“Not very fruitful,” I said. “We don’t know whether any of those fellows actually encountered Uncle John Ward over in Vietnam, and if they survived, where they are now. I think we need to see who we can track down.”
“We could try to get more newspapers,” Richard said, not very enthusiastically.
“I have a better idea. Two better ideas, in fact. First, one of us can consult the Burnette rumor mill in the form of Aunt Nora. She knows where most of the bodies are buried in Byerly.”
“By one of us, I presume you mean yourself.”
“That might be the better choice, considering my second idea.”
“Which is?”
“To go visit Byerly’s V.F.W. post. I think the veterans would be a lot more likely to talk to a man than to me.”
“Good point.”
I checked my watch. It was nearly five. “Why don’t I call Aunt Nora and see if she’s free this evening? If she’s available, you can drop me over there and then go on to the V.F.W.” I reached for the phone, but Richard put his hand over mine.
“Just out of curiosity, is the timing of this phone call in any way related to the time of day?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I said as innocently as I could manage, but I don’t think he was fooled. He knew what time Aunt Nora fixed dinner as well as I did, and I noticed that he didn’t argue with the idea.
Aunt Nora said she’d be glad to have some company that evening, and when I happened to mention that Richard and I had no plans for dinner, she assured me that they had plenty of chicken and dumplings. In fact, she implied that most of the food would have to be thrown out if we didn’t rush right over there and help out. Of course I had seen Uncle Buddy, Thaddeous, and Willis eat, so I knew that they’d do just fine on their own, but I had also eaten Aunt Nora’s chicken and dumplings. I told her we’d be glad to help, hung up, and we headed for the car.
Chapter 13
Dinner was wonderful, of course. If they gave out the Nobel Prize for light and fluffy dumplings, Aunt Nora would be a shoo–in. After we stuffed ourselves silly, Uncle Buddy went outside to rake leaves, Thaddeous went to call Joleen, Willis left for the night shift at the mill, and Aunt Nora cleaned up the kitchen. I took the opportunity to see Richard off.
“Where do Byerly soldiers go to fade away?” Richard asked as he got into the car.
“Downtown, across the street from the police department. There’s a big flag pole in front, so you can’t miss it.” I thought for a moment. “Richard, I know you have somewhat mixed feelings about our role in Vietnam.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Maybe veterans don’t.”
“I take it that you’re suggesting that I not come on like a Massachusetts liberal, filled with indignation at the way American imperialism led to the loss of uncounted lives.”
“Something like that,” I admitted. “You’ll be discreet, won’t you?”
“I will be the soul of discretion, the best of good ole’ boys. I won’t even think about mentioning Jane Fonda.”
I wasn’t completely reassured. “You do realize that the average good ole’ boy doesn’t quote Shakespeare with any regularity.”
Richard raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. At least, I think it was mock. He said, “Actually many household words have their origin in the Bard’s work, including ‘household words,’ which first appeared in Henry V, Act IV, Scene 2. The supposedly folksy expression ‘dead a a doornail’ comes from Henry VI, Part 2, Act IV, Scene 10. And—”
“However,” I said, “when most people use these expressions, they don’t follow up with the play, act, and scene from which the expression came.”
“You have a point. I’ll restrain myself.”
He drove away, and I headed back inside and met Thaddeous in the hall.
“How’s Joleen?” I asked.
“She wasn’t home. I guess she’s gone out with the girls.” He joined Uncle Buddy outside.
Poor Thaddeous, I thought again as I went into the kitchen.
Aunt Nora was a fast worker. She already had the kitchen back in shape, and was stirring something in a bowl.
“What are you making?” I asked, and scooped up a taste with my finger.
“You’re as bad as the boys,” she said, swatting at my hand with her wooden spoon. “I’m just mixing up a batch of brownies. Buddy and Thaddeous like to have one with a glass of milk sometimes at night. If you want one, you’re going to have to wait until they’re baked.”
“After all those dumplings?” I objected, but we both knew that I’d talk myself into it when the brownies were ready.
“Where’s Richard off to?”
“He had to go run an errand.”
Aunt Nora gave me a look, so I amended, “To tell you the truth, he’s off tracking down some information for Aunt Daphine’s problems.”
“That’s what I thought. And what about you? Did you just come to visit, or is there something I can help you with?”
“A little of both. I want to pick your brain about some Byerly gossip.”
“Is that so? Well, let me get these into the oven and we’ll sit down and talk for a spell.” She poured the batter into the waiting pan, pushed it into the oven, and switched on the timer. Then we settled down around the kitchen table.
I felt a little funny about quizzing her without an explanation, so I started with, “Aunt Daphine told me what’s going on, but she made me promise not to tell anybody else. I’m sorry—”
“I know all about your promise,” Aunt Nora said. “Linwood told Edna, and Edna told me, so don’t you worry about hurting my feelings. You just do what you can for Daphine.” Then she prompted me, “Now, what do you need to know?”
I was keeping in mind the categories Richard had laid out the night before. “First off, do you know anyone who’s come into money unexpectedly or without an explanation?”
