“Why don’t we go back to town,” Drew said, “get a burger and soda?”
By this time, I was actually starting to get hungry. That’s the way kids are. Bottomless pits.
“Callie, you got any money?” I asked.
“I’ll take care of you,” Drew said.
“You can take care of me,” Callie said, “but I have Stanley’s money. He’s not your responsibility. You’re not dating both of us.”
“Well,” Drew said, “that’s true. But I don’t mind.”
“You’re sweet,” Callie said, in that syrupy voice she uses when she wants something from Daddy, “but it’s not a problem.”
We tooled back into town in the Cadillac, and I must admit I felt pretty special when we stopped in front of the drugstore and climbed out of that fine machine, stood on the hot sidewalk like three gods descended from heaven.
———
WE HAD HAMBURGERS and malts at the drugstore, and I might add Drew paid for all of it. Timothy was working again, and he looked less than happy to see Callie with Drew. He put our food on the table like he was delivering bubonic plague. He had his soda hat pulled down close to his eyes, and his mouth was held so tight the thin line it made could have been used to thread a needle.
“What’s with him?” Drew said.
“Don’t pay him any mind,” Callie said.
“He wants to date her,” I said.
“Stanley!” Callie said, as if this revelation shocked her.
“You want me to take care of him?” Drew said.
“What? Hit him because he wants to date me?”
“Tell him to leave you alone.”
“No, Drew. I want to eat, then maybe we can go to the movie. It starts at one. I’ve already checked.”
“You have a theater,” he said. “Don’t you get tired of movies?”
“No,” she said. “And that’s our theater. I think of it, I mostly think of work. Besides, I want to see the movie at the Palace.”
“It’s a love story,” I said.
“Well,” Drew said. “If you want to.”
I almost felt sorry for Drew, way Callie had him tied around her little finger. She could have asked him to take her to a ballet recital and have him watch while wearing a tutu and a beret, and he would have done it.
We went to the picture, and it bored me. I slept through most of it because the theater was air-conditioned. Back then, any place that was air-conditioned in the summer was a treat.
As we were going out, we saw James Stilwind at the candy and popcorn counter, leaning over it, talking to a young girl raking popcorn out of the popper into a bag.
“There’s James Stilwind,” Callie said.
“That’s him?” Drew said. I thought he sounded a little sour about the recognition. I had a feeling he had come up in their private conversations. For all I knew, Callie had blabbed about all the things I had told her.
’Course, I was kind of a blabbermouth myself.
Stilwind turned his head, saw Callie. He had a bright white smile that looked as if it belonged in a Pepsodent commercial. “Y’all enjoy the picture?”
“It was good,” Callie said.
“It was all right,” Drew said.
I remained silent.
James came over to us, leaving the girl behind the counter looking pouty, raking popcorn, shoving it into bags, stacking it at the back of the popper.
“Haven’t I seen you before?” James asked Callie.
“I believe so,” she said. “We were coming out of the drugstore, and I saw you with your wife.”
“Wife? No. You saw me with a date. I forget who it was, but she isn’t my wife.”
“You forget?” Callie said.
“Well, if it were you, I wouldn’t forget.”
“We have to go,” Drew said.
“Sure,” James said.
“And what’s your name?” he asked Callie.
She told him.
He asked ours. We told him. I don’t think he was listening.
“And you’re James Stilwind?” Callie said.
“You know my name?”
“I know you own the theater, so I suppose it must be you.”
“Come around anytime. Here . . .” He went back behind the candy counter, reached into a drawer, came back with three tickets. He gave us each one.
“Free passes,” he said. “On me. I own the place. If I’m here, I’ll see you get a free bag of corn and a soft drink.”
“Thanks,” Callie said.
“We got to go,” Drew said, and he took Callie by the arm.
Outside, Callie said, “Drew, you’re hurting my arm.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s all right,” she said, rubbing it.
“What a creep,” Drew said.
“He seemed all right to me,” Callie said.
Drew sighed. Even his daddy’s Cadillac couldn’t trump a handsome grown-up with his own theater and a Thunderbird that didn’t belong to anyone’s daddy.
I thought: James Stilwind is someone who should be talked to if I’m going to truly investigate this murder. Buster couldn’t do it. Even the idea that a colored man might be quizzing a white man on something as sensitive as a sister’s death could get him beat or worse.
Problem was, I didn’t know how to do it either.
Drew drove us home. Except for Callie commenting on how much she liked what some girl walking along the sidewalk was wearing, it was a silent trip, the air thick enough to carve into shapes.
Drew let us out at the Dew Drop. Callie slid over and kissed him on the cheek. “See you soon, Drewsy?”
That kiss broke the ice. Drew smiled. “Sure. Real soon, I hope.”
“You can bet on it,” Callie said.
“See you, Drewsy,” I said.
Drew gave me a stony look.
We got out of the car and started inside. I said, “You sure know how to work them, don’t you, Callie?”
“Comes natural,” she said.
17
WHEN WE CAME into the house Rosy and Mom were sitting on the couch. Mom had her arm around Rosy, and Rosy was crying. Daddy was leaning against the corner of the wall where the living room led into the kitchen.
Callie said, “Rosy, are you okay?”
“Let her be for a moment,” Daddy said. “Y’all come in here.”
We went into the kitchen. There was no door between the kitchen and living room, just an opening, so when we sat at the table he spoke softly.
“Bubba Joe,” Daddy said. “They found him.”
“Where?” Callie asked.
“Dead,” Daddy said. “Washed up out of Dewmont Creek. They found him on the edge of a pasture. Creek had swollen during the rain, receded during the dry spell. He’d been dead awhile. Man owned the land where they found him didn’t go back there often. When he did, to check on a cow, he found Bubba Joe. He was so blowed up he thought he was a calf at first.”
“Yuck,” Callie said.
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” I said. “Not that he was blowed up, but that he’s dead.”
“Rosy still loves him,” Callie said. “That’s so sad.”
“He tried to kill her,” I said, and started to say he tried to kill me, but caught myself. “He might have tried to kill someone else. He might have killed someone else.”
“That’s true,” Daddy said. “I don’t miss him any.”
“Did he drown?” Callie asked.
“Throat was cut. They think he might have been in the water awhile, but mostly he’s been laid up in that pasture, going ripe.”
“How did you find out about it?” Callie asked.
“Barbershop.”
“It could just be a rumor,” she said.
“Man told me was the man who found him,” Daddy said. “And the police called to tell me too. I told Gal and Rosy.”
“Sorry as I am for Rosy,” Callie said, “it’s a relief.”
“True enough,” Daddy said.
Daddy went back into the living room.