Love and Murder in Savannah

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Love and Murder in Savannah Page 4

by Harper Lin


  “Neither? What does that mean?” Becky looked over her shoulder then straight ahead. She was just a couple of short minutes to the edge of the property. The sudden urge to be on her family’s soil was overpowering. But once she was in the tobacco field, instead of feeling calmer, she sprinted to the back porch.

  When she finally reached it, her hair sticking to her forehead and her shoes covered in dust, she looked behind her and saw nothing.

  Chapter Five

  True to her word, Martha sent out invitations immediately. When Kitty entered the drawing room, she found her daughter casually sketching some of the new blooms that peeked from the flower box outside the window.

  “Mail call,” she said as she handed her daughter two envelopes. “Miss Martha is having a party for her birthday, I assume.”

  “She said she was going to send invitations immediately, and I’ll swear she snuck out of her house in the middle of the night, barefoot and in her nightgown, to get these in the mailbox.” Becky chuckled. When her mother didn’t reply with a laugh or a gasp, Becky looked at her. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t want any dramatic reactions to the other letter,” Kitty replied, holding her chin high and her lips pursed. When Becky looked at the return address, she couldn’t control her reaction.

  “Fanny Doshoffer.” She grimaced. “Oh, Mother, I can’t.” She held the envelope between her thumb and forefinger and tried to make Kitty take it back.

  “What did I just say?” Kitty patted her finger waves. “Perhaps you’ll be surprised by what she’s got to say in that letter.”

  “Only if she’s saying she’s permanently moving to Africa to hunt lions. I’ll be cheering for the lions.” Becky muttered that last part under her breath.

  “She’s your cousin, Becky Madeline. And we will offer her every hospitality when she comes to stay with us.” Kitty stared at her daughter.

  “Comes to stay with us? Oh, Mama! She doesn’t even like me. I’m female. If it doesn’t wear trousers and have two cherries and a stem, Fanny isn’t interested.”

  Kitty clutched her pearls and gasped.

  “Why in the world would she want to come and stay with us?” Becky opened Martha’s letter first and read in her beautiful script the date and time of the birthday party.

  Immediately, Becky began to imagine what kind of unique gift she’d get for her friend this year. She was turning twenty-one. Last year Becky found two halves of a robin’s egg that she nestled into a small gift box padded with wild cotton. The year before that she found an exquisite piece of fool’s gold that sparkled and shone almost like the real thing. She wrapped it in a cotton kerchief with the initial B stitched in the corner and fastened it with a blue velvet ribbon. Becky said to Martha that if she were to ever accept a proposal of marriage, she’d have her bring something blue.

  “Becky? Are you listening to me?” Kitty insisted.

  “Yes. No. What did you just say?” Becky stuttered.

  “I said everyone in town will know she’s coming. It will do you good to have some exposure to someone other than Teddy and Martha,” Kitty repeated.

  “What’s wrong with Teddy and Martha?” Becky asked.

  “There’s nothing wrong with them, darlin’, but the world is a big place, and a man wants to meet a girl with lots of interests and experiences. Not someone who repeats the same old dull stories.”

  “My stories about Martha and Teddy are anything but dull. Would you like to hear a couple? I’ve been saving them up for a special occasion.”

  “Becky, that sass is going to get you in deep one day,” her mother scolded. “You are going to entertain your cousin Fanny and take her with you to Martha’s party. She is anything but a stranger to the Boudreauxs. In fact, you’d be wise to take a couple lessons from your cousin on the art of conversation.”

  “Conversation. Is that what they call throwing yourself at every man in the room? Okay. If you insist.” Becky shimmied her shoulders.

  “Your cousin Fanny is a respectable, refined young lady. People enjoy her company. I’ll expect my one and only child to do whatever is in her power to make sure she has a memorable time with us.”

  Becky looked at her mother with more words dancing on the tip of her tongue just behind her teeth, which wanted to jump right out of her mouth.

