McDaniel was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Well, we can’t exactly evacuate everyone in a five-mile radius of a crime scene, or even a one-mile radius, not even for a little while. We certainly can’t clear them all out indefinitely. And I do think the killer knew Frida and had it in for her, specifically. I honestly don’t think he’s prowling around those woods looking for somebody new to bludgeon. So what would I do in your shoes? Hmm…well, I do think I’d stay and do the job.”
“Even if it means keeping five community college students within that five-mile radius? I’m responsible for them, you know.”
His answer was quick and sure. “I’m sure you had them sign releases.”
“Morally responsible. I’m the adult here, and I have to balance the good that this job is doing them, personally and financially, against any danger I’m putting them in.”
“So you’re balancing a job that could put them on a path to an education and a lifetime of steady employment against a theoretical danger that comes from a killing that happened more than a mile away? Faye, you’re giving a chance to young people who haven’t had many of those. One of them lost a father to murder, right?”
“Two. Richard and Stephanie.” Having lost her own father, Faye ached for them.
“And one of them has a juvenile record?”
“Davion. Jeremiah says he was arrested years ago for a bar brawl.” Faye didn’t like the way that this information stamped calm, thoughtful Davion with a label that said, “Dangerous,” so she hurriedly added, “But he hasn’t been in any trouble since.”
“Faye, if you want to know the truth, I think you’re doing the Lord’s work. I say you keep these kids on the job. You were smart to move them to that motel downtown. Institute a buddy system, for sure. Murderer or not, you don’t want any of those kids prowling the Beale Street bars all alone. And I’ll do my part by sending officers to drive by your worksite and the hotel several times a day. You’d be amazed at the impact of the sight of a black-and-white on your average criminal.”
“Thank you for that, but do you really think Frida was killed by an average criminal?” Faye felt compelled to disagree with that position, one more time and for the record. “I don’t think there was anything average about her murder.”
It crossed her mind to ask if he’d be so sure that Frida was killed by an average everyday murderer-down-the-street if she’d died in a ritzier zip code, but she squelched that impulse.
“Honestly? I think she was killed by a mean, vindictive ex-boyfriend. Or ex-husband. She had more than one mean, vindictive ex, so it may take me a while, but I’m going to find out which one killed her, and I’m going to nail his sorry ass to the wall. In the meantime, I think you and your crew should enjoy sunny Memphis in July. You couldn’t have come in October? Or May? It’s beautiful here in May, but I advise staying in your air-conditioned house in July.”
“I can’t afford to do that. Amazingly enough, my phone company expects me to write them checks every July.”
“Mine, too.”
A factory outlet store near Laneer’s house had sold Faye a yellow dress in Frida’s size. It was the same sunny shade as the one the murdered woman had worn on her last night. The bodice was supported by slender straps, just like Frida’s had been. She had almost gotten a pair of strappy silver heels, but she’d remembered at the last minute that “open casket funeral” really meant “half-open casket funeral.” Frida’s body would only be visible from the waist up, so the shoes weren’t necessary, and Kali would never know if the skirt of the dress was all wrong. It just might be possible that this dress would fool her.
Laneer met her on the front porch, so that Kali wouldn’t see her deliver this yellow dress. When Faye handed it to Laneer, still in the shopping bag, she said, “People will send a lot of flowers. Tell the funeral home to put some in the casket with her. You know—to cover up the dress as much as possible. If we’re lucky, Kali will never notice the difference.”
She said good-bye, then turned back to the old man. “I forgot. There’s another dress in the bag, a black one for Kali. I went ahead and got it, because most little girls don’t own black dresses. Children like happy colors.”
In her car, yet another dress waited in a second shopping bag, black and in Faye’s size, because she didn’t travel with funeral-appropriate clothes. As she opened her car door, one last thought occurred to her.
“Laneer,” she called out. “The flowers. Tell the funeral home to use pink carnations in the casket with Frida. They’ll tell you that they won’t look good on a yellow dress, but you insist. They’re what Kali wants.”
Faye was drifting into a troubled sleep when a ringing phone brought her back to a troubled reality. Her first thought was that Joe was calling to nag her to come home, but the voice that answered her was female. She threw on a robe and crept out into the hall, so that she could talk without waking Yvonna. Faye pretended she didn’t know that Yvonna was her new roommate because she had lost a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Yvonna really needed to learn to pick paper sometimes.
Settling herself in the stairwell that had become her impromptu office, Faye said, “Sylvia? Is that you? Is something wrong? Is Kali okay?”
“Kali’s fine. Everything’s fine. She’s stretched out on Laneer’s couch, sleeping like a baby. I think you tired her out with that walk and that trip to the fancy hotel restaurant. When she starts talking to me again, I’m going to get her to tell me all about it.”
Faye didn’t want to ask, “If
