Southern Discomfort Part 17

"And if you can't, you'll let Annie Sue do it while you ride around from job to job and supervise," I said.

He'd been told all the details of the night he collapsed and he shook his head stubbornly. "If I hadn't let her stay there working by herself, that b.a.s.t.a.r.d'd never touched her."

"You can't wrap her in cotton. Anyhow, the kid's pretty good at it. Rufus Dayley sent over another inspector sometime this week and he gave her an 'A-OK' on the rough-in."

"Did he now?" He tried to look nonchalant and didn't quite succeed.

It was still a wonder to him where he could have gotten a.r.s.enic. He and Nadine had wracked their brains for Mr. O'Connor and neither could think of a single place he'd eaten when others hadn't partaken of the same dishes.

"Abandoned wells?"

"I carry my own water cooler for my workers and an ice chest with drinks."

"What about pottery juice mugs? I've heard that the acid in fruit juice can leach a.r.s.enic out of ceramic cups and pitchers."

"His orange juice comes right out of the Minute Maid carton and right into the same plain gla.s.ses we've had for ten years," said Nadine.

As for Carver Bannerman, Herman knew he was a county inspector and remembered now that he'd seen him several times at the Coffee Pot. They had never exchanged more than a few words in pa.s.sing, though, and certainly they'd never shared a meal anywhere else that he knew of.

"Dwight and Terry," Herman said. "When they were here the other night, they think I was the one killed Bannerman?"

"You, Annie Sue or me, one. But only because of the circ.u.mstances."

He nodded. "I reckon any of us would've."

"Would've what?" chirped Annie Sue from the doorway.

Inevitably she was trailed by Cindy and Paige, and I was touched by the sadness in Paige's brown eyes as my niece scampered over to Herman for a big bear hug.

"Think how much you'd miss your daddy," whispered the preacher.

"Perry Byrd was an intolerant bigot and racist," the pragmatist sniffed. "He must have been h.e.l.l on hinges to live with."

"He was her father, and now he's gone forever."

"Humph! Ralph McGee's gone forever, too, but you don't see Cindy mooning over Herman and Annie Sue."

Indeed, her face was brightly animated as she chattered with Nadine.

The girls were quickly followed by more friends and relatives who still believed in visiting the sick and comforting the afflicted. By eight-thirty, the room was so full that we spilled out into the hall, a dozen different conversations going at once.

n.o.body would miss me if I left, I reasoned, and maybe it was still early enough to zip over to K.C.'s cottage. Watch the moon rise above Jordan Lake. See how the steaks were holding up.

Not to mention the men.

The night air was deliciously cool as I headed toward the parking lot, but I'd only gotten as far as the ramp when I heard running footsteps behind me.

"Miss Deborah! Judge Knott?"

Paige Byrd.

"Are you going home now? Could I ride with you? Please?"

I hesitated, and she drooped like a bright-headed zinnia deprived of water. "Oh. You're going somewhere else, aren't you? I'm sorry."

"No, no," I lied. "Come along. It'll be nice to have company."

"K.C.'s party," whined the pragmatist. "Why are you feeling guilty about this child? This is so irrational. Let her ride home with Cindy and Annie Sue."

"You have an obligation," said the preacher. "You don't have to take her to raise, only to remember that you're sitting in her father's seat and that gives her a claim on you."

The pragmatist sat sulking in the corner of my brain, but I made myself smile at the girl as I unlocked my car door. "Did you tell Annie Sue you were leaving?"

She nodded. "Suddenly, it was just so smothery in there. I thought I was going to faint if I didn't get out."

We talked of claustrophobia and scary experiences with elevators and tunnels, yet even after we had cleared the lights of Chapel Hill and were out on I-40 East zooming toward Dobbs, I kept feeling waves of tension from her. Nothing I said seemed to put her at ease.

Inevitably our talk drifted toward Carver Bannerman, his opportunistic treatment of Cindy and his attack on Annie Sue, and how Annie Sue was more worried about Mr. Herman and what was going to happen to him than what had nearly happened to her.

"At first she was scared maybe he was the one who'd hit Carver with the hammer," Paige said.

