Tally came back with an opened bottle of beer, and he thirstily chugalugged several swallows.
“TV people were all over the front end,” he said. “They get back here?”
Tally shook her head. “What’s happening with Polly?”
“They’ve taken her to Chapel Hill. They think she killed herself.”
“
He reached out to touch her hand. “They’re not saying, but from the questions they asked, and the way they were being extra careful to bag up her shoes...”
“What?” Tally prodded.
“They may be thinking she’s the one killed Braz.”
CHAPTER 16
MONDAY NIGHT (CONTINUED)
It was a little past nine when I left Tally and Arnie. People were gathering around the two trailers, bringing lawn chairs and coolers, ready to spend the rest of the evening talking about Polly and Braz and offering what comfort they could. Even though Tally seemed to accept me now, I knew my presence would make the others uncomfortable, so I drew a map to show Arnie how to get to the farm, then I hugged Tally goodnight and repeated April’s invitation to bring as many of their friends tomorrow as wanted to be there.
Windy Raines, with rough courtesy, offered to walk me to my car, but I told him I’d be fine.
As indeed I was. Officers still milled around the Plate Pitch, but the reporters with their cameras seemed to have moved on and there was no sign of Dwight, either, till I got to my car and found a prowl car parked along side. The window was down, and he seemed to be catching a cat nap behind the steering wheel.
“Hey,” I said softly. “You asleep?”
He opened one eye. “Nope. Just wondering if I ought to come looking for you. See if you’re all right.”
“I was talking to Tally.”
“I figured.”
He yawned, got out, and stretched. “She okay?”
“I think so. It’ll probably be better after tomorrow’s over. Do you want to come to the funeral?”
“Yeah, I probably ought to be there.”
“Arnold Ames thinks you think Polly Viscardi killed Braz.”
“Does he?”
“
“C’mon, Deb’rah. Be fair. You know it’s too soon to say about things like that.”
I subsided, knowing he was right.
He looked at his watch. “Still early. Not even nine thirty yet. You reckon Mr. Kezzie’s still up?”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly, knowing where he was going with this and knowing I couldn’t put it off any longer. “What about Miss Emily?”
“She’s a night owl,” he said. “Want to follow me out?”
“Slow as you drive? I could tell my whole family and be home in bed before you get to your mother’s.”
He smiled down at me. “Don’t count on it. I got me a blue light here. You break the speed limit and I’m pulling you over.”
Despite his threat, when we drove back through town, he turned off at the courthouse and I knew he was going to pick up his truck rather than drive the prowl car out to Miss Emily’s. All the same, I kept it under the speed limit all the way out to the homeplace as I tried to decide how I was going to tell Daddy.
The moon was high in the sky, shinier than a newly minted quarter. I turned in at the rusty old mailbox that bore only a number on the side, crested the ridge, and eased down the long driveway. There was a light on at the back of the house, but the dogs came off the front porch to greet me. As I looked more closely, I saw Daddy sitting there on the swing in the deep shadows cast by the tall magnolia trees that grew along the path.
“Was wondering if I was gonna see you tonight,” he said, when I got out of the car.
I turned and looked down the slope to the edge of the yard and our family graveyard. With the moon nearly full, I could see Duck Aldcroft’s funeral tent and a dark mound beyond.
Daddy got up and joined me in the yard. I slipped my arm through his and together we walked down to the newly dug grave. That dark mound was the dirt that had been dug up, covered now with carpeting that I knew to be navy blue, though it would have been hard to tell in the moonlight even when it was this bright.
“Never could understand why grave diggers feel they got to hide the dirt,” Daddy said. “You reckon they think people don’t know that’s what’s gonna be covering them?”
“Have you talked to Andrew today?” I asked.
