To Live and Die In Dixie by Kathy Hogan Trocheck Page A

he said, pushing the goggles into a nest of graying frizzy red hair. “Susie and I were home all day yesterday too, and most of the time we were out here, scraping paint. I remember there was a Federal Express truck parked over there in the morning, but I saw Littlefield come to the door for that. I saw him leave too. You can’t miss that Rolls of his. There were lots of people walking around, all day, because of the tour preview, I guess. I went out to Sears sometime around three to get more sandpaper and run some other errands, then I stopped off to pick up a pizza for dinner. Got back around six. I remember seeing a white panel truck with some writing on it, parked at the curb.”
    â€œThat would have been the florist’s truck,” I said. “Anything else?”
    â€œOh yeah,” he said, “there was a funky pink-and-gray van parked over there a little while later. It’s out there again right now,” he said, pointing.
    â€œI know about that,” I said. “Nothing else?”
    â€œNothing specifically,” Burdette said. “Like I told the policewoman who came over here to ask questions, there were people all over the block Saturday.”
    I gave him my business card and asked him to call me if he remembered anything else.
    â€œBy the way,” I said. “How is Littlefield for a neighbor?”
    Burdette glanced around, as though checking for eavesdroppers. “He’s a pain in the butt, but don’t tell him I said so. He’s always loaning his house out for these huge charity parties. People park on lawns, and block our driveways. It’s a mess. But the neighborhood association won’t do anything about it because he always puts his house on tour every year, and it’s a bigdraw. And I guess you’ve heard about the Nazi flag incident.”
    â€œI just talked to Jake Dahlberg,” I said.
    â€œDid Jake tell you Littlefield filed a grievance about the color of Dahlberg’s house with the association?”
    He hadn’t.
    â€œJake had painted the house this cool shade of purple, mauve, Susie calls it. But mauve wasn’t on the approved chart of colors for historic homes in the neighborhood, so the association made him repaint it. Jake hired a lawyer and everything, but he lost.”
    â€œWhat happened next?”
    â€œJake reported Littlefield to the city zoning board for the parking and fire violations from the parties. I heard they socked Littlefield with a fine, but he’s had at least one other party I know of since then. The last time, Jake called a towtruck and they towed every single car on the street. Jesus, was Littlefield mad.”
    Sam Burdette was getting to be a regular fountain of information. I decided to pump him a little more.
    â€œDid you know Bridget, the girl who was killed?”
    Burdette nodded. “Cute kid. She used to come over and play with Emma, that’s our baby, sometimes. Susie asked her a couple times about baby-sitting, but Bridget was always busy, so we stopped asking.”
    â€œDid you ever see anybody coming to visit her, or did she ever mention anybody who might have been mad at her? Any trouble she was having?”
    From inside the house a phone rang once, then twice. I could hear bare feet slapping down a wooden hallway. Then a woman called out, “Sam, phone.”
    Burdette unplugged the sander and wrapped the electrical cord around it.
    â€œGotta go,” he said. “We didn’t really know Bridget all that well. Besides, you can’t see the carriage house,where she lived, from here, so we wouldn’t know who came or went over there.”
    â€œBut you could see some of the comings and goings from the main house?”
    â€œSam,” the woman called again.
    â€œI’m coming,” he hollered back.
    â€œYeah, we could see who was coming or going, if we were interested, but we’ve got a new baby, and a life of our own,”