  What would her mother think of the conversation Becky had had with the woman in the cemetery, who had died of yellow fever only after she’d buried her husband and seven children? Or the young man who was hit by a train but stood next to his mama as she cried and cried watching his casket being lowered into the ground, unable to comfort her and tell her that he was not only whole again but happy and warm and safe? And there was her favorite, Mr. Wilcox, who told stories of his eleven grandchildren, his wife of thirty years, and all the jobs he had, starting when he was five, selling boutonnieres in front of the bank to the men working in the offices inside and ending when he was a wheelwright.

  “All I’m saying is that you could learn a thing or two from Fanny,” Kitty said before leaving the room.

  “I could learn how to be an obnoxious pain in the—”

  “I heard that!” Kitty shouted, making Becky wince.

  She couldn’t bear to read Fanny’s letter in the house. Tucking her sketchbook under her arm, she marched through the house and headed out the back door, letting the screen slam shut behind her.

  The heat of the day seemed to come down from the sun as well as up from the ground. It didn’t help cool her temper either. By the time she made it to the cemetery, sweat pulled strands of her fiery red hair to her temples and across the back of her neck.

  She found a quiet place underneath a massive oak tree. Beneath its canopy she immediately felt cooler. Without worry of being dainty or ladylike, she squatted down at the base of the trunk, ripped open Fanny’s letter, and began to read.

  Dear Cousin Rebecca,

  I do hope my correspondence finds you well. I am superb. Never in all my life would I ever have thought there would be a countryside more beautiful than Savannah, Georgia. But Granny Louise and I just returned from Europe. I do believe I’ve fallen in love with Paris. You would not believe the sights there. So many works of art and delicacies to eat, and I am so embarrassed that I had to turn down three marriage proposals on account that I could barely speak the language. The men are a good bit more forward than our Southern bucks. A girl has to keep her head. Your mother mentioned the Heathcliff boy had come calling on you. That’s so cute. See, there is hope.

  I will be staying at your family’s quaint plantation in the upcoming weeks. Just in time for Martha Bourdeaux’s birthday party. It isn’t the kind of soiree I’m used to, but I’m sure it will be adorable. I’ve brought with me just the perfect gift I know Martha will love. She’s never seen anything like it.

  Looking forward to seeing you, cousin, and hearing all about your little hobbies.

  Yours very truly,

  Cousin Fanny

  “Cousin Rebecca.” Becky bit her lower lip until it stung. If she were to show the letter to her mother and point out all the veiled insults, Kitty would insist that Becky was being petty and maybe even jealous.

  “I’m not jealous,” Becky muttered. “Am I?”

  She pulled out her sketchbook and began to doodle her thoughts as she searched her own heart for threads of jealousy where Fanny was concerned. After completing a rather off-color cartoon of her cousin getting a boot in the behind, she came to the conclusion that no, she was not jealous. Sure, Fanny was a lovely woman. She had strawberry-blond hair that hung in natural ringlets around her face. Her complexion was perfectly smooth without a single blemish or freckle. Every man with a pulse noticed her when she walked into a room. Granny Louise had placed all her money on that filly to win the derby, so Fanny had the finest clothes and read many books. How she could read so much and have nothing interesting to say was beyond Becky.

  Just as Becky was about to leave the cemetery, she saw a famili
ar little figure approaching the entrance. It was Teeter. He knew too many of Becky’s hiding places and was often sent by Kitty to find Becky and bring her back home.

  “Hey, Teeter! What are you doing out here?” She waved, catching the little boy’s attention.

  “I’m just exploring!” he shouted back.

  “Well, come on over here and sit a spell with me. Tell me what’s new.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am!” Teeter shook his head. “I don’t want no ghosts following me home! Mama says chi’ren who play in the boneyard get haunted.”

  Becky chuckled but didn’t dare let him see her do so. The concerns of little children were no less serious than those of adults. At least, not in the children’s eyes. So Becky stood, dusted off her dress, and with her sketchbook and letters tucked under her arm, went to join the little boy.

