by Janette Oke
Her father passed his hand through his hair. “They—if he’s found guilty—we’ll try for the insanity plea.”
“Insanity?” Virginia felt outrage. “He’s not insane, Papa. Just because he’s … different. He’s not—”
“I know. I know. He’s not a danger to society. At least he never has been. But … but insanity means—well, it means many things. And if used—successfully—he will be sheltered. Protected. Given help.”
“But he will not be given freedom, will he? That’s what he needs. What he wants. Freedom.”
Her father looked tired, but he managed a smile. “Have you ever thought of being a lawyer, Virginia?” he asked teasingly.
For a moment Virginia stood, staring at the strange question. Then she understood his attempt to lighten the situation and compliment her in his own way. She was able to give him the hint of a smile in return.
“Well, I don’t think he did it,” she still pronounced.
“You think he was framed?”
“Framed?”
“Set up. Someone else placed the evidence in his room.”
Virginia thought about that. “Yes!” she exclaimed, excite? ment taking hold of her. “Yes. That’s it. He was framed.”
“Now—who would do that?”
Virginia sobered. She had no idea.
“And why? What would anyone gain by attacking such a harmless man?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
It was all such a puzzle. What if Rett really had done it? What if after all of the years of not even being interested in anything material he had suddenly taken some strange urge to accumulate? What if he was a little dangerous to society?
But she couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t accept it. It was all so totally contradictory.
“I don’t know,” she said again, sobered by the fact that it sounded as though Rett did indeed have a strong case against him.
“So what can we do?” she asked her father.
He reached out and took her hand. “Well … not much, I fear. On the legal front. But maybe a great deal—on the spiritual front. If Rett is not guilty—and I hope with all my heart that he is not—then we need to pray that God will somehow, in His wonderful and miraculous way, bring the truth to light.”
Virginia nodded solemnly.
“You pray. I’ll work on the case,” said her father.
It sounded simple.
“Trust God, Virginia,” her father went on. “He’s taken on tougher tasks—and been victorious.”
Her father was smiling again. But there was an underlying assurance in his voice, as well. She gave him a forced smile in return and withdrew her hand.
She turned to go. Suddenly she felt very tired. Drained of the excitement that had carried her through the wonderful day.
“What happened to your cheek?” her father’s voice stopped her.
Virginia turned. What could she say? What should she say? She could not lie.
“Jenny,” she said at last.
A frown. Then fatherly concern. “She was that angry?”
Virginia nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.
He leaned forward slightly. Virginia had never seen that look in his eyes before.
“Perhaps you need to reconsider that friendship,” he said firmly. “Anyone who strikes out in—”
“I’m not sure there is any friendship left to reconsider,” Virginia choked out through her tears. “Perhaps becoming friends again—with Jenny—would take an even bigger miracle than getting Rett pardoned.”
Virginia found it difficult to start back to school. Her mind was still churning over Rett, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some way to find an explanation for the stolen goods appearing in Rett’s room. And then there was the other matter of facing Jenny again. Jenny had not appeared at church on Sunday, and though Virginia had been disappointed, she had not been surprised.
But Jenny would be at school. Virginia was sure of that. They would share a classroom and meet in the halls. There would be no way for them to totally avoid each other.
Jamison would be at school, too. His final year. And even if he followed his past pattern of heading for the ball diamond at every school break, Virginia—and Jenny—would be sure to run in to him, as well. Virginia wondered if he had any idea of the trouble he had made between Jenny and her.
Virginia’s feet dragged as she neared the school steps. Francine urged her forward, a switch from the usual when Virginia had to prod the dreamy Francine.
“We’ll be late if you don’t hurry,” the young girl reminded, but Virginia did not hasten her steps. She did not want to arrive at school before the large bell began calling students to the classroom. She did not want to find herself face-to-face with Jenny—with no words to say.
“Go ahead,” she said to Francine and received a perplexed look in reply. But Francine did go ahead, breaking into a run after a few steps.
Virginia neared the school just as the bell began to announce its first ringing invitation. She had timed it just right.
Breathlessly she slid into a seat and laid her books on the desktop before her just as the teacher began to address the class. Virginia felt relieved. The first hurdle had been overcome.
But just as she began to relax, the thought came crashing in that there were many even more difficult hurdles that lay ahead.
Jamison did dash out to play ball with the other boys. Jenny seemed as intent on staying away from Virginia as Virginia was in avoiding her. The day passed with no major incident. Virginia, relieved, gathered her books and headed toward the door at the end of the first day. But she was just about to step onto the sidewalk at the front of the school when a movement to her left caught her attention.
There stood Jamison, books tucked under one arm, a smile lighting his face.
“Mind if I walk along?”
What could she say? She did not mind. Not one bit. But Jenny would mind. Terribly.
She gave one nod of her head, and Jamison fell into step beside her.
They walked in silence for half a block before Jamison spoke.
“Noticed you’re pretty quiet today.”
