Whitney's bony face twisted in a furious scowl. "Get the hell out, Darling. Now."
11:12 A.M., SATURDAY, MAY 9, 1970
Enid Friendley tapped politely on the door to the Judge's bedroom though she knew he was in his study. At the expected lack of response, she turned the heavy bronze doorknob and entered. As she moved swiftly around the room—Enid always moved quickly, though she begrudged every step in the service of this house—she dusted efficiently and thoroughly and savored the pleasure she felt when she saw that the carved mahogany box was no longer in place atop the Judge's dresser.
Chapter 14.
The Mt. Zion Baptist Church glistened in the early-morning sunlight. A cemetery adjoined the church, the plots beautifully cared for. The frame church had recently been repainted and was a dazzling white. The frame house on the far side of the church also sparkled with fresh paint. White and red impatiens grew in profusion in the front bed. Crimson azaleas flamed along the side of the tiny house.
Annie pulled into the shell drive. The slam of her car door sounded shockingly loud in the placid morning quiet.
As Annie approached, the front door opened. An imposing woman stepped out onto the porch. Her dark face held neither welcome nor hostility. Tall and slender, she waited, her hands folded across the midriff of her starched cotton housedress.
"Mrs. McKay?"
"Yes'm. You must be Miz Darling. Miss Dora called, said you were coming." She didn't smile. Her face was grave and thoughtful.
Annie recognized strength of character. Lucy Jane McKaywould do what she thought was right—and the devil take the hindmost.
Annie was straightforward. "There's a girl missing—and it's tied up with what happened a long time ago—to Judge Tarrant and to Ross."
Lucy Jane looked at her searchingly. "Miss Dora says this girl is the daughter of Mr. Ross and Miss Sybil." A slow shake of her head. "Miss Sybil—even then she was too pretty for any man to resist, but I thought it would all come right. Mr. Ross, he could handle her—nobody else ever could." A faint, slightly possessive smile touched her lips. "Mr. Ross—he was a fine young man, a strong, fine young man." She nodded. Her decision was made. "You're welcome to come in, Miz Darling."
The living room was small but cheerful, and it shone from loving care. The gingham curtains were freshly laundered, the wooden floor glistened with wax, the red-and-white braided throw rugs were bright and clean. The smell of baking hung in the air.
Annie sat in a comfortable easy chair and accepted a cup of coffee and a fresh cinnamon roll.
Lucy Jane poured Annie's coffee, then sat on the sofa, her posture erect, her dark eyes somber.
"Did Miss Dora tell you what we learned last night?" A bite of cinnamon roll melted in Annie's mouth.
"Yes'm." Lucy Jane clasped her dark, strong hands together. Her face was troubled. "I always knew something was wrong—bad wrong—that day. I'd been in my quarters. It was afternoon and I was reading my Bible until time to go in the kitchen and set to work on dinner. I'd just looked up at the clock, to make sure time wasn't getting away from me, when I heard the shot. It was two minutes after four. I didn't know what to do. I know the sound guns make and there was no call for a gun to be shot off. Not that close. I went to my window and looked out and I saw Mr. Ross running across the garden toward the house. That relieved my mind. I knew Mr. Ross would take care of it, so I went back to my rocker. But pretty soon doors slammed and cars came and went. I went to see
what was happening and Mr. Harmon met me at the kitchen door and told me to be fixin' food for all the family to come, that Judge Tarrant's heart had given out and he was dead." She pursed her lips, then burst out, "I knew there was more to it because Enid—she was the maid—she came to me the next week and showed me this charred bundle of clothes. She said they'd belonged to the Judge, and she'd found them out in the incinerator. I told her to hush her mouth and I would see to it. I gave the clothes to Mr. Harmon, and he told me he'd take care of everything. By then the funerals were over, and it had been in the papers how the Judge died from a heart attack when he heard the news about Mr. Ross's accident with his gun." She looked across the room at a table filled with framed photographs. "Mr. Ross never had an accident with a gun. Mr. Ross, he was always careful. He did things right." She smoothed her starched cotton skirt. "I knew it was wrong, all these years, and now the past has come due—and Mr. Ross's daughter is lost and gone. I tell you, Miz Darling, I feel low in my mind."
"You can help," Annie said quietly.
"Now? What can I do?" She was not so much reluctant as uncertain.
"Talk to me about the Tarrants." Annie held her gaze. "You knew them, really knew them. Tell me who was angry, who was afraid, who was threatened."
"The Tarrants." A smile transformed Lucy Jane's face. "Young Mr. Ross, he had a sense of humor, he did. Did you ever hear tell how he made a family shield? I suppose you know how prideful Miz Charlotte is, always talking about past glories and all the fine things the Tarrants have done and seen —and rightly so. Lawyers and doctors and preachers and good women keeping families going. Oh, there are many stories to tell. I used to hear the Judge calk to the boys when they were little, telling them about mighty battles and such. But Miz Charlotte, she riled Mr. Ross, and one day when he was home for the weekend from school, he and Miss Sybil were in the library giggling fit to kill. When they came out, they put this big poster up on the landing of the stairs, where nobody couldmiss it, and it was like those shields that knights of old carried. Above the shield, Mr. Ross had written THE TERRIFYING, TERRIBLE TARRANTS, and in each part of the shield, he'd drawn a huge hairy tarantula, and down below, he'd printed, THE FAMILY CREST-TARANTULAS RAMPANT. Зourse, it made Miz Charlotte