t have had to run to the highway or lose your scarf or anything else. And, best of all, they wouldn’t have known that we, I mean you, had been there.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, I heard the deputies talkin’ ’bout that—they never think I’m listenin’. But they all went runnin’ out there when the sirens went off an’ they checked the house inside an’ out an’ all they found was a turned-on computer in that back room. You know how the screen’ll light up when you touch something, then go out after it sets there awhile? Well, that’s what it was.”
“Then,” I said, loudly enough to startle him, “that means somebody was in the house!”
I was so shaken by the confirmation of what I’d suspected that I didn’t even wonder at Lamar’s seemingly intimate knowledge of a computer. But I’d already concluded that Lamar was smarter than he sounded.
“Well, no’m,” he said, shaking his head. “Not for sure, ’cause they was some trembles on the mountain back of them houses yesterday. That could’ve done it.”
I knew that we occasionally had a few minor earthquakes in the area, which created havoc with dishes and knickknacks and so forth if they were near the edge of a shelf. So a minor heave of the earth miles away could very well jar a computer to life.
“But, Lamar,” I said, “an earth tremble might light up a screen, but don’t tell me it could turn a computer on.”
“By dog, you’re right about that!” Lamar’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Don’t that mean somebody was in there while we was out there?”
“It certainly does, and I want to know who it was. We didn’t see a light anywhere else in the house, did we?”
He shook his head. “Not nowhere.”
“So,” I went on, “whoever it was must’ve known that house inside and out. I mean, to be able to move around in it in the dark, it had to be somebody who was familiar with it, don’t you think?”
“I sure do, ’cause it was blacker’n pitch inside. Outside, too, pretty much.”
We sat for a few minutes, thinking over what we’d seen and what it might’ve meant. I’d already come to my conclusion and waited to see if Lamar would come to the same one.
When he said nothing, I prodded him a little. “Who do you think it could’ve been?”
“Beats me,” he said, as I almost threw up my hands. “But,” he went on, “it couldna been no run-of-the-mill thief, ’cause we’d aheard him bumping into chairs an’ things. See, you can’t burgle a place you never been in before if you don’t got a flashlight or some kinda light without making some noise.”
“That’s right! So who do you think it was?”
“Oh, that’s easy. They pretty much always leave a deputy at a homicide. In case somebody wants to go messing around.”
They Lord! Why hadn’t he told me that before we went messing around?
“Lamar! I asked you while we were still in the car if a deputy would be there, and you said no.”
“No’m,” he said, shaking his head, “you asked me if I seen a deputy’s car, an’ I didn’t. And, ma’am, I didn’t know then what I found out later—that you was gonna go right up to that house. I tell you one thing, you got more nerve than I give you credit for.”
“Thank you, Lamar,” I said, recognizing the admiration in his voice. “I think.”
Chapter 41
Lamar’s eyes widened at the sound of crunching footsteps outside and the jingle of a key in the lock of the back door. I turned to look as the door swung open, and Lillian and Latisha, bundled to the eyeballs, walked in. They were both in heavy coats, mittens, boots, and headgear. Latisha wore a tasseled wool cap with a scarf wrapped around her head and face. Only her eyes were visible.
“Lillian!” I cried, getting to my feet. “Did you walk over here?”
“No’m,” she said, quickly shutting the door, “we come in the car till it slide up against the curb. Then we got out and walked. It’s slick out there.”
“And cold,” Latisha said, unwrapping her bright red scarf as Lamar eyed it with longing. “I almost froze my hiney off.”
“Latisha!” Lillian cried. “I don’t wanta hear that kinda talk.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am, I won’t say hiney no more.”
“Lemme get that coat offa you,” Lillian said, as she came out of hers. “Then you go on in yonder. You can watch Nickelodeon an’ nothin’ else. Miss Julia,” she said, turning to me, “I hope you don’t mind us just comin’ on over. The phone don’t work, an’ my neighbor say they so many without power that we won’t get it back till tomorrow night. An’ maybe not even then. An’ we already been cold and dark for more’n a hour.”
“Of course not, Lillian. You know you’re welcome anytime. Oh, and, Lillian, this is Mr. Lamar Owens. He, well, he was one of Sam’s campaign workers, and the ice caught him off guard, too.” No need to broadcast what else he’d been involved in.