Her head came up. When had he been noticing her?
“Worried about something?”
Virginia nodded. She was worried. Not just about Jenny. More about Rett.
“I … I guess I am,” she admitted.
Silence.
“Want to talk about it?”
Virginia debated the answer she should give and decided to be open and truthful—at least in part.
“Rett Marshall. He’s been … locked up, you know.”
Jamison nodded. “I heard.” He didn’t sound particularly disturbed.
“He didn’t do it,” said Virginia, agitation coloring the words.
He looked at her then. “I don’t know him well. Just seen him wandering around.”
“My grandpa has known him since he was a baby. Grandpa doesn’t think he did it, either.”
Now she seemed to have Jamison’s full attention.
“It just doesn’t add up,” she went on, her disturbed thoughts giving her freedom.
“Yeah? How so?”
“He … he’s never cared about … things. Just birds and animals. He never even gathered pretty rocks—or flowers. And he never builds things. What would he want with a crescent wrench and a lathe?”
“Some people say the crow—”
“How could a crow transport an object that heavy?”
“A crescent wrench, you say? That’s true. Crow couldn’t haul that. I’d just heard of things like Mrs. Parker’s red pin and Mrs. White’s necklace. Bright stuff like that. They say crows like shiny things.”
Virginia nodded. She had heard that, too.
“Well, it doesn’t add up. I’d like to—”
He turned to her, a glint in his eyes. “You wanna play detective?”
“Me?”
“Sure. Somebody’s got to get to the bottom of i
t.”
“I couldn’t—I wouldn’t even know how to go about it.”
“But you think he’s innocent—you want to help him.”
She nodded her yes on both counts.
“Then why don’t we see what we can find out?”
She wondered if she understood his question correctly. Was he suggesting that they work on it together? She looked at him. “I’m not sure. My father is trying to help him, and … and I don’t know if he would appreciate me snooping around.”
“Then perhaps I’ll have to do the snooping. You sort out whatever I find.”
She stopped and turned to him. “You’re serious?”
“Totally.”
She was still hesitant.
“I … I just don’t know. Papa said we should pray.”
“We can do that, too.”
Of course they could.
“It’s just that …” She began to walk again, and he matched her steps. “I have this strange feeling about all this. I keep thinking that it is somehow tied in with the accident.”
“What accident?”
“At the creek.”
“The rafting?” He sounded incredulous.
But she held to her opinion. “Ever since then the Crells have vowed to get back at Rett for not saving Freddie.”
He nodded slowly. He had heard some of the rumors. “I guess they were pretty angry, all right. But you don’t think they would go so far as to do something—unlawful—do you?”
“I don’t know. Mr Crell was awfully mad.”
He shook his head. “It sounds pretty vicious. Setting up an innocent man just because—”
“Maybe they still don’t think he was innocent. Maybe they have convinced themselves that Rett really could have saved Freddie. Papa says that the mind and emotions can play some terrible tricks.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Look—maybe we’d better just stay out of it. Just pray—like Papa says.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I’d never make a good detective.” He grinned. “Besides, I’d never have the time. My folks keep me too busy choring.”
Virginia managed a smile. She was sure they had made the right decision.
But her mind still could not put the matter to rest. She was sure that something was awfully wrong about this whole theft charge.
CHAPTER 20
Grandpa, may I join you?”
Virginia stood before her grandfather on the back porch of the farmhouse. The day was warm, but to Virginia it somehow held the promises of a coming fall with its cooler weather. Perhaps it was the colors that made the suggestion. Already the nearby trees were showing some changes from the summer dress of green, and her grandmother’s fall flowers were in full bloom in the nearby garden. Her grandfather smiled and patted the seat beside him.
“Where are the other men?” she asked as she lowered herself. It was not often that her grandfather was left alone on a Sunday afternoon.
“Playing horseshoes. I told them I needed a break from all the chatter.”
“Then maybe I—”
“No, no. Sit down. I jest meant male chatter.”
Her grandfather’s words were no longer slurred. Except for the hesitation of his hand to do his bidding, one would have never known that he had suffered a stroke.
“Since the stroke,” he confided softly, as though it was their little secret, “I sometimes need me a little alone time. Brain gets tired trying to keep up.”
He tapped his forehead and grinned.
Virginia smiled.
“You’re doing real well,” she said and laid her hand on his arm.
“Something on yer mind?”
She drew in a deep breath and turned to look at him.
“Rett,” she said simply.
He nodded. “Yeah, it troubles me somethin’ awful, too. I been to see him agin Friday. He looks … looks jest … jest caged.”
She had been to see him, too. She went with Danny, who took the crow over to see his master after school every day. Her father said he thought it was the only thing that kept the man sane.
“I don’t think he did it. I … I have tried to … take him a few things. Just to make him more comfortable. He looks at them and smiles, or looks confused, and then shoves them right back under the bars again. Why would a person like that … steal something?” asked Virginia.
