Unbury Carol(64)

“Sure. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“But…”

“But what, now?”

Farrah breathed deep. “Before she fell, before our walk in the garden, I overheard the two of them arguing.”

“Uh-huh. Arguing.”

“And Carol was telling Mister Evers something about…the next time it happens and someone else needs to know. Something like that.”

“The next time what happens?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that all?”

“No.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She also told Mister Evers that it was time to let me in.”

“Let who in?”

“Me.”

“Into what? Any idea?”

“None, sir.”

Opal nodded. He made to speak but Farrah cut him off.

“I don’t mean to accuse, but…but Mister Evers really was intent on…finding something out.” Farrah’s eyes were red with it. “I don’t know what it means. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said as much.”

Opal nodded, studying the girl’s face. Noting how dry her face looked despite her tears. As if her skin was flaking with her lady’s. As if she’d cried and dried up six times today already.

“I’m not asking you to accuse, Farrah. But the way I like to work is to get a feel for things. You see, once I had a man come to me and tell me his brother had a terrible accident with a shovel. I listened to him but then I got to thinking that the words he used to describe his brother weren’t the kindest words a man ever used. I egged this side of him on a bit, you see, and sure enough, turned out the man had done his own brother in and was looking to cover it up. You, here, just sort of said something that caught my ear is all. You worrying about accusing someone makes me think you had the thought yourself. And you never can tell when one of those silly old thoughts ends up being nothing other than the truth. They’re worth checking, I’d say.”

Farrah looked up and down the street now. “I’m not sure what I meant.” But not defeated. She had hope yet.

“Sure, sure,” Opal said, reassuring her. “The cellar.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You were in the cellar. And I apologize in advance for making you do this once more. But you saw your lady there in the storm room. You touched her, you asked her to wake, and…”

“And? I’ve already told you. I—”

“And something crossed your mind.”

Farrah shook her head. The gesture of a woman who’d discovered she was going to do something she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“I thought Mister Evers might have done something to her.”

Opal nodded, his eyes on hers. “I imagine their cellar is as cold as any.”

“Colder, sir.”

Farrah looked to the dirt at their feet.

“Well, look now,” Opal said, planting both his big hands on his hips. Farrah noticed how close his hands were to his guns. As if, because of what she’d told him, danger was coming. “You and I have had ourselves a real hog of a conversation here. Don’t think I missed it that it’s been suggested Mister Evers might have done something terrible, suggested by someone who spends more time with him than I do. But truth is, we don’t know that he has, and chances are very high he hasn’t. In all my years in law I’ve only encountered a couple of men who did something as wrong as killing their own wife. Thing is, too many edges aren’t squaring off.

“And maybe I shouldn’t be saying as much to a young lady like yourself, but as it goes I got a feeling, and my feeling about you is that you could help me. Maybe you already have, maybe you’re about to. But let’s not part ways today with worry on our minds. Most likely we should be grieving the loss of a wonderful lady. Sometimes, in such matters, someone does something a bit out of the ordinary and everyone gets uneasy, pointing fingers and saying this or that can’t be right because this or that was done wrong. Mister Evers is most likely dealing with the loss of his wife. Can we blame him if he acts any different than he normally would? I’d say not. And I say it’s a much more suspicious thing if he did. But you and me…we ought to keep our heads and let me look further into things and hopefully I come knocking on your door and tell you that it was just plain old justified sadness that got the better of us today and made us think such wretched thoughts.”

Farrah thought, We’ve gotta do something. Then she thought of the telegram she sent to James Moxie. The news of Carol’s death. She wiped her face with her arm.

“All right, Sheriff.”

“Let me ask you something before I let you go. You ever meet an Alexander Wolfe? Friend of Mister Evers?”

Farrah tried to remember.

“There’ve been many people to the house since I started there.”

“For parties and such?”

“Yes, gatherings.”

“Uh-huh. But no Alexander Wolfe? Alex, maybe? From west of Harrows? From Charles?”

Farrah shook her head like she’d disappointed the sheriff.

“That’s all right,” he said. “How about Mister Evers’s family…you ever meet anybody in the same line of work as Mister Manders over there?”