Aunt Nora thought about it for a minute, then said hesitantly, “Well, there is Linwood.”
“No, somebody other than him,” I said firmly, glad that I could be sure.
She thought for a little while longer. “I can’t think of anybody else. The only one I know of to come into money all of a sudden is Faye Higgenbotham, and that’s because her aunt died.”
“Are you sure?” I said. It would be easy enough to invent a rich aunt.
“I’m pretty sure,” Aunt Nora said. “I was at the funeral, and Faye’s aunt had been saying for years that she wanted her insurance money to go to Faye.”
“Okay,” I said. That sounded pretty reasonable to me. “Next, do you know of anybody who doesn’t like Aunt Daphine? I don’t mean somebody with a little grudge; I mean somebody who really has it in for her.”
“Daphine? Why would anybody not like Daphine?”
I shrugged. Maybe the blackmailer was just interested in money, but I didn’t believe it. Those letters were too nasty. “What about in business? I know she doesn’t have any competition in Byerly, but has she ever fired anybody?”
“Not for years. There was one girl she let go because she was stealing from the cash register, but then Daphine found out that she needed money for a sick child. So she lent her the money and gave her another chance. She still works there, as a matter of fact.”
“Any feuds with neighbors?”
Aunt Nora shook her head.
“Old rivals from high school?” I said, knowing that I was grasping at straws.
Aunt Nora frowned. “Laurie Anne, if you want a blow–by–blow of the fight Daphine had with Junior Norton’s mother when they both ran for president of the sophomore class, or the time she and Clara McDonald showed up at a school dance wearing the exact same dress, I’ll be glad to tell you about it, but otherwise you’re out of luck. Daphine isn’t the kind of woman to make enemies.”
“That’s what I thought. One last question, and this goes back a ways, though not as far as Aunt Daphine’s sophomore year in high school. I want to find out about som
e of the fellows from Byerly who went to Vietnam.”
“All right. You know about John Ward already.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Small Bill Walters was in the same platoon or company or whatever it was.”
“Was he?” I hadn’t known that. It was the first definite tie between Uncle John Ward’s time in Vietnam and Byerly, and was especially interesting considering Uncle John Ward and Small Bill had been best friends. Of course, Aunt Nora’s next words reminded me of the problem with that idea.
“Small Bill died a few months after John Ward. What a send–off Big Bill gave that boy. I’ve never known anybody to spend that much money on a funeral. They had to ship in flowers from florists all over the county because Byerly Blooms couldn’t keep up. I hear Big Bill wanted to put in an eternal flame like they did for President Kennedy, but his wife talked him out of it.”
“That would have been a bit much,” I said. “Ed McDonald was in Vietnam, too, wasn’t he?”
Aunt Nora nodded. “He was one of the lucky ones. He lost a couple of fingers, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from making a living. Of course he’s dead now. Heart attack, and I don’t think they even knew he had heart problems. Ed was a pretty good fellow. He and Clara lived near Daphine, and he was always helping her out with yard work and such. Come to think of it, if you really want me to go back …”
“What?”
“Well, Ed used to be sweet on Daphine, but she never was interested in him.”
“How come?”
“First off, as far as Daphine was concerned, there wasn’t any boy in the world other than John Ward Marston. And second, Ed wasn’t all that bright and he didn’t have much of a personality. He faded right into the background, kind of a …” She searched for the right word.
“A wimp?”
She chuckled. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but that’s what he was. Needless to say, Ed was not Daphine’s type. He was perfect for Clara, though, since she never would say boo to a mouse, either. They got married a little while before he went to Vietnam.”
Ed could be a promising suspect, a spurned lover and all. I asked, “When did you say he died?”
“Back in the late spring, early summer. Not long after Paw.”
That took him out of the running. Aunt Daphine received the first blackmail letter a good month after that.
I asked, “What about Alex Stewart? Is he related to May and Ralph Stewart?” I knew Ralph from the mill, and I went to school with his sister May.
“Alex is their uncle. I know you’ve seen him at church. Tall and skinny with dark hair. He’s married to your old Sunday school teacher.”
“That’s right. I always called him Mr. Stewart, so I had forgotten his first name. He used to teach Sunday school, too, didn’t he?”
“Still does.”
That was certainly going to put him at the bottom of my list of suspects. Though I knew that I probably shouldn’t eliminate him just because he was a church–going man, he had always struck me as a sincerely devout Baptist.
“What about Larry Parker?” I asked.
“I’m surprised that you dug up all those names,” Aunt Nora said. “He got injured, but not too badly.”
“I heard that he limps now.”
Aunt Nora nodded. “He got a Purple Heart, too, even though he wasn’t in the fighting proper. He worked for the Army newspaper. He came back and worked at the Byerly Gazette for a year or so, but I guess it was too quiet for him after what he had seen over there. He used his G.I. benefits to go to journalism school in Chapel Hill, and went to work in Chicago.”
“Is he still there?” I asked, because if he was, he would be in the clear. Aunt Daphine’s blackmail letters had a Byerly postmark.
“No, he’s working at the Charlotte Observer now.”
That made it a bit more interesting. Charlotte was less than two hours away by car, so he could easily have driven down to mail the letters.