  “Want to go walk through the creek?” Becky suggested.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s powerful hot out here,” Teeter said, taking Becky’s hand as if she were nothing more than his lighter-skinned big sister.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “What were you reading, Miss Becky?”

  “Oh, a letter from Cousin Fanny. She’ll be coming to stay with us in just a few days,” Becky replied as if she’d just smelled something foul.

  “Don’t you like her?” Teeter asked.

  “Not really. But the Lord gives us difficult people to help us reach Heaven.”

  Teeter screwed up his face as he looked up at Becky while still holding her hand. “Why don’t the Lord give us easy people? Then we’d all get into Heaven.”

  Becky chuckled. “That’s just not how it works. I’ll race you to the creek.”

  “Ready. Set. Go!” Teeter cheated and took off running as Becky pretended to struggle down the hill to the cool, clear water. The water barely got over their knees at this end. Becky held up her skirt, and Teeter nearly drowned himself, splashing around, laughing, and gulping half the creek down his gullet. Still, his wide smile quickly made Becky forget about Fanny and her rude letter. Let her have Paris. Becky was more than happy right where she was.

  Chapter Six

  When Becky finally returned Teeter to his mama, they were both drenched, and their feet were caked with mud.

  “Don’t neither one of you think of coming in my kitchen with your feet like that. My goodness, Miss Becky, from the ankle down, you and I could be kin.” Lucretia pursed her lips, shaking her head, and then chortled.

  “We had some fun, didn’t we, Teeter? It’s too beautiful a day to stay inside the whole time.” Becky poked Teeter in the ribs, making him giggle.

  “I won’t tell your mama you got the hem of your skirt torn.” Lucretia pointed at the ragged fabric dragging behind her, which had been a lovely seashell color that morning but was now dark with water and mud. “If you can manage to skate past her without being seen.”

  Becky snatched the tea towel that hung from Lucretia’s apron, quickly dried her feet, and began to tiptoe into the house. Lucretia chuckled again before turning to her son, who was falling asleep sitting on the porch step, his head lolling to the side against the railing.

  Becky didn’t know why she even tried since before she could reach the stairs her mother was there, her mouth hanging open and her hand to her throat.

  “I can explain,” Becky said, putting her hands out in front of her as if that might help calm her mother.

  “Becky Madeline, what have you done to that dress?”

  “It’s quite all right, Mama. Lucretia already said she could fix it for me.” Becky smiled, folding her hands daintily in front of her and peering up at her mother from beneath her long lashes.

  “Your cousin Fanny cannot get here soon enough. Perhaps she’ll have some kind of positive influence on you. There’s got to be a lady somewhere underneath all that mud,” Kitty said worriedly.

  Becky rolled her eyes and went upstairs to change her clothes. Once in the privacy of her own room, she took off the dirty dress and flopped down in front of her vanity. She took out Martha’s invitation and reread the details. The party was sure to be the social event of the season and hit on all sixes.

  At the bottom of the invitation, Martha had included a tiny note in her elegant script that Becky had missed the first time. With you in mind, I’ve arranged for some very interesting people to attend.

  “Oh, Martha. You wouldn’t.” She immediately thought of Adam White, and her heart began to race. “No. Mrs. Bourdeax would never allow a Yankee in her house. Or would she?”

  The party was two weeks away. Martha had no idea what stress she’d put her friend under. One day, she would go no matter who was on the guest list. The next day, she would not go, coming down with a sudden case of the screaming meemies or a migraine.

  She’d even turned Teddy down on four occasions to go out dancing.

  “Since when did you become such a flat tire? Are you ill?” Teddy whined.

  “No. I’ve got things to tend to. Besides, my cousin Fanny is coming any day now, and I have to make sure that everything is in order,” Becky lied.

  “Come on. Come with me. We’ll cut a rug, and whatever is bothering you will be forgotten,” he said, tilting his straw hat down and giving her an adorable grin while offering her his elbow.

  “I can’t, Teddy. But you’ll be at Martha’s party, correct?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. “Next to you, she’s my favorite Jane.”

