“Because it is a sore that will not heal for a lot of people in Jefferson County, I think it is an open wound for you, too. I also believe you know more than you are saying.”
“Momma told you to stay away from Ms. Pearl.”
“Pearl is being wrongly accused. If you know who did it, you need to speak up, Carrie.”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
He sipped his coffee, still staring into my eyes, waiting for me to blink or move. Lawyers were like detectives. They had been trained in getting to the truth. But, there was no truth to get to. I didn’t want to talk about Herman. Besides, he had gotten what he deserved. Abusers should be punished.
“I have spoken to a lot of people since I’ve been in Jefferson County. I even met Herman’s brother, who is also searching for his killer.”
I looked at him. “What do any of this have to do with me?”
“Carrie, Momma told me the entire story about you and Camm.”
“There is nothing to tell. You say it like we had a love affair or something.”
“I know what he did to you and if he had done that to me, I’d want revenge too.”
“Do you think I killed him?”
“I’m not sure who did him in. I know I am sorry for what he did to you. I probably would have killed him myself if I had been home.”
“There was not one thing nice about our stepfather. He was as close to a snake as anybody I knew. If you want to find his killer, you might start by having a candid talk with your client. Ms. Pearl knew him probably better than Momma. He was not the man we thought he was. He was not a good man, John.” My eyes welled up and tears flowed from them.
John got up from the table and put his arm around my shoulder. “Sis, if you know what happened, please tell me.”
I pulled away from him and shouted, “I don’t know anything about his killer! How many times do I have to tell you this!?”
“Calm down.”
“You’ve been in Jefferson for weeks now. Couldn’t you find the killer? I’ll answer for you. Nobody cared enough to tell.”
“I talked to Jake, the bartender; Earl, his friend; the preacher and Ms. Pearl. All of them could account for their whereabouts. Pearl thought she did it, until they found him shot to death.”
“Until he was shot to death…so that means she tried.”
“The cuts were not deep enough to kill him. It was more like a deep scratch, according to the sheriff. We know a shotgun killed him.”
“Why do you care who killed him, John?”
“I care now for the sake of my family. You and Simon could go to jail for this crime if the sheriff got his way.”
“We didn’t do it.”
“Well, help me figure out who did.”
I began by telling him how Mr. Camm treated me, how he followed behind me and made advances toward me whenever Momma was away. He listened intently, at times jotting down words on a writing tablet. I told him how I feared my own home, and then he asked, “Why didn’t you tell somebody?”
“I couldn’t. Remember how everyone treated Miss Topsie. The entire county turned against her, even the people at church. I didn’t want that to happen to me.”
“You had me.”
“I know. I didn’t know what to do. If I could live my life over, it would be different. No matter what happened, I didn’t kill him.”
“Did Simon do it?
“I don’t think so,” I answered, just as Simon walked through the door.
Before he spoke to me, he said, “John, what are you doing here?”
“I came by to see Carrie. I’m on my way back to D.C.”
Simon kissed me on the forehead and reached down to pick up Robert who was playing on the floor.
“How long are you going to be here?”
“I’m leaving in an hour or so.”
“You ought to at least stay for dinner.”
Simon put Robert back down and pulled out a chair at the table. He went into the ice box and poured himself a glass of water. And then, he sat down.
John fumbled with his bow tie, adjusting it in a perfect line. He had always been a little finicky about his looks. He had often said, “Appearances are important.” Afterward, he sipped his coffee, which was getting cold.
“Simon, what do you know about Camm’s murder?”
“The cat got what he deserved,” Simon declared. He hated it when people would bring up Herman Camm. He disliked the small talk as much as I did.
John paused for a moment. “Let me ask, did you do it? Did you kill him?”
Simon shook his head. “Hell, no! I didn’t do it, but I wanted to. Somebody got to him before I could. That lowdown sucker had wronged a lot of people. Everybody in the damn town wanted him dead, including me.”
“Jake at the bar said you stopped by the night he died.”
“I was looking for him. But Jake claimed he was not in the place. I had the feeling Jake or Earl was covering up for him. So, I drove off.”
“You sure you didn’t do it.”
“I looked for him that night. If I had found him, you wouldn’t have recognized him. I would have beaten his ass to death. I was mad as hell. I drove around town, but no one knew where he was, so I left.”
John listened, his eyes shifting from Simon to me. He was analyzing us, trying to figure out if we were telling the truth.
“If y’all didn’t do it, then who did do it?” he asked in a serious tone.
I shook my head. Simon said, “When you hurt a lot of folk, anybody could be guilty of taking you out. Camm had a lot of enemies, so I hear.”
“Who were they?” he asked.
“I thought you were a lawyer, not the sheriff. We don’t know who wanted him dead. Furthermore, why do you care? What has Ms. Pearl done to you?” I raised my voice.
“I don’t want my family to be charged and nobody is in Jefferson to defend them. The sheriff is not going to contact a lawyer on behalf of a colored man. I want him to leave my family members alone.”
“Me too! Every time I go home, I expect to hear something about this murder. Camm is the only colored man ever to get this much attention. White folk don’t care. The sheriff is just trying to find someone to hang.”
