Read When Did We Lose Harriet? Online
Authors: Patricia Sprinkle
Eunice nodded. “That’s the only picture I have of her. Seemed fittin’ to put it out.”
I took a deep breath. “I came by to tell you something about Harriet.” There was no way to soften it. “She was found dead last month in Oakwood Cemetery. They have just identified her.”
Eunice leaned forward and scratched an itch behind one ear. “Dead? Harriet’s dead? Who killed her?” She seemed far more interested in that than in the fact itself. I couldn’t help wondering if she was already imagining herself back on the ten o’clock news.
“They don’t think anybody killed her. They think she died of natural causes.”
“Natural causes? You mean like drugs?”
“More like a heart attack or something. Do you know if she had a bad heart?”
“Could have. It runs in our family.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Last month the doctor told me I’m heading for a stroke if I don’t get my pressure down. But with Myrna getting shot, it’s probably sky-high. And now, Harriet.” She stopped and shook her head gloomily. “The Good Book says God won’t give you more than you can bear, but seems lately like he’s overestimating my abilities.”
“God didn’t shoot Myrna nor kill Harriet,” I told her sharply. I managed to refrain from adding that overeating probably had something to do with her blood pressure. “There’s one thing I don’t understand, though. An artist’s drawing was in the papers for several days after she was found. Didn’t you see the picture? Didn’t it occur to you then that it looked an awful lot like Harriet?”
“I might have seen it, but I hadn’t seen Harriet since not long after that picture there was taken.” She pointed to the coffee table. “Harriet wasn’t hardly walking good. After Myrna left, there wasn’t no reason for me to bother with her baby. Frank was taking care of it, and his mother.”
“I thought you told me you saw her at her granny’s funeral.”
“I told you I hadn’t seen her since the funeral, which was the honest-to-God truth.” Eunice said that without a trace of a blush, although she and I both knew she’d also told me Harriet was in and out of her house all the time. Of course, that’s what she’d said about me, too…
“What family did Harriet have besides the Sykeses?” I asked.
“Nobody but Myrna ‘n’ me. Dixie and I are the onliest ones left, now.” She seemed struck by a sudden thought. “If Harriet died before Myrna, then wouldn’t Myrna have inherited anything she had to leave? You reckon it comes to me now? Dixie won’t like that.”
Eunice didn’t act like that bothered her one little bit.
It was nearly suppertime, but instead of heading home I drove on west out Fairview, toward the bus company headquarters I’d found listed in the telephone book. I had only a faint hope that I’d be able to get the name of the driver on the route near Oakwood Cemetery the week Harriet disappeared, and it was getting so late, he or she might have ended the day’s schedule. I had no idea what hours bus drivers worked. “Carter ought to be doing this,” I fumed aloud.
I sat in the parking lot and watched several buses pull into the lot. I was right, it was about time for the day schedules to get over. Hesitantly I climbed from my car and looked uncertainly toward the office.
“May I help you, ma’am?” A gentle giant of a man towered over me, the setting sun behind him obliterating the features of his dark face.
“I…I don’t know quite what I’m looking for,” I admitted. “I am wanting to find out who was driving a bus up near Oakwood Cemetery the first week of June. I’m trying to find out if they remember taking a child—” I fumbled in my purse for the copy of Harriet’s picture I’d begun to carry.
He studied the picture, then looked at me inquiringly. “I remember this girl very well, ma’am. I’m Jerry Banks, and I carried her to a stop about two blocks from the cemetery. Is something the matter?” His face was bony, the eyes deep-set and kind.
It must have been the sun in my eyes. Suddenly I felt too dizzy to stand. “Come with me,” Jerry Banks told me. “Here. This way. Lean on my arm.”
He led me to what I assumed was a driver’s lounge—vending machines and scattered tables. “Drink this,” he urged, handing me a cold canned Coke and showing me to a table. He sat down across from me and waited.
I sipped the drink gratefully and tried to laugh, but it came out more of a splutter. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t believe I’d found you right away.”
“It was odd, wasn’t it?” he agreed genially. “I’m not normally around at this time, but I forgot my lunchbox. Halfway home I suddenly remembered. Now what is it you want to know about that girl?” He clasped huge hands in front of him on the table.
“For one thing, do you remember when exactly you took her to the cemetery?”
