'She probably will before it's all over,' he sighed.
I suddenly remembered I hadn't mentioned Cindy before and glanced at Dwight with guilt all over my face like yolk on an egg-sucker.
'Yeah,' he said reproachfully. 'Sure do 'preciate you telling me about little Cindy McGee getting it on with Bannerman.'
'How'd you hear? Mrs. Bannerman? Who told her?'
'He did. Not straight out in words, of course, but she and that Grimes woman followed him to the dance Saturday night. Saw him cut Cindy out of the herd, asked someone who she was, then followed them all the way to the Days Inn over near Fuquay.'
Dwight shook his head. 'I tell you, that Grimes woman is wasted babysitting trailer rats. She's watched so many cop shows she knows every tailing trick in the book.'
Dwight finished feeding the pup, tucked it back in its box, then poured himself a hair more sour mash. 'Got another Pepsi?'
I rooted around in the refrigerator and found one. 'They didn't happen to follow him tonight, did they?'
'She says they didn't, but I sent Jack over to the trailer park to ask about 'em.'
He sipped his drink, then added, 'Sent Mayleen Richards to talk to little Cindy.'
My heart sank. 'Aw, Dwight, she's just a kid.'
'Not after Saturday night, she's not,' he said cynically.
'I was thinking about poor Gladys McGee. Losing Ralph and now to have to hear how her daughter's mixed up in this.'
'Well, it's not like Mayleen's going to show up flashing a scarlet A. She'll be tactful. Gladys won't have to know a thing, if Cindy keeps her head. After all, she and the Byrd girl were both there with Annie Sue earlier, right? It's the most natural thing in the world to ask them if they saw anything. If Cindy went straight home, then she's got nothing to worry about. If not—'
He shrugged and sipped his drink and left me to finish his thought.
Teenagers can be creatures of impulse. I knew that. And I'd sat in enough courtrooms to know that children can kill if they act before they think.
'I guess I can see Cindy or Rochelle Bannerman doing it quicker than I can see Herman,' I said.
'How you figure?'
'All three of them might've grabbed up the hammer and smashed Bannerman over the head if they walked in on him while he was trying to rape Annie Sue, but Herman wouldn't panic and run. No way would he have left her lying there.'
Dwight looked skeptical.
'Think how you'd feel if it was Cal.' Even though he didn't get to see his young son very often—Jonna had custody of Cal and they lived up in Shaysville, Virginia, now—I knew how he felt about the boy. 'Would you just leave him there?'
'Maybe not,' he admitted. 'Okay. No, I wouldn't. Not unless I was on the verge of a heart attack or stroke maybe.'
Thinking about the damage Bannerman could keep inflicting after his death made me broody. 'Used to be they hanged first-degree rapists in this state.'
'Used to be a lot of things they did in this state they don't do anymore.' Dwight drained his glass. 'And you can either thank the Lord or curse the devil.'
I gestured toward the bottles, but he shook his head and stood up to go. 'Now there's nothing else that may have slipped your mind to tell me, is there?'
'No.'
'You sure?'
'I'm positive,' I said and honestly believed I was telling him the truth. * * *
Aunt Zell and Uncle Ash were leaving as I brought the puppy downstairs for its breakfast next morning.
'Herman's awake and talking a little,' Aunt Zell reported, 'but he's still awfully weak and they still don't know why.'
'Tell Nadine I'll come this evening,' I said, 'but call me if there's any change. I'll cancel court if I need to. And don't worry about your hound. I'll come home and feed him at lunchtime.'
'And don't forget to wash his little bottom.'
Uncle Ash laughed and left to back the car out of the garage.
'I'm dithering, aren't I?' Aunt Zell asked ruefully. 'Here I was planning to get my hair done and then run into Raleigh for a new nightgown to take to Paris, and now—but listen, honey. Sallie said you could bring him down to her if you think you're going to be tied up.'
'We'll be just fine. Hug Herman for me, okay?' I gave her a hug, too, and pushed her out the door.
Almost three weeks old now, the puppy was as cute and appealing as any baby animal, a fat brown and white beagle with a white tail no bigger than my little finger that stood straight up when it tried to walk on its Jell-O legs; but tending to its needs at both ends of its alimentary canal left me with no appetite for the fruit and cereal Aunt