  “Then when are you going to call on her right proper like a good Southern gentleman?” Becky asked. She nearly burst out laughing at poor Teddy’s response. The poor man choked on words that refused to come out.

  “Oh, calm yourself, Teddy. I won’t tell,” Becky flicked her finger under his chin. “But she’s turning twenty-one. That’s the perfect age for a set of handcuffs. I saw in the window of one of the jewelry stores in town that they had engagement rings. Have you bought anything for her yet?”

  “Why don’t you mind your potatoes?” Teddy blushed. “Has she ever said anything about me?”

  “I’m sorry, Teddy, but I’ve got things to tend to here at the house. You have fun and throw back a few for me. Next time. I promise.” Becky gave Teddy a peck on the cheek before seeing him out the door.

  She’d seen a vision of Teddy and Martha. They sort of passed by each other these days like people who passed each other on the sidewalk every day and slowly started to recognize one another until finally they were smiling and waving and looking forward to seeing each other for those brief few minutes.

  That was something else Becky could add to her list of odd qualities. She’d never dare call herself a matchmaker, but she could definitely see who worked together and who didn’t. Some people called it premonitions. Others called it a second sight.

  There was no way to say whether this was a gift from her friends in the spirit world or if it was just because she paid attention. But Becky had learned long ago that most people missed the small stuff, whereas she found the most interesting things to be the obscure. It wasn’t what the articles said that was so interesting but what they didn’t say. And when people in town spoke, they often said much more than they realized.

  Of course, this didn’t apply to Becky’s friends at the speakeasies and dance halls. They were there to drink and dance, and if any conversations took place, everyone was usually too out of breath to worry. Plus, there was a big difference between the crowd at the speakeasy and anyone putting on the high hat at Olson’s Drug Store.

  But Becky had sniffed out more than one cheating spouse without doing anything other than listening to them talk. On many occasions she kept her mouth closed only to see her suspicions confirmed as word reached her of a fella’s clothes winding up in the middle of the street, tossed out by an infuriated wife. Sometimes she’d hear of a guy ending up in the hospital under suspicious circumstances when she knew he was on the lam for money to some palooka. And people would say things like, “Oh, he was such a quiet guy. Would alwa
ys help out where he could.” Yeah, so he could try to win back the money he lost on a nag in the sixth at Churchill Downs.

  As she watched Teddy get into his car and disappear down the long drive, she was sorry she didn’t suggest he pick up Martha. But then again, Martha was probably already at the joint, and they’d find each other.

  Only after Teddy had been long gone did Becky wish she’d taken him up on his offer. The idea of a few drinks, some loud music, and a different dance partner for every step became more and more enticing. But then she’d remember Martha’s cryptic words on her invitation, and the wet blanket would settle over her again.

  Finally, the day of Martha’s party came, and the weather had decided to muck up the works. It had been warm and sunny with that heavy Georgia heat for the past three weeks. But now as the sun was setting on the anniversary of the day Martha was born twenty-one years ago, the clouds decided to roll in and alter the blue sky to a dull, achy gray.

  “I should have known,” Becky said as her cousin Fanny arrived with the clouds. It was as if she brought the gloom with her on purpose.

  “Becky! Get downstairs, girl, and receive your guest!” Kitty yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

  Becky stood from her vanity, smoothed out her pale-blue skirt, and adjusted the rhinestone necklace at her throat before heading downstairs.

  Fanny waited in the back seat of the car until the driver hopped out, dashed around the vehicle, and opened her door. The hat she wore added five extra inches to her height: it sported quail feathers and some berry-looking things.

  “Aunt Kitty! Uncle Judge!” She smiled an almost perfect smile except for the gap between her front teeth. Aunt Kitty insisted it was charming.

  “Oh, Fanny, you look as pretty as a picture!” Kitty exclaimed as Fanny clutched her in a tight hug, rocking from side to side. “Why, Becky has been chattering nonstop since she got word you were coming.”

  “Why, who is that handsome beau coming my way? Is that Uncle Judge?”

 

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