"As long as whoever issued the bond was still solvent, yes," the sheriff said.
"Naturally," I said, "the Lees' precious family honor couldn't stand a hit like this. Both for Callendar's involvement in the massacre as well as the fact that they stole a part of the Confederate treasury."
"Okay," Tony said. "I hear all that, but what's it got to do with this place?"
The sheriff looked at me. "For one thing, this explains what that inscription says down there on the manteclass="underline" Callendar killed them all."
"Well, hell, she must have known that was there. Why not take the damned stone down and pitch it in the river?"
"Have you seen that mantel?" I asked. "It must weigh two, maybe three tons. No, what they did was cover it up with plaster."
"Still," Pardee said, "I'd have burned the house down years ago and just not worried about it."
"I can understand that," I said. "This house, this property, part of their so-called glorious heritage. None of them could bring themselves to do that. It was easier to control who lived here, you know, the so-called right kinds of people. That probably wasn't so hard, what with all the Lees in the courthouse, the local law offices, and so on."
"Maybe there's another explanation," Horace said. "The bonds are still here."
That comment produced a moment of profound silence, but then Tony shook his head. "Too long, man," he said. "Too many generations of Lees living off those things. What they've managed to do over time is convert the bonds into two point five mil worth of property, which is another reason not to burn the house down, when you think of it."
I agreed. Except now they'd never get it. Besides, in this day and age, I wasn't sure that anyone presenting a nineteenth-century bearer bond in London would get the time of day, except maybe to discuss it as a collector's item.
"Did Hester admit she sicced her baby boy on me?"
"Nope," the sheriff said. "Hester admitted nothing regarding the events here or in Summerfield. Knew nothing about any of that. Valeria just kept crying, which is as good a way to avoid answering questions as any."
"So what's going to happen to them, then?" I asked him.
"The Lees? Well, that's an interesting question, and you will play some part in the outcome." He stopped there, waiting to see if I would work it out.
"Lemme see," I said. "Callendar, the guy who shot the dog trainer, and probably my original ghost, and who tried to air-condition my house-he's dead. He, in turn, was killed by an insane old man, who happened to be his father. I can attest to that fact. So can Carol."
"No, she can't," the sheriff said, and, of course, he was right. Carol had lost her memory. They had had to tell her what her own name was.
He sat back in his chair with an expectant expression on his face. "Of course, they were all in on it," he said. "Even Cubby Johnson, to a certain extent. You know that and I know that-but proof?"
I just stared at him. He waited. Then I got it.
"Guys," I said. "You know the meaning of the word 'deniability'?"
"As in what we don't hear, we never heard?" Horace said.
"Yup."
"We'll see you in town, boss," he said, and they all three got up and left.
"Okay," I said once they'd gone. "This is the South. What's the deal on the table?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he said. "You do still want this place, right? You want to live out here in this county and be treated respectfully?"
"Oh, my," I said.
"Well?"
"So: I decline to bring charges against the nutters next door. They remain in their haunted house, the major keeps riding, Valeria becomes a spinster, the Johnsons keep their jobs, and any legal issues with that long-lost will evaporate."
"In short, everything stays the same," he says. "Except you own Glory's End, and you have the lock of the century on your neighbors, who will continue, of course, never to speak to the proprietor of Glory's End."
"Wow."
"Well, hell," he said. "We can't try the major, and Hester has to live with what he did and the fact that she lit that fuse in the first place. She and her daughter now know they'll never have Glory's End; on the other hand, the daughter will inherit Laurel Grove because her nasty brother is holding his head in the cold, cold ground."
"And because they'll know that I know the true history, they'll leave me the hell alone."
"They'll also know that I know, which is even better insurance that they will leave you alone."
"Nothing changes, then."
"Not much ever does out here, Lieutenant. Especially across the road. Hester has aged ten years this past week; she is destroyed, I think."
I got up and stretched my legs. He was right, of course. This was the solution. "Who thought all this up?"
"Hester's attorney," he said. "He and I got together for a toddy, and he indulged in some idle speculation.'
"Don't tell me," I said. "His name is Lee."
"Wayne Anthony Marion Lee, Esquire, to be precise. He'd be a good guy for you to know, actually."
I started to laugh. It hurt my head, but it was almost worth it. Then I remembered Carol. I asked him if she had family who could take care of her.
He shook his head. "Her parents were killed in a car accident. She has one sister, but they don't speak, and she wasn't interested in helping out. Something about Carol's time on the force in Raleigh."
"She has nobody?"
He shrugged. "As I recall, she has you," he said.
I thought about that. Of course I would help. I'd do whatever it took to nurse her back to health and hopefully memory, but the practicalities of that were daunting. The sheriff read my thoughts.
"Carol volunteered at the hospital and the library, among other places and causes in town," he said. "There are ladies all over town who will help her get back on her feet, but you're the best candidate to help her understand what happened to her and why. All in the due course of time, naturally."
"Goddamn, sheriff," I said. "That might lead to a committed relationship of some kind."
"Fancy that," he said. "I told you she'd git you."
"I'll need some time to think about all this," I said.
"Absolutely," he said. "I'll give you about a minute."
We grinned at each other.
"Deal," I said. "Deal all around."
He drove me back into town, where I joined up with the rest of my gang, who were indulging in one last fry-fest at the local cafe. My hands were still bandaged, and my joints would have been perfect for some extreme yoga, but I managed to join in. Pardee and Horace went back to the city with all our gear, and Tony drove me over to the hospital to see Carol. It was awkward, of course. She remembered nothing but had been told some things about who she was and assured that she would mend physically. The nurses at the hospital all knew her and liked her, and I knew that they'd be watching me like a hawk for the next several months. We talked for a little while, and I felt better about my commitment to the sheriff, and to Carol. We were both going to learn some things, and there wasn't the first inkling of regret on my part about the situation.
I asked Tony to take me back out to Glory's End, where I could retrieve my vehicle and settle in my new herd of dogs. He took me there, promised to come out and check on me for the next week or so, but then left me to it.
I wandered around that big empty house again, wondering if I shouldn't just go back to the city and give this strange but fascinating place a pass. The more I thought about it, though, the more I wanted to do it-the house and Carol Pollard. Maybe I would run for sheriff one day when Hodge Walker packed it in; maybe not. Maybe I'd just walk the fields with my dogs, watching out for quicksand, abandoned wells, ticks, and sex-crazed teenagers, all the while restoring the house as best I could. I wanted to find the lost slave graveyard and restore that, too, and to do something about all those boys up the hillside. Heck, I might go buy a metal detector and go exploring for buried treasures.