Lillian gave him a warm smile, which Lamar returned with a nod of his head. “I better be goin’,” he said, standing. “Now you got comp’ny.”
“Sit right back down,” I said. “You can’t go out in this, and if Lillian can’t drive in it, I sure can’t. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us, Lamar.”
“Well, I don’t wanta be no trouble.”
“No trouble at all. We’ll . . .” The phone interrupted me, and I hurried to answer it.
“Miss Julia?” Hazel Marie said shakily. “We’re on our way over, if that’s all right. Everything’s out all over our street. The only thing working is my cell phone and the car. So far.”
“You’re driving?”
“Barely. The streets are so slick, we’re hardly moving.”
“Oh, Lord, Hazel Marie, be careful.” I could just see Lloyd and the little twin girls being thrown around in a skidding car. “Come on as fast as you can. No, I don’t mean go fast, but if you have to get out and walk, call me back. We’ll come meet you.”
After hanging up, I turned to Lillian. “If she has to leave the car, we’ll have to go help carry the babies.”
“I can help,” Lamar said.
Before I could answer, Lillian looked around and said, “Somebody cookin’ something?”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said, running to the oven. “That’s my supper. It’s probably burned up by now.”
Lillian moved me out of the way. “Lemme see.” Taking my overcooked chicken pot pie out of the oven, she said, “It’s a little crispy, but it’s prob’ly all right. Dependin’ on how hungry you are. I’ll put another one in for you.”
“No, don’t do that. If it’s edible at all, I’ll eat it. I can’t wait another hour.” Actually, I was about to cave in from hunger, Roberta’s quiche and pound cake long since gone and forgotten.
I ate it, sitting at the table with Lamar, who drank one cup of coffee after another and downed half a package of cookies as well. Lillian got Latisha ready for bed, but when she heard that Lloyd and the babies were on their way, she didn’t have going to sleep in mind.
By the time I’d eaten everything except the burned crust, I was worried about Hazel Marie. “Lillian,” I said, “they should be here by now. It’s only four blocks, for goodness sakes. You think we should go look for them?”
Lillian went to a side window and, putting her hands up to the glass, said, “I think they already here. ’Least, I see some car lights out on the street.”
And in they came, Hazel Marie carrying one heavily wrapped little girl and Lloyd the other, along with plastic bags full of whatever babies needed. It took forever to unwind all the blankets to reveal the little girls in their footed flannel pajamas. They blinked and squirmed in the bright kitchen lights, but, much to Latisha’s dismay, Hazel Marie and Lillian quickly started upstairs with them before they woke up completely.
“But I wanta play with ’em,” Latisha wailed.
“In the morning,” I said. “We’ll need you to be the babysitter and play with them then.”
“Come on, Latisha,” Lloyd said, heading back to the library. “Let’s watch television. Mr. Owens, you want to watch, too?”
Lamar glanced at me—for permission, I supposed. I nodded, and he happily followed them. I had introduced him to the newcomers, but Hazel Marie had been too busy to do more than smile at him, whereas Lloyd was instantly fascinated by my unusual visitor. It vaguely crossed my mind that I really didn’t know Lamar Owens, and here I was putting him up for the night in a house with my nearest and dearest. Except for Sam, of course. I decided not to dwell on the little I did know of him—none of it salubrious—because I couldn’t turn him out on such a night.
“We put them both in Lloyd’s bed,” Hazel Marie said when she and Lillian came downstairs. “And they went right back to sleep. I can hardly believe it.”
“We put chairs ’gainst the sides of the bed so they don’t fall off,” Lillian said, going straight for the coffeepot.
“Come sit down,” I said, “and let’s figure out where we’re all going to sleep. Lillian, you and Latisha will have your room, of course. Hazel Marie, can you sleep with the little girls?”
“Oh, yes, one or both of them crawl into bed with me most nights, anyway.”
“Okay, we’ll put a pallet on the floor for Lloyd. And I’ll put Lamar on the sofa in the library. That’ll work, won’t it?”
Well, it would have if Coleman, Binkie, and little Gracie hadn’t shown up. Coleman, in his uniform, apologized as soon as I opened the front door.
