The Pecan Man(25)

“That boy didn’t follow me home,” Eddie said.

I felt my jaw drop in spite of my many years of instruction in good manners.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Eddie,” I leaned forward and whispered. “I know Marcus talked to you that evening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin' about,” he spoke with his jaw clinched tight and turned his head toward the wall. I couldn’t let him off the hook this time.

“You most certainly do know what I’m talking about. Marcus followed you home from my house and asked you about what happened to Grace.” I paused briefly and got only silence for response.

“Marcus came to my house that night. He stayed the night and left for North Carolina the next morning. I know he spoke to you because he told me he did.”

Eddie turned his head slowly back toward me. “What time did he come to yo’ house that night?”

“He got there about 9:30. Why?”

“He look all right to you then?”

“Eddie, if you know something I don’t know, I think you’d better tell me. I know you didn’t kill Skipper Kornegay, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’d lie to your attorney about talking to Marcus when Marcus told me himself that you did.”

I wasn’t even sure what I expected him to say. I just knew it was odd that he’d lie about something like that.

He studied my face for a minute, like he was trying to see something in it. His dark eyes darted back and forth a couple of times and then his face went blank and he stared back at the wall.





“I thought you said you were sticking to the truth,” I said quietly.

“I don’t know if I can trust you, tha’s all,” he said, still staring at the wall.

“You can,” I said, and I meant it.

He turned and looked me straight in the eye.

“I saw Marcus twice that night. Once when he came to talk to me and then later on that night when that boy chased him into the woods.”

“Oh,” I said and my shoulders sagged heavily. “What else did you see?”

“I didn’t really see what happened,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I just saw what was left when it was done. He musta come straight to yo’ house from there.”

I nodded. “He did.”

“Then you know, too?”

I took a huge breath. “I do.”

He looked back at the wall.

“Why haven’t you said anything to the police? Or to your attorney for that matter?” I was baffled by his silence.

“I’m not really sure ‘zactly why. I jes’ know that Miz Blanche done been through enough this year and I cain’t go bringin’ no harm to her or her family. Why hadn‘t you told?”

“Same reason, I suppose. I just couldn’t put her through it. She still doesn‘t know.”

“I didn’t figure she did,” he said.

“I still don’t get it, though. You could be out of this jail by now.” I was genuinely puzzled.

“Miz Beckworth, with all due respect, I jus' as soon not talk about it no more. The boy done been killed and laid to rest and nothin’ I can say go'n bring him back to his Mama. Tellin’ about Marcus wouldn’t do nothin’ but bring a heap of grief onto a family what done had more'n they share already. I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about the boy. Not now, not ever.”





Thirteen





By Christmas time, things were settling down around my house. I decided not to put up a tree at all. Walter had always climbed the pull-down attic steps to retrieve the Christmas decorations and huge artificial tree we erected each year, but neither Blanche nor I had any business trying such a thing. With all the time I had spent visiting Eddie, I hadn’t had time to miss the decorations.

Every year, I gave Blanche a sizable bonus at Christmas and I made sure her family’s name was on the list of Christmas charities I supported. I wanted her children to have a decent Christmas without being embarrassed or beholden to me, so I kept my benevolence at arm's length. At least, that's what I told myself I was doing. Blanche's children soon proved me wrong once again.

I remember sitting by the fire one night thinking about the holidays of the past. It was the night I finally burned Marcus’s clothes, as a matter of fact. I had forgotten to call the chairman of the Needy Family program at the Baptist church to remind her about Blanche. I also had a feeling, which turned out to be accurate in the end, that my absence from the Ladies’ Auxiliary over the past year would not put me in good stead with that group. I thought about buying gifts for the children myself and quickly pushed that thought aside. What did I know about buying gifts for children? I didn’t know their tastes in toys or clothes, much less their sizes.

That’s when I thought about the bag of clothes that was still up in my closet. Blanche had been gone for hours. There was no reason I couldn’t finally rid myself, once and for all, of the evidence I’d been hiding. I put my embroidery on the lamp stand, rose from my chair and walked over to the fire, which was burning low in the grate. The black metal screen, which kept the popping embers from scorching my thick oval rug, was warm to the touch. I moved it aside, reached for the wrought iron poker hanging in its stand and nudged the glowing logs. They crackled and hissed, then settled back down to an orange glow. I left the screen where it was and went upstairs to retrieve the clothes.