Covenant

by Ann McMan

  Michael slapped his spoon down on the stainless steel countertop. “Why can’t people just mind their own goddamn business?”

  “Don’t you blaspheme in front of me, boy.” Nadine shook her knife at him. “I don’t like it no more’n you do. But these hateful people’ve always been among us, and they ain’t gonna be silenced anytime soon. Not since that idiot mayor and his unholy flock of followers got a big damn megaphone. Now, half the people in this county think they have a God-given right to spew hate-speak right out loud in public.”

  “It makes me sick, Nadine. I thought I left all this behind in damn South Carolina. And I’ve never seen abject bigotry accepted and treated as gospel anyplace like it was there. My mama nearly lost her job at the mill because I had a Black classmate come over and spend the night at our house. We were kids . . . not even ten years old.” He made a disgusted grunt. “I thought I left that all behind when I came here.”

  “Bigotry ain’t never left behind, boy. Sometimes it hides its face, but it’s always there. It don’t matter where you are. It’s gonna be right there—simmerin’ away like that damn rabbit you’re stewing. The only thing that ever makes it get gone is ridding the world of vermin like that godforsaken mayor. They’re the dangerous ones—the ones who rise up to positions of power. The ones who use their elected offices or, God help us, their church pulpits to spread their lies and hatred. The ones who use their words to make people afraid of their neighbors—afraid and suspicious of people they been knowing for years. That mayor and people like him are the ones who gave people like Nelda Rae permission to let their worst selves crawl back out of the darkness—and we’re all gonna pay the price for it. You ask me, whoever took that man out did this county a service.”

  Michael was rattled by her declaration.

  “Do you really think somebody killed him? That his death wasn’t an accident?”

  “Count on it.”

  Nadine’s words chilled him to the bone.

  Mostly because he knew she was right, and that admission scared the crap out of him.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  That night at supper, Maddie filled in Syd on her meetings with Lizzy and Avi.

  They were having sloppy joes—one of Henry’s favorites. Maddie had been surprised that Syd was treating Henry to another special meal, coming right on the heels of their café outing—but she wasn’t going to complain.

  She loved sloppy joes, too.

  And she didn’t protest when Syd conscripted her to peel potatoes for the oven-baked fries. The happy departure from their usual weekday fare, which invariably included at least two vegetables from the list of foods she loathed, made her more than amenable to helping out with any kitchen task.

  Henry sat at the kitchen table, finishing his homework while they completed preparations for the meal. He’d occasionally interrupt them to ask for help with an arithmetic problem or a question about how to use a vocabulary word in a sentence.

  “Absorb. A-B-S-O-R-B,” Syd explained. “It’s a verb that means to take in or to suck up. Like a sponge absorbs water, or the way Uncle David absorbs Maddie’s wine.”

  Henry giggled.

  Maddie glowered at her. “I don’t think that’s the meaning they had in mind.”

  “Who cares? It works.”

  “Don’t write that one down, Henry.” Maddie plucked another potato from the bag. “It’s not a correct usage for the word.”

  “How do you spell usage?” Henry asked.

  “U-S . . .” Maddie began, before thinking better of it. “Never mind. Just go with that whole sponge idea.”

  Syd examined Maddie’s pile of peeled potatoes. “I don’t think we need any more of those.”

  “Just a couple more.”

  “Maddie, you already have about three pounds peeled.”

  “So? We like French fries. Don’t we, Henry?”

  Henry nodded enthusiastically. “Can I have ketchup and mustard with mine?”

  Maddie gave Syd a smug smile. “He learned that from me.”

  “I know. He also learned leaving his dirty socks on the bathroom floor from you.”

  “My socks are rarely dirty.”

  “Unfortunately, we cannot say the same for Mini Me over there.”

  Maddie reluctantly surrendered the bag of potatoes to Syd, who promptly restored it to the pantry and quickly sliced the potatoes into fry-shaped planks with the food processor.

  “Are you going to tell me how the conversation with Lizzy went?” she asked when she’d finished.

