Spencer made a note. “Were there any witnesses to the crime?”
“Some say that Frankie’s father was there. I told that part, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but how do they know?”
Helen Honeycutt looked puzzled. “It’s what people say,” she told him, as if that settled it.
“Yes, ma’am, but how do weknow that Frankie Silver’s father was present at the time of the murder? You said there were no witnesses. Was he charged as an accessory?”
“No. I believe the mother was, though.”
“Themother was charged?”
“I think so.”
“Not the father?”
“No.”
With a weary sigh, Spencer sat back and began scribbling in the margins of his notes. “Why?”
“Why wasn’t he charged? I don’t know, Sheriff, but it didn’t matter anyway. Nobody was tried for the murder except Frankie Silvers herself.”
Alton Banner cleared his throat. “About that name, ma’am. I’m acquainted with some of the Silvers from over there in Mitchell. I don’t believe they have a finals on their name. I believe it’s Silver. Singular.”
“I always heard itSilvers.” Mrs. Honeycutt’s face had taken on a sullen expression, and no doubt she was regretting her impulse to do good deeds for invalids.
“That can be checked fairly easily,” said Spencer, unwilling to quibble about minor points. “Let’s go back to the story of the murder itself. Did Frankie Silver leave a written confession?”
“Not that I ever heard of. The books don’t mention one.”
“I’d be astonished to hear that she could write,” muttered Dr. Banner. “Consider the time and place.”
Spencer nodded. “I was just wondering how we knew the circumstances of Charlie’s death so exactly. Where he was lying when the attack came. How many times she attempted to kill him. Especially his last words.God bless the child. It sounds like something out of a play.”
Alton Banner chuckled. “Porgy and Bess,to be exact.”
Mrs. Honeycutt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the way I heard the story, Sheriff.”
“Speaking of songs, ma’am,” the doctor continued. “I noticed you quoted from another one in your recounting of the story. You said, ‘He was her man, and he was doing her wrong,’ which is from ‘Frankie and Johnny.’ ”
“Oh, yes. That’s where that old song came from. It was inspired by this murder case.”
Spencer shot a quick glance at Alton Banner.Later, his look said. “This is extremely helpful,” he said to Mrs. Honeycutt. “Now, tell me, was the murder weapon ever found?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“Then how do they know it was thrown in the river?” Spencer consulted his notes. “You said,maybe the father -who was not definitely there-threw it into the river on his way home.Witnesses?”
“No. It’s what people said.” She glanced at her watch and then at Martha.
“Okay,” said Spencer. “Then she was arrested…”
“I really have to be going,” said Mrs. Honeycutt with a plaster smile. “Good luck with your research, Sheriff.”
Martha stood up, too, gave him a look, and said, “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
Spencer saw the visitors to the door with fulsome thanks and offers of coffee, but his peace overtures were coldly received. When he saw the taillights on Martha’s car disappear around the curve of the driveway, he sank back on the couch with a weary sigh.
“I don’t blame you,” said Alton Banner. “That much pleasant hypocrisy would wear out even a well man.”
“No, it was kind of her to come and tell me the story,” said Spencer. “I really did appreciate it. She probably told it just the way she heard it. It wasn’t her fault that-that-”
“It was piffle.”
“I think so. Most of it.”
The doctor squinted at him. “What do you want to know about this for, anyhow? Long time ago, not your jurisdiction. You writing a book?”
“No. I’m not planning to. I guess it’s just something to keep my mind occupied while I’m home.” Spencer tried to make his interest seem desultory. “It’s an old story, and I always wondered about it. Heard it from Nelse Miller.”
“I hope he had more sense than to tell you that this story inspired the song ‘Frankie and Johnny.’ ”
“He didn’t say that. No.”
“You don’t believe it, either, do you?”
Spencer shook his head. “Stranger things have happened, I guess, but it doesn’t seem likely. ‘Frankie and Johnny’ is an urban song. The woman goes to a bar, finds out that her lover is unfaithful to her, and kills him with a pistol, which she fires through the door of an apartment or a hotel room. Except for the name ‘Frankie,’ I see no similarities between the two incidents.”
“It’s like confusing Barbara Bush with Barbara Mandrell,” Banner grunted. “A mere coincidence of names. I hear nothing of our mountains in either the tune or the story of ‘Frankie and Johnny.’ ”
“No. I wonder if there is a song about Frankie Silver.”
“Bound to be, if anybody remembers it. So, tell me, as a lawman, how do you see the rest of it?” The doctor smiled. “In your professional opinion?”
“I don’t have enough information yet. Just offhand, though, I’d say that all that business about her sneaking up on him three times and backing away again is the embellishment of a storyteller.”
Alton Banner hummed a snatch of an old tune.“Three times he kissed her lily-white hands… three times he kissed her cheek.”
“Yes, exactly,” said Spencer. “It sounds like a ballad-in-the-making. And I don’t think her father was there, either.”
“Why not?”
The sheriff shrugged. “Just a hunch-and a lot of experience with rural justice. If there was a man around, they sure as hell would have put him on trial for the crime. Charging a little eighteen-year-old girl with an ax murder had to be a last resort for the sheriff of Burke County.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, son,” said the old doctor. “I’ll check back on you toward the end of the week. See how you and Frankie are getting along.”
The sheriff smiled. “You do that. One more thing, though. Can I drive yet?”
“To Nashville in six weeks? You still thinking about that?”
“No. I meant around the county here-soon.”
Alton Banner shook his head. “Ask me next time.”
In the sheriff’s office Jeff McCullough, editor of the county’s weekly newspaper, theHamelin Record, sat in the straight chair beside Joe LeDonne’s desk, scanning the prepared statement that he had been given.
“So I can use everything in here without compromising the investigation?”
“Of course,” said the deputy. “We don’t have the forensic evidence back from the lab anyhow. I hope we have an arrest by then.”
“You were the investigating officer?”
“I took the call when the bodies were found. Martha came out shortly thereafter to help with the crime scene.”
McCullough tilted his glasses to the end of his nose and looked again at the press release. “It’s eerie, isn’t it?” he said. “I just finished doing a story about Fate Harkryder’s upcoming execution, so I had to go back and read the old stories on the Trail Murders. I could just about run them again for this new case with no rewrite.”
“There are some similarities,” LeDonne conceded.