He started to shake his head, considered, then nodded. “In fact, I do. It was a Tuesday. I don’t know the exact date—”
“The fourth. I know that much. But you’re sure it was Tuesday?”
“Absolutely. The reason is, the next day I woke up with a stomach virus and was out the rest of the week. Oo-ee, I was sick! I wasn’t on that route again until the next Monday.”
“Do you remember what time you dropped her off?”
“Round ‘bout noontime. She complained that it was a far piece to walk in that heat, and she was right. After I drove off, I wondered if she was going up to Hank Williams’s grave, on account of, it would have been nearer for her to ride a little farther to another stop.” He looked at me curiously. “Do you mind telling me what this is all about?”
“The girl was found a week later, dead under a bush in the cemetery.”
“Dear God a’mercy!” He rubbed one hand up and down one side of his face.
“Her picture was in the papers,” I pointed out. “You didn’t see it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t read papers. Ought to, but never seem to have the time. But you say this girl died up there that day?”
“They don’t know when she died. Not many people even remember when they saw her last.”
He sighed. “I knew I ought to take her home to my Netty. Netty knows what to do with strays. She feeds ‘em,
loves ‘em, and tells them about the blessed love of Jesus. That girl should have gone home to my Netty.”
I felt as sad as he looked. “She sure should have gone home to someone. Could we find out if anybody picked her up on the way back?”
He shook his head. “I’ll ask around, but most times we don’t remember people. I just happen to remember her in particular because she was as feisty as a tiger kitten, and seemed bound and determined to get up to that cemetery no matter how hot or far it was.”
Going to meet her mother,
I thought sadly. “Mr. Banks, if you think of anything more about that day—anything at all—or find somebody who picked her up on the way back, would you call me?” I handed him Jake’s number and opened my purse. “I owe you for a Coke.”
“Don’t mention it, ma’am. I’m just glad I forgot my lunchbox and came back for it. Looks like the good Lord wanted us to have this conversation, don’t it?”
My eyes were so full of tears that all I could do was smile, nod, and reach out to clasp his big hand tightly.
By that time, I was convinced that whoever Harriet met on that hilltop on Tuesday afternoon was the last person to see her alive. Where she was from Tuesday until she died I did not know, but I wanted to know where everybody who knew Harriet was around noon on June fourth. Kateisha had said Lewis was forming a volleyball team that afternoon. She would have noticed if he’d left, I was sure. Claire, Harriet’s trustee, had said she’d had meetings all day. That left Eunice, Ricky, and the Sykes family. Glenna suggested she could talk to the Sykeses easier than I could. I could read between the lines. She wanted to prove to me that nobody
she
knew had murdered a child in cold blood and left her under a bush.
Saturday morning, she sat right down and made the calls. First she thanked them for all they had done while
Jake was in the hospital, and reported he was almost back to his old ornery self. (Actually, she said it nicer than that.) Then she told them how sorry she was to learn that Harriet was dead, and asked if there was anything she could do. In the middle of all that she managed to find out the following:
“So none of them could have done it,” she said, utterly satisfied. But the truth was, there wasn’t one soul, including Lewis and Claire, who couldn’t have slipped up to the cemetery and met Harriet. If I’d been heading up a police investigation, I’d have sent people out checking with William’s sales clerks and Dee’s manicurist, Julie’s friend and Nora’s lake neighbors, probably even interviewing Lou Ella’s maid. All I knew to do was call Eunice.
“Why, that was the day I went to the doctor,” she said when she checked her calendar. “Remember? I told you, he said my blood pressure is mortal high. Like to worried me sick. It’s come down some now—although I don’t understand how it can, with all that’s been going on.” I didn’t, either. My own was probably sky-high, too.
Especially since there wasn’t one more thing I knew to do except get my clothes together for leaving the next day, then go for a ride with Glenna and Jake.
Saturday afternoon we drove up to Lake Jordan and enjoyed sunlight glinting on water. I asked Glenna to point out Nora’s house—a nice cedar home set back from the road right on the water. It told me nothing except what I
already knew: Nora had both taste and money. Glenna also pointed out a place she and Jake had their eye on if the owner ever decided to sell. We stopped for ice cream on the way back and got home in time for all of us to take a long nap. None of us are as young as we used to be.
Bloodthirsty men hate a man
of integrity and seek to kill
the upright.