  “Yeah.” Maddie hauled a stool over to the kitchen counter and sat down on it. “I think she was genuinely unprepared for the offer. She seemed undone by it. Gratified but cautious.”

  “You mean she didn’t immediately accept?” Syd looked surprised. “I was certain she’d jump at it. We both know how much she loves it here.”

  “I know. That’s what I thought, too. But there’s a fly in the ointment.”

  Syd was now browning the ground turkey with a bit of diced onion. It smelled heavenly. A mixture of spices and some chopped tomatoes sat beside the range in a glass bowl.

  “What kind of fly?” she asked.

  “The Tom-shaped kind.”

  Syd threw her head back and gazed at the ceiling. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What now?”

  “It seems he has a job offer—in Colorado. And before you ask, Lizzy told me about this, but Peggy supplied most of the details.”

  “Of course, she did. That woman should hang out a shingle.”

  “Yeah.” Maddie snagged a piece of cut potato and shook some salt onto it before popping it into her mouth. “I think she got the skinny from Coralee Minor. Apparently Lizzy and Tom had dinner at Waffle House, and Coralee overheard their conversation.”

  “Remind me to always pull my jobs out of town.”

  “It’s a deal. Anyway, Tom got a job offer and he wants Lizzy to go with him. I gather this is the reason for her hesitation.”

  “Do you think she’ll go with him?”

  Maddie shrugged. “Who knows? I can’t venture a guess until she tells me about it.”

  “Tom.” Syd sighed with disgust. “He just can’t get it right.”

  “What do you mean? Maybe they’ve talked about it. Maybe Lizzy wants to go with him. Maybe he’s learned that he needs to include her in his plans.”

  “Yeah? And maybe Rosebud, your tuxedo-cat-shaped nemesis, has learned that pooping on your tools is a bad idea, too.”

  Henry giggled again. “Syd said poop.”

  “Do your homework,” Maddie and Syd ordered in unison. Henry dutifully complied.

  “Look,” Maddie continued. “You know we can’t mention this to anyone, right? Not until Lizzy and Tom have time to sort it out.”

  “Maddie . . .”

  “I know, I know.” Maddie held up a hand to halt her tirade. “I apologize. It’s a function of my own guilt and trepidation about spreading idle gossip.”

  “Well, for my part, I think it’s more than idle gossip. This sounds exactly like something my brother would do. If he messes up royally like he did before, there’ll be no coming back from it. And I, for one, will not try to help him. He needs to learn that sometimes there are no do-overs. And if you ask me, this could be one of those times.”

  “Maddie?” Henry asked. “What’s 39 + 8 - 12?”

  “It’s . . .” Maddie hesitated for a moment before appealing to Syd.

  “Seriously?” Syd faced Henry. “Thirty-five.”

  “Thanks.” Henry erased something on his paper and carefully wrote down the correct answer. “I’m all finished, now.”

  “Good. I’ll check it over for you after supper. Now run upstairs and wash your hands.”

  “Okay, Syd.” Henry pushed back his chair and started for the back stairs.

  “Henry.” Syd stopped him. “Pick up your homework first, and take it to your room.”

  Henry dutifully collected his books and papers and dashed to the stairs.


  “Don’t run, Sport!” Maddie called after him. But she was too late. Henry had already disappeared from view. She looked back at Syd with a sorrowful expression. “There are too many rules in this joint.”

  “I would only amend your statement to add that there are too many rules in this joint that go ignored.”

  “That is not my fault.”

  “The anthem of the unrepentant.”

  Maddie stole another potato.

  “Quit eating those.” Syd slapped at her hand, but Maddie yanked her treat out of reach. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”

  “Fat chance. Not when we’re having reality-based food.”

  “How is it possible for you to have an IQ in the quintuple digits, but stubbornly cling to a preteen palate?”

  “Because I’m a marvel of science?”

  Syd looked her over. “I won’t disagree that there are many marvelous things about you, my dear. But your dietary proclivities would not be among them.”