“I don’t know.”
“And why would he hide them in among his socks? He wouldn’t even open drawers. Mrs. Kruz had to go in and lay out clean clothes and tell him to make a change. She tried and tried to teach him to open the drawer, pull out the clean things, and do the changing on his own. He wouldn’t.”
“You’ve talked to Mrs. Kruz?”
“I … I—sort of. I know I’m to stay out of it. But Papa let me go over to get Rett some clean things. They had to insist that he change at the jail, too.”
They sat silent, sharing deep, troubled thoughts.
“I still think someone else put the things there.”
“That would be a terrible thing to do—an’ awful hard to prove, I’m thinkin’.”
“I tried to talk Papa into speaking to the sheriff. Getting him to release Rett and then watch.”
“You mean set a trap.”
“Not really a trap, but sort of. I mean, if someone else has done it, it would likely happen again. Especially if they thought that the courts were not convinced it was Rett.”
“What did your pa say?”
“He said the court did not believe in playing games.”
“I don’t s’pose.”
“But Papa is filing a petition to get Rett released until the trial date. He says there is no need to hold him in jail until he is proven guilty. If Papa is successful, that would accomplish about the same thing.”
“That would be a blessin’. I don’t think the boy is even eatin’ in there.”
Virginia noticed the use of the term “boy.” Just like most of the neighborhood, her grandfather still thought of the man as a boy. Virginia guessed that no matter how old Rett became, he would be thought of as a boy right up until the time the grave took him.
“He eats my cookies when I take them,” she said.
“A man cannot live on cookies alone,” quipped her grandfather.
“I still think it has something to do with that creek accident,” Virginia maintained.
“Yer pa and I have talked about thet. I have the same feelin’. He says he has dug into all the past records and can’t find any link.”
“Perhaps they are not in the records.”
“Ya mean—maybe there were some facts thet didn’t come out.”
Virginia nodded.
“Well, it were a bit scrambled, but the courts seemed content thet they had pieced it together pretty good at the time. Most of the stories fit.”
“Maybe someone is just using that accident to sort of … sort of implicate Rett to cover their own tracks.”
Her grandfather looked thoughtful. “You might have something there. But what could anyone possibly gain by havin’ the man put away?”
“I have no idea. I’ve tried and tried to figure it out.”
Her grandfather placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her close. “Yer pa is working on it. I think he stays up nights tryin’ to sort it through. Rett couldn’t have anybody better on his case.”
“I know that.” Virginia had confidence in her father. Knew how hard he was working to try to find some way to have the charges dropped. But it seemed as though every new thought led to a stone wall.
Though not exactly friends again, Jenny did start speaking to Virginia now and then. She had found a new friend in Trina Hughes and probably wanted to impress Virginia with that fact. The two tittered and whispered and took to flirting with some of the older boys. Jamison was not in the new little pack. Jenny seemed to have given up, at least momentarily, on Jamison. But he had never given her much encouragement.
“We’re going to The
Sweet Shop, wanna come?” Jenny surprised Virginia by asking as school was letting out for the day.
Virginia was tempted to give a quick no, but she was still praying for Jenny. Perhaps this would open the door a crack again. There seemed to be no harm in a little trip to The Sweet Shop.
“I’ll have to pop into Papa’s office to see if it’s all right.” She thought quickly. “Then I could send a note home with Francine,” she answered.
Jenny shrugged. “No problem. We can wait.”
“You won’t have to wait. You go on ahead, and I’ll catch you there.”
“Fine.” Then Jenny added as though it was an afterthought, “Wanna ask Jamison?”
There it was again. Jenny was using her to get to Jamison.
Virginia opened her mouth to say she’d had a change of plans when she heard another voice.
“Ask Jamison what?” Jamison was beside her.
Jenny gave one of her most fetching smiles.
“We’re going to The Sweet Shop. Would you like to join us?”
Virginia could not now change her plans.
“Sure,” said Jamison without hesitation. “When?”
“Now.” It was Jenny who continued the exchange.
“Can’t now. Don’t have any money with me.”
“I’ll lend you—”
But Jamison was shaking his head. “‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’” he quoted.
“Join us tomorrow then,” decided Jenny.
“We’ll do that,” replied Jamison and reached for Virginia’s books. He was speaking for both of them.
Virginia felt relief. Yet agitation. Now she would be able to ask her mother ahead of time and get her permission. On the other hand, what was Jenny planning now? She knew that the girl had some scheme in mind.
“My pa is gonna scour this whole town to get to the bottom of this Loony Marshall thing,” Jenny said the next day after they had all purchased their sodas and gathered around the room’s largest table.
Virginia felt her eyes widen. Was that what this was all about?
“So, what’s to figure?” asked Sammie. “The guy was caught with the goods.”
Jenny nodded. “But some folks”—she said the words with emphasis, giving Virginia a challenging look as she did so—“still think that loony fella is innocent.”