John gazed at Simon. “Do you have anything else to say?”
Simon stared back. “Why don’t you find the shotgun and then maybe you will find the killer. You done talked to the entire town already.”
John put his writing pad back in his briefcase. Then his faced softened. He reached down and picked up Robert who was pulling up at his leg. “I’ve got to get going. Carrie, take good care of my nephew.”
“Are you going to let this go?” I asked him.
“Yes, there is no reason for the sheriff to harass my family. I have to remember though, he is white.”
Chapter 24
Mrs. Hall and I spent an entire day stringing popcorn and setting out red and white candles for the holiday. First, we put a wreath of pine cones and holly on the front door, and then put up, in our apartment, the cedar Christmas tree Simon brought home, and decorated it with popcorn, and a special stocking for little Robert. All down Broad Street ornaments and lights adorned the merchants’ windows. It was exciting, and the brisk winter nights were luminous and bright. On some nights, we could hear the church bells ringing from a distance. It was festive. Even the horses and buggies going up and down the streets were decorated. My first Christmas away from home, and I wanted it to be special.
I invited everyone I knew to dinner including my friend Adam Murphy. I had run into him one day in the city. All week I had been thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, and if he had traveled back home to the Chesapeake area for the holiday. It was strange how he had remained in my thoughts. It was cold the day I saw him. He was walking down Broad Street alone, his collar turned up and a cap on his head.
“Carrie!” he shouted, as I turned the corner toward the children’s store.
I knew the vo
ice and a smile rippled across my face. It was a frigid day and I had been fighting the wind all the way down the street.
“I didn’t think I would see you again,” he said, grinning like I was funny-looking or something.
“Why are you looking like that?” I asked him, pulling my wool coat close to my body.
“I guess I’m happy to see you. How have you been doing?”
We stood close to the entryway of the building, letting the building shield us from the wind on all sides.
“I’m doing good,” I said, watching the crowd dart in and out of the building, the cars parking and the horses and buggies trotting around the corner. With each step the horses took, the bells around the horses’ necks rang. It was symmetry of trots and bells.
A gush of wind sent chills up my spine. I started to shiver and my teeth chattered. The temperature, combined with the wind, was fierce. “Let’s step inside out of the weather,” I suggested.
Adam opened the door and we stepped inside. The first thing he said was, “I hope everything is working out for you and your husband.”
“We’re fine; how about you?” I asked him.
“I’m going to be here for the holiday. I can’t afford to go home. I am working and I can’t get off from work. You know the hotels never close.” I remembered when he got that job. He had written me a letter with all the details.
“Where are you going for Christmas?”
“I’m going to try to make a pie at home,” he said, smiling.
I suppose I was grinning too, since I had not seen him in over a month, almost two. He was my first school friend, and was instrumental in helping me find my way to school.
“Well, if you want to, you can come eat with us,” I said before realizing it.
“I don’t want to get you in any trouble. Your husband has already threatened me.”
“He thought we had something going on then. Now he knows we were just good friends.”
“Was that all, Carrie?” he asked.
I was a bit embarrassed by his comment, so guarded my tongue, trying not to open up too much. We were friends, but more.
“I had better finish shopping. I need to get back home.”
He gazed at me, fixing his eyes directly on mine. It was scary, since I caught myself enjoying the connection.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, breaking the stare.
His smile dissolved. “You take care of yourself.” And in a blink, he turned and walked back into the wind.
I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts the entire day. I purchased Robert a little wooden fire truck for Christmas and Simon some socks. It was all I could afford from the household cash jar. All the way home, I thought about the walks with Adam, about sitting on the steps of the administration building talking for hours, mainly about our dreams.
Before Robert was ever thought about, Simon and I would have long talks under the tree in the schoolhouse yard. We loved the time under the tree. We would kiss and hold hands and pretend like we were the only two people in the whole world. I loved the feeling. It was the same when I first came to Richmond. At night, we would lie in bed, Simon sharing his dreams of being a Negro Leaguer and scoring more runs than Pete Hill. Even though he still sent hot flashes through my body, there was something wrong. I felt he was keeping a secret from me. I was too afraid to inquire, not sure I really wanted to know what it was. I hoped it went away.
Mrs. Hall and I cooked Christmas Eve. She cooked the mashed potatoes, and I did the turkey, dressing, turnips and sweet potato pies. Instead of the light rolls Momma usually made, I did biscuits, something I knew how to cook.
Nadine came over with a cake she had baked. She was no guest of mine. However, she’d managed to plead to Mrs. Hall’s emotion and she invited her and the children.
Mrs. Hall replaced her Northern sophistication and appeared to have embraced the Southern hospitality. It was Christmas Day. From the moment she opened the door, I could smell the aroma from the cedar Christmas tree, and the apple cider steaming on the stove. She had a smile from ear to ear. A white woman in an apron was a first for me. Every white woman I knew strolled around the house behind the help making sure there was no missing fine china or silver, and occasionally sliding a finger across the furniture searching for dust. But, for some odd reason, the whites trusted coloreds with their food. To me, food would have been the only way to get back at some of them for the insensitive and nasty ways white folks delivered to coloreds every day of their life. I even knew a few colored people who had laughed about adding a little pee or spit spice to the food before serving dinner. Ginny had said, “They would eat like it was the best-tasting food, and all I could do was smile inside. Now, I’s know it was wrong, but at the time, I didn’t care. I changed when they started asking me to take the leftovers home for dinner. I couldn’t throw away good food, so I stopped adding the spice.”