"I know. But he didn't. Major Bryant's narrowed down the time to when he ran off the road and collapsed, so that proves he couldn't have."

"If he had, what would've happened to Mr. Herman?"

"He'd probably have been charged with voluntary manslaughter."

"And gone to jail?"

"Not necessarily."

She picked up on the curiosity in my voice. "Are these stupid questions? Dad never talked about his work much and the only time I was in his courtroom was when our whole history cla.s.s went."

"Well, manslaughter's usually defined as the unlawful killing of a human being without malice," I explained. "There's voluntary, involuntary and vehicular. Vehicular's when a death is caused by driving recklessly. You didn't mean to kill someone, but you weren't being careful. Involuntary manslaughter is usually from criminal negligence. You might argue that death occurred because of a tragic accident; the prosecution will argue that you should have realized that the situation could result in someone's death."

"And voluntary?"

"That's when you meant to kill him, but-"

"If you meant to," she interrupted, "why isn't it murder?"

"For it to be murder, you'd have to think about killing somebody ahead of time and you'd probably try to do it so n.o.body would know you were the killer. In other words, intent to kill and premeditation. Those are the two elements of murder in the first degree. But voluntary manslaughter is when you did it in the heat of pa.s.sion, without malice aforethought-no intent, no premeditation-and usually with plenty of provocation."

"Like Carver trying to rape Annie Sue."

"Exactly. No jury in the world would convict a man for trying to prevent his daughter's rape. At the most he'd get a suspended sentence. Maybe some community service. Under the circ.u.mstances, a district attorney might decline to prosecute or the judge might well dismiss the charges."

She was silent as we exited from I-40 before reaching Raleigh and angled south onto Forty-Eight.

I glanced over and by the lights of the dashboard, I saw that her cheeks were wet with tears.

"Paige?"

"It's all my fault! I shouldn't have left." Her voice was ragged with repressed sobs. "Annie Sue's the very best friend I ever had-the first best friend I ever had-and I went and left her both times! But when Mr. Herman-"

"Hey, wait a minute," I said, reaching out to pat her shoulder with my free hand. "Carver Bannerman was slime. If it hadn't been Annie Sue, he would have jumped someone else, and sooner or later, someone was going to jump him back. You couldn't know he was going to show up that night. And as for Herman, surely by now you know that his bark's worse than his bite?"

She shook her head. "Annie Sue always said-"

There was a service center up ahead and Paige was so distrait that I pulled in and cut the engine, and opened the windows so that the cool night air could sweep over us.

"Look, honey, I know y'all haven't known each other all that long, but don't you see how Annie Sue dramatizes everything? Her daddy growls a lot, but when it comes right down to it, have you ever known him not to let her do something she really wants to do? They're crazy about each other."

Instead of rea.s.suring her, I seemed to be making her more miserable. The worst thing about bucket seats is that you can't scoot over and hug somebody easily. Nevertheless, I unbuckled my seat belt and tried, but she was stiff in my arms. At this point, Annie Sue or any of my nieces would have their faces snuggled into my neck, bawling their eyes out, and already feeling better; but Paige couldn't let herself melt into the comfort of a sympathetic hug. She was choking on silent sobs and painful tremors shook her hunched shoulders.

It broke my heart to think of her going almost sixteen years without a best friend to giggle and cry with, to talk girl talk and swap secrets; and now that she did, she felt that she had somehow let her friend down, had failed Annie Sue when- Wait a minute... both times?

"You left, took Cindy home, and then you went back to the WomenAid house, didn't you?"

Her eyes were dark pools of terror as she pulled away. She tried to deny, to shake her head, but no sound came out.

"You hit Carver Bannerman?"

Paige's eyes dropped and a long shudder ran through her. "I didn't mean to kill him. Honest!"

Across the broad expanse of concrete, cars pulled in and out at the gas pumps under a bright white shelter, and their headlights flashed onto Paige's pale face.

"When I got up on the porch and went through the doorway, I saw Annie Sue fighting him."

Her words began in hesitant spates, then quickened into a torrent.