  “You’re just jealous because I’m taller.” Maddie ate her potato. “Oh, I invited Avi to come out for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Good. I hope she will.” Syd brightened up. “Why not invite Lizzy, too? It’ll give those two a chance to get to know each other better—especially since Avi’s going to be in the clinic part of each week.”

  “Great idea.” Maddie agreed. “Maybe Lizzy can give her a ride out here?”

  “That’ll work. Dorothy is coming home with Henry after school tomorrow, and will stay the night. If both Avi and Lizzy are here, that’ll give them an easy and casual introduction.”

  “Mom had the same idea—at least with regard to Avi.” Maddie smiled. “I guess this means Mom is getting a booty call tomorrow night?”

  Syd’s eyes widened. She made a rapid slashing gesture beneath her neck. “What’s the matter with you?” she whispered.

  Maddie jerked a thumb toward the upstairs. “He can’t hear us. He’s got the bathroom water running full blast . . . it’s probably over the sink and halfway down the hall by now.”

  “I reiterate: Mini Me.”

  “Very funny. At least he seemed a little more engaged tonight.”

  “You noticed that, too? I was beginning to think maybe we needed Avi to finagle a way to talk with him, as well.”

  “Not a bad idea. Whatever has been on his mind, he’s not going to share it with us.”

  “I know. I wonder if he’ll talk with James about it?”

  “Maybe. When’s their next FaceTime chat?”

  “Sunday. I think we should give James a heads-up and contrive a way to leave them alone to talk.”

  “Good idea,” Maddie agreed. “I just hope he’s not getting flak at school.”

  “At school? Flak about what?”

  “Take your pick. Watson might be gone, but he cast a long shadow. Henry’s churlish teacher, Hozbiest, and the legions like him won’t just fade into the woodwork. The whole community knows that Henry is living with two women now. And not just any two women—an out lesbian couple. I want to be sure he isn’t getting bullied or intimidated by anyone.”

  “Dear god. I hope that’s not happening.”

  “Me, too. But I think we have to be prepared for the possibility.”

  “People can be such cowards.” Syd slowly shook her head. “Why do they direct their fear and ignorance at children?”

  “It’s a shitty system, to be sure.”

  “Everything Dorothy is going through . . . everything she’s already been through—it just makes me furious. And sick at heart. I just want to rage against it.”

  “I know, honey. None of it is right. None of it makes sense. We all have to be better than this.”

  “How can we keep failing to protect them? And how do we make these horrors stop happening to them?”

  Maddie got up and wrapped her arms around Syd from behind.

  “We have to be brave enough to call it out when it happens, and to face it openly. We have to be willing to say its name out loud, and to show we’re not afraid to stand up against it. That’s the only way to take away its power.”

  Syd leaned into her. “It scares me, Maddie. It scares me for Dorothy—and for Henry. For all of the children who stand to inherit this legacy of ignorance and fear.”

  “I know. It scares me, too. But we have each other. And we have good people like Avi who can help us find the right vocabulary to fight back.”

  They heard the sound of Henry’s footsteps thundering down the hallway above them.

  Maddie kissed Syd’s head and stepped back. “Okay. So, where do you want me?”

  “Where?” Syd turned and gave her a small smile. “I want you right where you always are—hanging on to my last, best hope.”

  Maddie smiled back at her.

  “I think I can do that.”

  Chapter Three

  Recorded Interview

  Preliminary Inquest Investigation

  Death of Mayor Gerald Watson

  “I’m Curtis Dwayne Freemantle. That’s D-W-A-Y-N-E. Me and my wife, Edna, run the market here in Jericho. I was at the river all day with my family, down by the water where we always set up to watch the fireworks. I only heard about what happened when Sheriff Martin called Charlie Davis on her radio, and told her to meet him at the water. Charlie told us there’d been some kind of ruckus involving the mayor.”

  I don’t know why they’re asking all these questions of everybody. We all know the whole town is better off with that man gone. Nobody cares about how it happened. We’re all just relieved.

