Selma. And sure not to Dora. Poor thing.”
“Why don’t you leave that to me and Lindy?” Hunter put in. “The sheriff’s been thinking the same thing since you mentioned it. Just holding off out of respect. Talked to ’em both once but they weren’t in any shape to say much beyond how you forced the parson to eat a whole lot of your caviar. Just mad at everything and everybody, I’d say. Looking for somebody to blame. Maybe, with a few days past, they’ll think different.”
“That takes care of the past and the present.” Miss Amelia ticked off an item she’d scribbled on her paper. “Now, let’s talk about the recent past. What’s been going on in the church? How the pastor’s been acting—anything different? Probably talk to a few church members to begin with. Maybe even the whole church board. Start with Hawley Harvey and move on to Elder Perkins. Those two think they’re the movers and the shakers around here, let them come up with something.”
“Hunter and I can talk to both of them,” I offered. “Anything else?”
“What am I missing here, Hunter?” Miss Amelia asked. “I know you don’t want to say what the sheriff’s doing that’s different, but if you’ve got any ideas, or any information that can help us, why, I just hope you’ll trust me enough to share.”
Hunter put one of his large hands on top of Miss Amelia’s. He nodded stiffly a time or two. “Nobody’s after you, Miss Amelia. The sheriff—everybody—knows you didn’t have anything to do with this. I’ll have a talk with him but I don’t think he’d be unhappy in the least to know I’m working with you. What I said before, that was just in case there was something he wanted kept secret. You understand—it’s my job.”
“I thank you for your confidence,” Miss Amelia said in return, the two of them into a kind of friendly formality that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “One more thing. That hog. Who was around his pen about that time? And who was in the kitchen around then?”
He nodded. “Talked to people in charge of the kitchen. Nobody could say who was around, or when. Everybody ran when the yelling started, is what people told me. I’ll get right on that hog pen, see who was watching the pens and if anybody remembers somebody there who shouldn’t have been.”
We all hushed when Cecil Darling came back holding out a dessert tray filled with dishes of a colorless pudding studded with tired raisins and drizzled with a bland-looking sauce.
“My prizewinning spotted dick,” he crowed, pushing his tray under our noses.
As one, we threw up our hands, warding off the lethal-looking dessert.
On the way out, Meemaw leaned toward me to whisper in a smug voice, “Only honorable mention.”
Chapter Fourteen
When all us Blanchards filed in through the wide-open doors of the Rushing to Calvary Independent Church, the entire congregation turned to stare. Miss Amelia led the way, head high, eyes pinned straight up to where Hawley Harvey stood in front of the white, cloth-covered casket, waiting to deliver the eulogy after Elder Perkins led the congregation in scripture and prayer and a short sermon. That Hawley Harvey’s face paled when he saw us and drew up into a look of disdain or even scorn didn’t make my heart slow down any. There were evidently people here who’d already judged Miss Amelia, or maybe the whole family, and we would have to meet them head-on.
Behind Miss Amelia came Mama, cheeks burning but ready to fight anybody saying one nasty word to Meemaw. Bethany followed Mama, a butterfly barrette holding back one side of her bright hair, making it curl around her cheek.
I wore my best mauve, go-to-meeting summer dress—no black in this church because Rushing to Calvary celebrated death as the beginning of a trip to live with God. Nothing to be sad about. Behind me came Justin, looking like Justin always looked only his jeans were pressed. Jeffrey was last, dressed
“Why don’t you leave that to me and Lindy?” Hunter put in. “The sheriff’s been thinking the same thing since you mentioned it. Just holding off out of respect. Talked to ’em both once but they weren’t in any shape to say much beyond how you forced the parson to eat a whole lot of your caviar. Just mad at everything and everybody, I’d say. Looking for somebody to blame. Maybe, with a few days past, they’ll think different.”
“That takes care of the past and the present.” Miss Amelia ticked off an item she’d scribbled on her paper. “Now, let’s talk about the recent past. What’s been going on in the church? How the pastor’s been acting—anything different? Probably talk to a few church members to begin with. Maybe even the whole church board. Start with Hawley Harvey and move on to Elder Perkins. Those two think they’re the movers and the shakers around here, let them come up with something.”
“Hunter and I can talk to both of them,” I offered. “Anything else?”
“What am I missing here, Hunter?” Miss Amelia asked. “I know you don’t want to say what the sheriff’s doing that’s different, but if you’ve got any ideas, or any information that can help us, why, I just hope you’ll trust me enough to share.”
Hunter put one of his large hands on top of Miss Amelia’s. He nodded stiffly a time or two. “Nobody’s after you, Miss Amelia. The sheriff—everybody—knows you didn’t have anything to do with this. I’ll have a talk with him but I don’t think he’d be unhappy in the least to know I’m working with you. What I said before, that was just in case there was something he wanted kept secret. You understand—it’s my job.”
“I thank you for your confidence,” Miss Amelia said in return, the two of them into a kind of friendly formality that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “One more thing. That hog. Who was around his pen about that time? And who was in the kitchen around then?”
He nodded. “Talked to people in charge of the kitchen. Nobody could say who was around, or when. Everybody ran when the yelling started, is what people told me. I’ll get right on that hog pen, see who was watching the pens and if anybody remembers somebody there who shouldn’t have been.”
We all hushed when Cecil Darling came back holding out a dessert tray filled with dishes of a colorless pudding studded with tired raisins and drizzled with a bland-looking sauce.
“My prizewinning spotted dick,” he crowed, pushing his tray under our noses.
As one, we threw up our hands, warding off the lethal-looking dessert.
On the way out, Meemaw leaned toward me to whisper in a smug voice, “Only honorable mention.”
Chapter Fourteen
When all us Blanchards filed in through the wide-open doors of the Rushing to Calvary Independent Church, the entire congregation turned to stare. Miss Amelia led the way, head high, eyes pinned straight up to where Hawley Harvey stood in front of the white, cloth-covered casket, waiting to deliver the eulogy after Elder Perkins led the congregation in scripture and prayer and a short sermon. That Hawley Harvey’s face paled when he saw us and drew up into a look of disdain or even scorn didn’t make my heart slow down any. There were evidently people here who’d already judged Miss Amelia, or maybe the whole family, and we would have to meet them head-on.
Behind Miss Amelia came Mama, cheeks burning but ready to fight anybody saying one nasty word to Meemaw. Bethany followed Mama, a butterfly barrette holding back one side of her bright hair, making it curl around her cheek.
I wore my best mauve, go-to-meeting summer dress—no black in this church because Rushing to Calvary celebrated death as the beginning of a trip to live with God. Nothing to be sad about. Behind me came Justin, looking like Justin always looked only his jeans were pressed. Jeffrey was last, dressed
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