"At first I didn't know if they were, you know, fighting or playing. And then, just as it hit me what was going on and I saw her trying to pull away, the light smashed and I could barely see them anymore. I couldn't hear either. Not her anyhow. Just him. Grunting like an animal. It was awful!"

"A hammer was lying there on a crosspiece and I grabbed it up-all I could think was he was hurting her and I had to make him stop. He had pulled her shorts down and was squirming all over her and she wasn't moving and when he started undoing his own pants, I yelled at him and he came up at me with a roar and I just hit him and hit him and-"

At last the sobs tore through her words and she clung to me while wave after wave of terror and anguish crashed through her body.

"I was so scared," she whispered as the first storm eased. "And my hands were all b.l.o.o.d.y. He just lay there across the sawbench and didn't move. I could feel the walls closing down on me and I had to get out. Wash my hands. Get clean. I even forgot all about Annie Sue till I was in the car and halfway down the street. It was still raining and getting dark and I drove around the block trying to think what to do. There were some paper napkins under my front seat and I wet one in a puddle by the side of the road and got the worst off my hands and off my steering wheel."

As she talked, she twisted the tissue I had given her into shreds. I fished another out of my pocket and watched it, too, come apart in her restless fingers.

"I couldn't leave Annie Sue there, maybe hurt bad, so I drove back just in time to see you getting out of your car. I knew you'd take care of her, so I went home. I was still in the shower when Cindy called and I just acted like I'd been there the whole time."

"Your mother didn't notice how upset you were? Your clothes?"

"She wasn't there. She spends a lot of time with my Aunt Faith now that Dad's gone."

Paige swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked at me fearfully. "What'll they do to me, Miss Deborah?"

I sighed. "Who's your family attorney?"

CHAPTER 17.

CHALK LINES.

"Long straight lines between distant points on surfaces are marked by snapping a chalk line... For an accurate snap, never snap the chalk line over a twenty-foot distance."

Perry Byrd's attorney was a man who'd run against me in the primary, Edward "Big Ed" Whitbread, from Widdington over in the next county. They were old pat-f.a.n.n.y teammates from way back, but when it came to defending her daughter, Mrs. Byrd showed that she'd been paying attention over the years and ignored any cronyistic instructions Perry might be trying to send from the grave. As soon as Paige finished telling her what she'd told me, Eleanor Byrd pulled herself together and called Zack Young, the best criminal lawyer in Colleton County and the man who'd tied a knot in her husband's tail more than once over the years.

At Paige's urging, I went with them to the courthouse. Gwen Utley was the magistrate on duty that night. She arraigned Paige on a charge of voluntary manslaughter, then set such a low bail that she might as well have not bothered, just gone on and released her into Eleanor's custody.

Zack emerged from his first conference with Paige and immediately announced his young client would not be pleading guilty.

"This is justifiable homicide, pure and simple," he told me as we walked through the dim echoing halls afterwards. "As clear a case of self-defense as you'll find in any textbook."

He cut his eyes at me. "Conflict with anything she told you earlier?"

I set his mind at rest. "No. When she tried to pull him off Annie Sue, she said he came up toward her with a roar. She may well have thought he'd knock her out and rape her, too."

"You'd testify to that?"

"Certainly."

We came out onto the side street next to the parking lot and he slouched off toward his car. "See you in court, Judge honey."

Zack or Dwight. Bound to be one of 'em picked up on it.

I'd been up since six. A long physical day. Emotionally draining as well. Yet I was too wired to go home.

But I had more than one home, didn't I?

And a lopsided moon was halfway up a star-studded sky, wasn't it?

Without hardly thinking twice, I turned the car toward Cotton Grove; and once I was on Old Forty-Eight south of town, I just let it find its own way back to the farm.

Unless you're from the area and grew up knowing, there's nothing much to indicate that a house might be somewhere up the rutted lane, only a battered tin mailbox with a faded number and no name. The hogwire fence is overgrown with cow-itch vine and Virginia creeper. The posts that once held it are rotted away and the fence is now supported by jack oaks and pines that have grown up and through the rusty hog wire.