Chapter Six
She said her name was Sally Ann Martin, and that her father was James Martin, sheriff of the Ransom Police Department. Just then a man came in to buy cigarettes, and we were interrupted. When he left she said that she got off work at ten and I took the cue. We arranged to meet and talk some more.
When I got home it was after eight and my grandmother was fast asleep. I had a drink and watched TV for awhile before heading back to the 7-11 to meet Sally Ann. I arrived as she was saying goodbye to her replacement, a man of retirement age who smiled and waved at me.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” I replied, not sure of what to say.
“Why don’t you follow me home and we can sit on the porch and talk?” she suggested. It was a cool night and the idea seemed like a good one.
I followed her station wagon down Beechnut Street and turned onto Bowie Lane, where she pulled into the driveway of a wooden two-story frame house. The light was on above the porch and I saw that it had a rocking chair and an old sofa. I parked my Chevy on the street in front and met her on the walk leading to the front steps.
“Come in for a minute and meet my mom and dad,” she said, and I followed her up the porch steps and through the screen door.
Her father was sitting on a sofa in the front room, watching television. I heard water running in the kitchen, where her mother was doing dishes. Sheriff Martin stood up when he saw me. Sally Ann spoke first.
“Hi, dad. This is Carey Lovett. I met him today at the store.”
“Pleased to meet you, son,” said the sheriff. He was taller than I by a couple of inches, with grey hair cut in a brush cut, and he wore suit pants and a white linen shirt, open at the neck.
“Thank you, sir,” I replied, and I saw his face register at my lack of a southern accent. “I’m down from New Jersey to visit my grandmother. Mary Lovett.”
He smiled at the name. “I’ve known Mary since I was a boy. How is she?”
“Not too well,” I replied, and gave him a brief rundown on her condition.
“That’s too bad. I’ll have to get out that way and see her before too long.”
At this point, Sally Ann jumped in and said we were going out to sit on the porch. He shook my hand and offered iced teas if we got thirsty.
We went back out to the porch. Sally Ann sat in the rocker and I sat on the sofa. The night was warm and noisy with crickets, and she had switched off the porch light to keep the bugs away. There was a unit on the side of the house that attracted them and then electrocuted them; every so often, our speech was punctuated with the sound of insects being fried.
Sally Ann’s red hair danced in the breeze. “So what do you know about Lulabelle Mackenzie?” I said, though I was thinking about how Sally Ann Martin looked sitting on that porch in the moonlight. She pushed her hair aside with a small, white hand.
“I didn’t know her too well myself,” she began. “The white kids and the black kids didn’t have much to do with each other when we were in school. But I did run into her once at a football game.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“It was when we were both seniors,” she began, “not quite two years ago. I was at a game with the kids I always went with, and everyone was getting pretty excited. We were all sitting in the stands, and there were a bunch of black kids hanging out below the stands.”
“Go on,” I said, getting interested and enjoying watching her speak.
“I had a gold bracelet that I had been given for my sixteenth birthday and there was a big play. We all jumped up and I just lost it--the bracelet, I mean--and it fell through the bleachers. I was upset, and my boyfriend and I walked down to the field and around behind the bleachers.
“There was a group of black kids down there and I was nervous, but my boyfriend excused himself and we bent over and went under the bleachers to have a look.”
“And?” I asked.
“We couldn’t find it. We looked all around and even had our friends up in the seats help us by pointing to where it should be, but it wasn’t there. I couldn’t figure it out and I got more upset©©I was crying, because the bracelet meant a lot to me.”
“How does Lulabelle come into it?”
“She was one of the group standing there, talking. I heard them talking and it sounded like they were arguing about something. I didn’t think anything of it, but as we were walking away a voice called out to us. It was Lulabelle, though I didn’t know her by name then, and she had the bracelet. She handed it to me and told me her friend had picked it up.
“I had a feeling what had happened, but I didn’t say anything, I was just so happy to get it back. My boyfriend glared at the group, but I pulled him along and we went back up to our seats.”
She smoothed back her hair and smiled at me.
“Did you see her again after that?”
“Yes. After that, we were acquaintances for the rest of the school year. We’d speak whenever we saw each other around school but I never got to know her too well. I don’t think I saw her again after graduation.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yes. I did see her brother around town once in a while.”
“Her brother?”
“Raymond. He worked at the bakery.”
“The bakery? Which one?”
“Oak Street. Ever been there?”
Had I ever been there? Of course I had. My cousins owned it, and I’d been going there with my grandmother since I was a kid for free doughnuts and cookies. “Sure I do,” I told her, and explained.
We spent some more time talking on her porch, and I got a nice goodnight kiss before I left around eleven. I didn’t know then that she and I would be involved in another murder.
No comments:
Post a Comment