Proverbs 29:10
While Mac and her family were enjoying a lazy weekend, I—Josheba—was getting madder and madder. Morse hadn’t gotten back, and my big dance was Saturday night.
I spent Saturday morning getting my hair freshened up, and the afternoon fetching my dress from the cleaners and buying a new pair of shoes. I called the rental place to see if Morse had picked up his tux. He hadn’t. I dropped by the house several times to see if he’d left a message on my machine. He hadn’t. He finally called about five.
I had come a long way that past week. Formerly I would have fallen all over him, glad to hear his voice. I guess I’d been that needy for love right after Mama died. Now I was annoyed and didn’t mind if he knew it. “When did you get back?” I demanded.
“Uh, baby, I’m not back yet. We—”
“How far away are you? We’ve been invited to join some people for dinner—” I stopped, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “You are coming, aren’t you? You promised.”
“I know I did, baby, but you just wouldn’t believe how great the river is right now. Why don’t you drive up tomorrow and spend a day or two?” His voice was as coaxing as if inviting me to join him was his sole purpose for calling.
“You mean you aren’t coming? Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“Now don’t whine, baby. You know I hate whiners.”
“Don’t keep calling me ‘baby,’ Morse. It’s not making me any less mad. And I’m not whining, I’m asking for information. If you’d called yesterday, I could have asked my cousin to take me. I don’t know if he can go this late.”
“You mean to tell me you’d go out dancing with somebody else, sweet thing?” His voice was still jovial, but with an edge I’d learned to dread.
Some habits are hard to break. Automatically I tried to calm him down—but my laugh sounded false even to my own ears. “He’s my cousin, for goodness sake! Two years younger than me, and more in love with racing cars than with women. A good dancer, though.”
“I don’t like to think of you dancing with anybody but me, Josheba. You just stay home until I get there.”
“Not if I can help it.” I hung up. The phone rang almost immediately and at intervals for the next hour. I let it ring.
Meanwhile, I called my cousin, but he was off racing somewhere. I was about to settle down for a long dull evening when I remembered Lewis talking about his days as a hotshot attorney. I dialed the teen center.
“Lewis, do you have a tux?” I blurted as soon as I heard his voice.
“Hey, Josheba! Sure I do. Want to borrow it?”
“It and you in it. I’ve been stood up for an important party tonight, and—” I stopped, realizing what I was
doing.
The man proposed to you, Josheba,
I told myself fiercely,
and here you are using him like a hired escort!
I burned with shame.
“Oh, Lewis, I’m sorry. I called before I thought. Listen, forget I said anything about a tux. But has Mac called you?”
“From a tux to Mac in one breath? Slow down, girl. First, what about Mac?”
“We were over at Kateisha’s on Thursday, and she said some dudes are planning to meet at the center early tomorrow morning. Six-thirty, I think she said.”
“As a matter of curiosity, how do they plan to get in—did she say?”
“No, but she said something about cookies or biscuits—something like that.”
“Biscuit. Thanks, Josheba. I’ll take care of it. Now, what was that about a tux?”
I sighed. “Morse isn’t coming back today after all, and a club I belong to is having a dance tonight. I wondered if maybe—”
He laughed. “Wonder no more. Morse’s loss is my gain. I’d even like to make that permanent. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up,” I said faintly. “About seven-thirty? It’s dinner and a dance.”
I still felt faint when I hung up, but then I started humming. As I dressed, it seemed like the time couldn’t pass fast enough. I found myself humming the whole time I was getting ready, and I seemed to be humming inside the whole evening.
Lewis wore a tux like he’d worn one all his life. I loved the way my friends looked at him—and at me—when I introduced him. I loved dancing against his shoulder. Dancing with Morse was always a bit like dancing with a bulldozer—he shoved me around the floor, and I let myself be shoved. Dancing with Lewis was like—dancing. If this was the last time I ever saw Lewis Henly (and
it certainly ought to be, the way I was beginning to feel), I would at least have something worth remembering.
In spite of getting home late, I woke early Sunday morning. The clock said not quite six. I wondered if Lewis had done anything about that six-thirty meeting over at his club. It would be just like him to think he could handle it without help.
I couldn’t lie there any longer. I could at least drive by and see if anything was going on. I pulled on the gray knit shorts, green T-shirt, and shoes I usually run in.