Little Robert’s eyes danced at the sight of the people and food. Mrs. Hall had invited the entire community, it appeared: Nadine and her two children, the corner store merchant, Simon and me. I saw Nadine, and told myself to ignore her.
“Hey, Simon and Carrie!” Nadine shouted out.
“Merry Christmas!” Simon answered, and I waved.
“Have a seat,” Nadine coaxed as if she was the woman of the house. I scanned the room for Jessie, and he was not around.
Mr. Hall was sitting at a table in the corner stacking dominoes in zigzag lines. Mrs. Hall was in the kitchen. Although the aroma was enticing, I worried about Mrs. Hall’s ability to cook food. This was my first holiday away from Jefferson County. The last Christmas home had been painful. Momma had delivered Robert. She was stunned. How could I be with child and she not know? It is what happens when you stop paying attention to your own business. It was the night she found out Herman Camm had stolen my youth and her life.
Nadine scooted over on the davenport, patting the seat so I could sit down. I sat down beside her, but Simon didn’t sit. Instead, he pulled a chair up at the card table, where Mr. Hall was stacking dominoes.
“You want to play?” Mr. Hall asked him.
“Why not? I might as well whip you while the evening is young.”
“You sure talk a lot of shit for someone who is getting ready to get beat on Christmas Day.” They both chuckled.
Mrs. Hall called from the kitchen, “Nadine, why don’t you come in the kitchen?”
“I was going to sit here with Carrie. She looks like she could use a little company.”
Her comment got underneath my skin. I was all of a sudden shaking my leg like I did when my nerves were about to be rattled. Instead, I got up and went into the kitchen. I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and watched as Mrs. Hall reheated the soda biscuits she’d asked me to make for the day.
Nadine followed me like a puppy and sat at the table. “You and Simon sort of look happy today,” she said, crossing her legs and smoothing down her hair.
“We are happy,” I replied. “This is our first holiday away from home.”
“I enjoyed myself when we went to Jefferson. I can’t cook like Mrs. Mae Lou, but we are still going to have a good time.”
Nadine turned up her nose, and stared at the alabaster ceiling. “Y’all didn’t ask me to go.”
I ignored her comment. Then she added, “Simon probably would have a fit if I came.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “He just wouldn’t want me there.”
Mrs. Hall interrupted her, “Nadine, how do you make gravy?”
Nadine smacked her lips. “Well, I usually brown some flour and add a little water.”
“Mrs. Hall, I use the turkey drippings for seasoning,” I chimed in.
“Believe it or not, I hardly ever cook a turkey. We usually eat a baked chicken and toast the holiday in with a glass of wine.”
“That’s ’cause y’all a little stuffy. People from up North always eat like that, like they are better,” Nadine said.
&nb
sp; Whatever truth she said, it didn’t matter. It all sent a frustrating chill up my spine.
I didn’t comment, even though I sensed inviting Nadine to our holiday get-together had the potential of turning sour.
Mrs. Hall took her time commenting, but when she did, she said, “No matter what is served, the point is it is Jesus’ birthday. It is the reason we are here, and whether we serve turkey or ham, it really does not make a difference.”
“You don’t have to get your feathers ruffled. I feel peoples up North think they are better than us Southerners.”
Now she had sparked a nerve in Mrs. Hall. When white folk get frightened or mad, they turn red. Mrs. Hall’s face was pink, her pinky finger trembling. Nadine had an effect on most people, and it was nothing positive.
“Carrie, don’t you think people up North think they are better than us?”
“Nadine, I really don’t care. I am happy we all can come together to celebrate Christ’s birthday.”
“I guess you right,” Nadine said, and then added, “I suppose all peoples can get along if they try.”
Nadine was what one of my professors at school called an antagonist. She was always trying to find someone to go up against, and this time, it was Mrs. Hall. To change the tone of the conversation, I volunteered to help set the table. The kitchen in Mrs. Hall’s place was larger than mine. She had enough space for six people at the table, but with the children and adults, all of us could not eat at the same time. So, she and I made the children’s plates first. We spooned out mashed potatoes, sliced turkey, gravy, green beans and yams.
While Nadine’s two children ate their Christmas meal, I fed Robert potatoes and green beans. He loved smashed table food, and he smacked his mouth as if it was his first meal. In the front room, Nadine had maneuvered a wedge in between Mr. Hall and Simon. She now had the attention of both men, and especially Simon, who occasionally blushed at whatever was being said. I peered at her from the hallway with a squint in my eyes. She looked up and bent her head as to ignore me. After the children were finished eating, Mrs. Hall collected the soiled plates, stacked them in the sink and wiped her wet hands on a dish towel.
An Elderberry Fall Page 16
