regarding the death of the pregnant white girl who had threatened to destroy Rhoda’s family. Standing in front of me, wearing a red wig that looked like it was about to fly right off her head, Scary Mary told me how the girl had died in Rhoda’s house, in Rhoda’s bathroom, in Rhoda’s presence.
Wiping a tear from her eye, Scary Mary said, “Poor Rhoda. Seein’ a po’lice shoot and kill her own brother was bad enough, but havin’
that girl die right before her eyes must have been downright tryin’.” I thought about how Rhoda had snuffed out Mr. Boatwright’s life when he became too much of a nuisance. Right away, I knew that Rhoda had to be involved in that girl’s death.
As soon as all of our other company left and Muh’Dear turned in for the night, I confronted Rhoda with the information that Scary Mary had shared with me, hoping she would deny any involvement.
Rhoda disappointed, but didn’t surprise, me. Without hesitation, she admitted with a sigh and a strange sparkle in her eyes, “I had to do it. What else could I do?”
My mouth dropped open. I was stunned beyond belief. But the horror was just beginning. It was like a floodgate suddenly opened up and all kinds of shit spilled out.
Once Rhoda started confessing, she could not stop. Not just about Mr. Boatwright and the white girl, but two others! The year of our 74
Mar y Monroe
graduation, Rhoda’s bothersome grandmother had mysteriously tumbled down the stairs in their house, in the middle of the night, breaking her neck in the fall. Then, the policeman who had shot and killed her older brother David died in a hit-and-run accident. I saw spots in front of my eyes because I thought I was losing what was left of my mind. I could not believe my ears. Not only had Rhoda killed Mr.
Boatwright and that young white girl, but her own grandmother and that policeman.
It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make in my life. I knew in my heart that it was time for Rhoda Nelson O’Toole and me to part company. The burden of carrying around the knowledge of Mr. Boatwright’s murder had been too much. I knew that I could not continue being friends with a woman who had admitted killing four people.
Rhoda was stunned and disappointed to say the least, but I had made my decision and I intended to stick by it. She didn’t even have to warn me, because I had no intention of sharing this startling information with anyone else.
“Good-bye, Rhoda,” I said, my voice cracking. She didn’t respond.
When she calmly walked out of my house that night, she didn’t look back, but I watched from my window until she was out of my sight.
CHAPTER 19
Rhoda had been so much a part of me, now that she was gone, I felt like I had lost an appendage. But other “handicapped” people got along okay so I knew I would, too. Somehow.
While I was trying to get a grip on myself, I spent a few weeks hanging around my stepfather’s restaurant. The Buttercup was a large, family-oriented place, nicely decorated with plush maroon carpets and tables covered with starched white tablecloths. It was located in the center of town in one of our most popular strip malls.
I wasn’t ready to work anywhere yet. I lived on money I had saved over the years. But I often helped out at the restaurant anyway, bussing tables and taking orders. Muh’Dear had pretty much taken over Mr. King’s life. She was his head cook and she took care of his books. This relationship had empowered my mother in a way I never thought I would see. Not that Muh’Dear had ever been shy or the kind of woman to stand in some man’s shadow. She didn’t hesitate to speak her mind. Especially with me.
“Annette, how do you expect to get decent tips walkin’ around up in here with that long face?” Muh’Dear asked as I stumbled around like a wounded soldier, dropping trays and delivering orders to the wrong tables.
“I don’t really work here. I don’t expect to make any tips,” I
Wiping a tear from her eye, Scary Mary said, “Poor Rhoda. Seein’ a po’lice shoot and kill her own brother was bad enough, but havin’
that girl die right before her eyes must have been downright tryin’.” I thought about how Rhoda had snuffed out Mr. Boatwright’s life when he became too much of a nuisance. Right away, I knew that Rhoda had to be involved in that girl’s death.
As soon as all of our other company left and Muh’Dear turned in for the night, I confronted Rhoda with the information that Scary Mary had shared with me, hoping she would deny any involvement.
Rhoda disappointed, but didn’t surprise, me. Without hesitation, she admitted with a sigh and a strange sparkle in her eyes, “I had to do it. What else could I do?”
My mouth dropped open. I was stunned beyond belief. But the horror was just beginning. It was like a floodgate suddenly opened up and all kinds of shit spilled out.
Once Rhoda started confessing, she could not stop. Not just about Mr. Boatwright and the white girl, but two others! The year of our 74
Mar y Monroe
graduation, Rhoda’s bothersome grandmother had mysteriously tumbled down the stairs in their house, in the middle of the night, breaking her neck in the fall. Then, the policeman who had shot and killed her older brother David died in a hit-and-run accident. I saw spots in front of my eyes because I thought I was losing what was left of my mind. I could not believe my ears. Not only had Rhoda killed Mr.
Boatwright and that young white girl, but her own grandmother and that policeman.
It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make in my life. I knew in my heart that it was time for Rhoda Nelson O’Toole and me to part company. The burden of carrying around the knowledge of Mr. Boatwright’s murder had been too much. I knew that I could not continue being friends with a woman who had admitted killing four people.
Rhoda was stunned and disappointed to say the least, but I had made my decision and I intended to stick by it. She didn’t even have to warn me, because I had no intention of sharing this startling information with anyone else.
“Good-bye, Rhoda,” I said, my voice cracking. She didn’t respond.
When she calmly walked out of my house that night, she didn’t look back, but I watched from my window until she was out of my sight.
CHAPTER 19
Rhoda had been so much a part of me, now that she was gone, I felt like I had lost an appendage. But other “handicapped” people got along okay so I knew I would, too. Somehow.
While I was trying to get a grip on myself, I spent a few weeks hanging around my stepfather’s restaurant. The Buttercup was a large, family-oriented place, nicely decorated with plush maroon carpets and tables covered with starched white tablecloths. It was located in the center of town in one of our most popular strip malls.
I wasn’t ready to work anywhere yet. I lived on money I had saved over the years. But I often helped out at the restaurant anyway, bussing tables and taking orders. Muh’Dear had pretty much taken over Mr. King’s life. She was his head cook and she took care of his books. This relationship had empowered my mother in a way I never thought I would see. Not that Muh’Dear had ever been shy or the kind of woman to stand in some man’s shadow. She didn’t hesitate to speak her mind. Especially with me.
“Annette, how do you expect to get decent tips walkin’ around up in here with that long face?” Muh’Dear asked as I stumbled around like a wounded soldier, dropping trays and delivering orders to the wrong tables.
“I don’t really work here. I don’t expect to make any tips,” I
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