  “We didn’t see that argument he had with David Jenkins before the debate. We only heard about it later from Nadine Odell.”

  Nadine said she’d never seen David act the way he did that day. She said he was like a scared animal who just wanted to run away and hide. She said nobody knew where he went when he disappeared—not even Michael.

  “No. Nadine said she didn’t see David again until right before the fireworks. She said his partner, Michael, ran off to try and follow him.”

  I’m not saying anything about Michael not being able to find David. Nobody thinks David could ever hurt anybody. That idea is just crazy.

  “It’s true that Watson came into the market the week before and had words with . . . well . . . with just about everybody who was in there. When I told him to leave, he even attacked my daughter. Me and Edna couldn’t stand for that. Roma Jean is a good girl.”

  If you’re looking for suspects, you’re pretty much gonna have to interview the whole town. That man made enemies everywhere he went.

  “He went after Roma Jean because she’s . . . special friends with Charlie Davis, that deputy sheriff. He called her terrible names, too. That’s just not right. Roma Jean and Charlie aren’t hurting nobody.”

  Dear lord. I hope they don’t think I went after Watson to get even for what he said about Roma Jean. If I’d wanted to hurt him, I’d a done it that day in the market—not a week later.

  “No sir, I don’t know anybody who would’ve tried to do harm to that man. Most folks didn’t care enough about him to try and plan anything like that. He was a big ole bad penny, and everybody just wished he’d pack up and go away.”

  But we all know he’s never gonna go away. Not now. He’s gonna keep right on messin’ in everybody’s life—one damn interview at a time.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Charlie and Byron were having breakfast at Aunt Bea’s. They did this every Friday.

  The worst of the rain had moved out, but there still had been a light drizzle falling. Even with that, the small restaurant was close enough to their office that they could walk over. But Byron was a stickler about protocol, so they always took their patrol cars. He said they never knew when a call might come in and they had to be ready to jump up and go. That had actually happened a few times, too. Last week, two cars had slid in some pooled water on the bridge over Little Wilson creek, and run into each other. One of the vehicles, a pickup belonging to Al Hawkes, ha
d gone into the water. Nobody was hurt, but it took a couple of hours for Junior to get there from Troutdale and haul the thing out.

  Al was in the restaurant this morning—just like he was every Friday. He was still driving Junior’s loaner car, too. The yellow Cutlass Ciera was parked out front, commando style. Charlie figured that was because the winch on the front of Junior’s Cutlass stuck out too far, and crowded the sidewalk near the entrance.

  Al always got to Aunt Bea’s early, so he could lay claim to the best parking spot. In Jericho, that eighteen-foot piece of real estate was one of the most coveted in town.

  Charlie and Byron ordered their combo breakfast plates and sat down in their usual spot: the big corner booth that afforded them a clear sight line across the square toward the entrance to their office.

  Byron seemed to be in an especially good mood this morning. Charlie guessed that was because it was Friday, and Dr. Heller usually stayed at his house on Friday nights. Of course, Charlie only knew that because Roma Jean had told her that Dorothy tended to spend Friday nights with Henry at Dr. Stevenson’s farm—and that meant sometimes they’d both ride out on the bookmobile with her on Saturdays.

  While they ate breakfast, Byron had been filling her in on the progress of the inquest on Gerald Watson’s death.

  Nobody was officially calling it anything other than an accident. Not yet, anyway. The full autopsy report hadn’t yet come in from the Western District Medical Examiner. The immediate report showed only that Watson died by drowning. Byron said the final reports sometimes took as long as eight to ten weeks—it just depended on the workload in the district ME’s office. The full autopsy would tell them exactly how Watson died, and whether or not there were any signs of misadventure or foul play.

  So far, investigators from Roanoke had only interviewed a couple of the dozen or so people they wanted to talk with. Charlie wasn’t sure how they arrived at their final list. When she asked Byron about it, he explained that they often started with just one or two people, and the list expanded from the leads they got in other conversations.