“Isn’t he Hank Parker’s brother?” I asked.
She nodded. “Larry helped get Hank into journalism school, and wanted him to go work in Chicago with him, but Hank never cared much for living in a big city. He came back to work on the Gazette.”
That gave me three possibilities. If Larry had found out, he could be the blackmailer, or if he had told Hank, it could be him. Or the two of them could be in it together. I mentally filed it away.
“Does Sid Honeywell still run the gas station on Main Street?” I said.
“He does, but I don’t know for how much longer. Did you not hear about this? His son Tom was working there with him, but he took off about a year ago. With a fair amount of the profits, or so I hear. Apparently the boy had been stealing from his Daddy for years. It about broke Sid’s heart, and nearly run him out of business. He pulled through, but he switched over to self–service a few months back so he can run the station by himself.”
“What happened to the son? Did the police catch him?”
“Sid was too embarrassed to press charges. The terrible thing is that Tom is back in town, working up at the mill. I guess he used up all that money and didn’t have anyplace else to go. He wanted to go back to work for Sid, if you can believe it, but Sid told Tom that he’d see him in Hell before he’d let him work for him again. Wrote him out of his will and everything.”
This was promising, too. I didn’t really think that the blackmailer was Sid, a cheerful man who always gave us kids lollipops when our parents got gas. But if Sid had known about Aunt Daphine and Uncle John Ward, and told Tom, Tom could be the one. I didn’t think a man who’d steal from his own father would hesitate to blackmail Aunt Daphine.
“Anybody else?” Aunt Nora asked.
“Reggie Rogers.”
Aunt Nora shook her head sadly. “Poor Reggie never was the same after the war. He didn’t come home with the others because he had to stay in a mental hospital for a long time. I don’t know but what they let him out too soon. When he did come home, he lived next door to Ruby Lee. That was when she was married to Alton. Anyway, Ruby Lee said that he used to wake the whole neighborhood, screaming from nightmares. They must have been terrible, but he never would tell anyone what they were about. He took to drinking. And other things.” Aunt Nora said this last with that expression of righteous indignation she reserves for talking about drugs. “He never could hold a job, never got married, never did much of anything.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was out drinking one night and fell asleep on the road. A truck ran right over him and killed him.” Aunt Nora shook her head again. “Poor Reggie. He was such a nice boy. We went out a few times before the war. It was nothing serious, but he was so much fun and always a perfect gentleman. He wouldn’t even touch a beer, then. Now I don’t begrudge Larry Parker his medal, but I think Reggie deserved a Purple Heart just as much as Larry did.”
The way Aunt Nora talked about Reggie, I was glad I didn’t have to add him to my list of suspects.
The timer on the oven picked that minute to go off, and Aunt Nora went to pull out the pan of brownies.
I was just as glad for the interruption. I was tired of talking about death and pain. Most of the people I know have such knee–jerk reactions to Vietnam as a metaphor, that sometimes we forget about the people who really were there and what happened to them.
Aunt Nora said, “The brownies have to cool for a few minutes, so let’s go see what Buddy and Thaddeous are up to.”
It was wonderful outside, crisp but not cold. I held open the bags so Thaddeous could rake in the last of the leaves, relishing the crunch they made against the ground. Then we went back inside for brownies and milk.
After most of the brownies were gone, Uncle Buddy and Thaddeous retreated into the living room to watch television. Aunt Nora and I stayed in the kitchen to visit some more, but I guess she had had enough talk of Vietnam, too. Instead we started talking about Aunt Ruby Lee and Roger, and their impending return to the altar. We had
worked our way through what we thought the wedding should be like, what Richard’s and my wedding was like, and what a fair number of the Burnette weddings had been like, when the doorbell rang.
“Now who on earth can that be?” Aunt Nora said, starting to fuss with her hair.
“It’s probably Richard,” I said.
“What did he ring the bell for? Why didn’t he just come on in?”
I shrugged. “He just can’t get used to the idea of letting himself in.”
Aunt Nora was shaking her head at the silliness of Richard’s attitude when she went to get him, and was scolding him with, “Now next time, don’t stand out there on the stoop like a stranger,” as she brought him into the kitchen. “Just yell out when you come in the door, and that’s enough for us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said sheepishly.
“You just sit yourself down and I’ll get you a brownie.”
While Aunt Nora fitted her deed to her words, Richard raised his eyebrows at me, which meant, “Did you find anything out?”
I nodded, and then raised my eyebrows back at him. He nodded, too.
When I was younger, I always wondered how my parents knew what the other one was thinking without saying anything, but now that I had been married a few years, I knew how it was done.
Aunt Nora handed Richard his brownie and a glass of milk and said, “Did you get your errand taken care of?”
“All set.”
We didn’t stay too long after that. Aunt Nora and her crew tended to go to bed pretty early, and I wanted to hear what Richard had found out at the V.F.W.
Chapter 14
I managed to wait for Richard to close his car door, but even before turning the key in the ignition, I asked, “What happened?”
“It was quite interesting,” Richard said. “They were much friendlier than you had led me to believe.”
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