“Miss Julia, everybody’s been called on duty tonight, so I’ve brought my family to you.” He grinned. “I didn’t want them to freeze, and you and Mrs. Allen next door are the only ones I know who have generators.”
“Of course. I’m glad you came,” I said, holding the door for them. “Come in, Binkie. And Gracie, how are you? Run on back to the library, honey. Lloyd and Latisha are watching television and Lillian is about to fix some popcorn.”
There was a great shedding of coats, boots, and hats in the living room, accompanied by squeals of pleasure from the children and hugs of welcome between Binkie and Hazel Marie. I had a vague hope of finding a quiet place in the house to talk over my legal situation with Binkie, now that I knew about the back access to the Clayborn house. No need, of course, to tell her how I happened to know it. But since she was making an unheard-of house call, I might as well make use of it.
“Thanks, Miss Julia,” Coleman said as he kissed his wife and headed for the door. “I’ll try to rent that portable generator again—the one I had out on the sign. If I can get it, I’ll pick up my girls in the morning.” He stopped and smiled. “If we’re not on for twenty-four hours. Just about the whole county’s out of power, and sounds like half of the residents have had accidents. There’s one right down the street here—somebody’s car ended up on the sidewalk. Nobody in it, though.”
“Oh,” Hazel Marie said, “that was us. It just jumped the curb, and if it hadn’t been for that telephone pole, we might’ve slid on into Miss Julia’s front yard.”
“I’ll get it back in the street for you sometime tomorrow,” Coleman said as he went out the door. “Y’all stay warm.”
“Be careful,” Binkie called after him.
With the children and Lamar in the library watching television, the rest of us sat around the kitchen table to rearrange our sleeping plans. Lillian had popped corn for the children and offered sandwiches to anyone who was hungry. Lamar accepted, but the rest of us made do with coffee and cookies.
“Binkie,” I said, “you and Gracie can have my bed. I’ll put Lamar on a pallet in Sam’s upstairs office, and I’ll sleep on the sofa in the library.”
“No, ma’am, you will not,” she said. “I’m not about to take your bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa, and Gracie can sleep on a pallet beside me. She’ll love it.”
“I wanta sleep on a pallet,” Latisha said, having just come into the kitchen.
“Me, too,” Gracie said, following her in.
“I do, too,” Lloyd chimed in behind her.
“I tell you what let’s do,”
Binkie said, accustomed as she was to taking charge. “Let’s put all the children on pallets in the library, and I’ll sleep on the sofa to supervise. How would that work?”
“Oh, that’ll be good,” Hazel Marie said, “if you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa. But my girls better stay in bed with me. They’ll be toddling all over the house if they wake up and can’t find me.”
So it was arranged, and Lillian and I raided all the closets, gathering quilts and blankets and pillows for those who would be sleeping catch as catch can.
She and I were in the upstairs hall when she lowered her voice and said, “Miss Julia, Latisha an’ me can sleep on the floor, an’ somebody can have our bed.”
“No, Lillian, with this crew in the house, you’re going to have your hands full keeping us fed. You’ll need a decent night’s rest in a decent bed.” Then I leaned closer and whispered, “The only reason I offered mine is because I knew nobody would take it.”
Just as we got downstairs, our arms loaded with the makings of pallets, the telephone rang. Sam, I thought, and hurried to answer it.
“Julia?” Mildred whispered. “You’ll never guess who just showed up at my door asking if there was room in the inn.”
“Who?” I whispered back, although there was no need for it.
“Emma Sue and your pastor.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes, Mildred. I left word that they could come here, but, well, by now I have a house full. So I guess it’s just as well they didn’t.”
“Well,” Mildred said, “I was a little surprised they’d come to me, but I expect it was Emma Sue’s idea. Anyway, I thought you’d get a kick out of your minister coming to my house.”
“Uh-huh. How do you think she’s doing?”
“Oh, I’d say there’s a definite chill in the air. He tries to pamper and pet her, but she shrugs him off. Kind of touchy, seems to me, but I can’t stand all that hovering, either. So she seems pretty normal to me.” Then Mildred said, “Oops, got to go. They’re coming downstairs.”