Like I planned, first I drove slowly past the center without stopping. The front door was closed and the street deserted except for one man out jogging with a Doberman. I drove around the block and back, intending to head home. Now the door was a little bit ajar.
My heart pounding, I parked around the corner and walked toward the center as inconspicuously as anybody could at that hour on a deserted street. At the door I gave a quick look around and darted quickly up the five shallow steps into the front hall.
I heard voices in Lewis’s office, so I slipped into the lounge and pushed the door slowly shut, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. It didn’t. I left just enough of a crack to peep out of and hear through.
A voice I didn’t recognize said, “They got Dré, man. What if he talks?”
“He ain’t gonna talk. Not if he knows what’s good for him.” That sounded like Ricky Dodd. “Say, where’s Z-dog? I ain’t waitin’ much longer. I got stuff to do, man.”
“Z-dog will be here when he gets here,” the first voice answered. “We wait till he does.” The front door closed with a bang. “Maybe that’s him now.”
It wasn’t. I had known those light footsteps just long enough to recognize them. Lewis’s voice rang out, cheerful
and normal. “Hey, fellows. What’s coming down? What you doin’ here at this hour, Biscuit?”
“Uh—we got a meetin’. We ain’t botherin’ nothin’, and I’m gonna lock up real good.”
There was a short thud, as if someone had lunged forward, then a grunt. Lewis spoke again. “Try that once more, Ricky, and I’ll break your neck. Now, clear out, both of you. This place is clean, and it’s going to stay that way as long as I have anything to say about it.”
Ricky’s reply was low—low enough for me to catch the slight sounds of the front door slowly opening and stealthy footsteps moving down the hall.
Putting my eye to the crack, I caught a glimpse of a stocky young man with very dark skin. His hair was cut short around his ears and snarled on top of his head. I recognized him at once: the youth at the library who stole Mac’s purse and her car. In spite of the heat, I shivered. The very air around him seemed poisoned.
My eyes darted from where I stood to the telephone on the desk. Could I reach it and call 911 without being heard? I tiptoed toward it.
“What have we here? A little friendly conference between homies?” The newcomer’s voice was about as friendly as a cobra’s.
“Z-dog!” Ricky exclaimed. “We were waitin’ for you.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“I run this place,” Lewis said, “and I object to meetings being held here that I haven’t called.”
Z-dog gave a short, deep laugh. “I hold meetings when and where I please, man.”
Lewis spoke evenly. “Not in my club you don’t. I don’t want any trouble, so why don’t you all find another place for your little conference?”
Z-dog laughed again. A more unpleasant sound I never hope to hear. “Think you got things under control, don’t you, Mr. Henly? But you know what? Your being
here just makes things easier for me. I’ve been wantin’ to terminate my relationship with Ricky here—”
Ricky squealed.
“No, Z-dog!” Biscuit begged.
“Shaddup,” Z-dog barked.
“Put down the gun, Z-dog,” Lewis ordered.
Urgently I pushed the phone buttons and held my breath. As soon as a dispatcher answered, I muttered, “Hurry! Send the police at once. There’s somebody here with a gun and I think he’s about to shoot!” I gave the address as quickly as I could, straining to hear what was going on in the other room. I couldn’t hear a thing. “Please hurry!” I repeated.
“Right away,” the dispatcher said crisply.
I put the receiver down silently and tiptoed back to the door to listen.
“…beautiful setup,” Z-dog was congratulating himself. “Kid killed by director of youth club, who kills himself in remorse.” Ricky was blubbering. “Too bad, homie!”
Again Z-dog laughed. I felt the hair on my neck rise.
I heard Lewis shout “Run, Rick!” as a shot rang out. Running feet thundered down the hall, and out the front door. I clung to the doorjamb, wondering what to do. Where were the police?
Someone groaned.
Someone else retched.
“You didn’t have to shoot him, man!” Biscuit blubbered. “He didn’t do nothin’.”
“Shaddup, or I’ll do you next. I gotta think. Who knew we was comin’ here?”
“Nobody, ‘cept you, me, Dré, and Ricky. You didn’t have to shoot
him,
man!” Biscuit’s voice rose to a scream. “You didn’t have to
shoot
him!” I heard a thump, a thud, and something skid into the hall. Then I heard another thud, and someone hit the floor.
I peeked out. Just outside my door lay the gun. I dashed out and snatched it up, marveling at how easily it
fit my hand. In an instant the stocky young man turned in the office doorway to face me. I leveled the gun at him.
Beyond him, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lewis sprawled on the floor against a filing cabinet, with Biscuit crumpled beside him. I dared not look at them longer. I had to concentrate on Z-dog until the police came.
Oh, God, where are they?
I begged.
Hurry, God, hurry!
I was praying and didn’t care.
“Give me that gun!” Z-dog reached out, fixing me with the coldest eyes I’d ever seen.
I took several steps back toward the lounge. “One more step and I shoot.” I was ashamed of the quiver in my voice and the way my hand was shaking.
He gave me a cocky grin. “I don’t think so.” He moved an inch closer.
I took a deep breath, aimed for his lower belly, and fired.
He reeled, clutched his groin, and fell, screaming oaths. In what must be incredible pain, he rolled over and started edging my way.
My hands were trembling so hard I knew I could not aim again. “Keep coming and I’ll fire again. I’ll probably kill you.” To my horror, I knew I’d do it.
He must have known, too, for he collapsed groaning onto the floor. I peered over him toward Lewis. Lewis’s shirt was covered with blood, and I heard his breath coming in short gasps. “Hang on, baby!” I urged him. “Hang on. Help’s coming. Hang on!”
Z-dog continued to groan, Biscuit to sob, and Lewis to gasp for air. The sounds were a ghastly trio that filled and overwhelmed me. How long could I stand, aiming a gun at two men while the only one I cared about bled to death a few feet away? Time stretched until I felt my nerves would snap. “Oh, God, help,” I found myself whimpering. “Oh, God, help!”
After what seemed like an eternity, I heard a shout behind me. “Lady, freeze!”
I turned. A police officer filled the front doorway, gun drawn.
“Thank God,” I breathed, tears of relief running down my cheeks. “These are the men you want, officer. I’m the person who called for help.” I shakily handed over the gun and ran to kneel on the floor beside Lewis. “Hang on, baby. Help is here. Hang on!”
Suddenly the center was full of police. One called for an ambulance. Another bent over Z-dog, who was still swearing and moaning in pain. A third handcuffed Biscuit, who sat on Lewis’s desk chair and blubbered like a baby. “He took the bullet for Rick. Z-dog hadn’t ought to shoot Lewis. He never done nobody any harm!”
“Shaddup!” an officer told him.
“Don’t be rough on him,” I said angrily. “If he hadn’t knocked the gun out of Z-dog’s hand, we might all be dead.”
The officer helped Biscuit up and out to a squad car with a bit more respect.
Lewis gasped for air. His head lolled to my shoulder, and his eyes looked into mine pleadingly. “Oh, baby—”
“Don’t talk,” I said urgently. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I did not want to take my hands from his hair to wipe them away. “Save your strength. Oh, Lewis, I love you.”
“Too late.” He reached out and clutched my arm. “Sorry, baby,” he said clearly, then his voice faded and his head lolled to my arm.
I screamed.
One of the officers touched my shoulder gently. “Okay, ma’am, the rescue unit is here. Can we just ask you a few questions in another room?”
I stared at him, not quite comprehending. He put one hand gently under my elbow and helped me to my feet. I wiped my cheeks with both hands, then bent and touched Lewis’s shoulder in farewell. He was past knowing or caring.
“Is he dead?” I asked, terrified.
“We need to examine him,” said one of the rescue people. “Let us by, please.”
The officer had to almost drag me across the hall to the lounge. “I want to know if he’s all right,” I begged.
“I’ll ask them to let us know.” He went back out and returned very soon. “His vital signs are faint, but he’s still breathing. Now, suppose you tell me what happened.”
Sometime while I was talking, I looked down and saw that my clothes were smeared with blood. They seemed to belong to somebody else.
He took notes without comment until I had finished, then asked, “Tell me again how you happened to be in this building this morning. I don’t quite understand.”
I didn’t want Kateisha or Mac involved, so I weighed my answer very carefully, eyes on a tissue I was wadding between my hands. It, too, was smeared with Lewis’s blood. “I…I was driving by and saw the door ajar. I know—” I stopped. Should that be “knew”? “I
know
the director,” I said with emphasis, “so I came in to see if something was wrong.” I brushed my hand over my forehead. “Sorry, officer, I’m not thinking too clearly. When I got here, I heard Ricky Dodd…”