* * *
Jake tried to raise his head, but it was in a vice – or at least that is the way it felt. Without moving anything else, he slowly opened his eyes and waited while his vision partially cleared. He must have really tied one on last night. Little by little he started recognizing things through the gray dull haze of the morning after. There was some kind of shrill, head-throbbing noise that seemed to be coming from outside and was interfering with his ability to breathe normally. He was at Old Town Farm, in the bedroom, still fully dressed. Then he remembered. He sat up suddenly and almost screamed from the pain that cracked open his skull. He had gotten home late and Leona was waiting up for him drinking his Wild Turkey out of an iced tea glass. Not a whisky glass for sipping, but a goddam iced tea glass for Christ’s sake. Then she started questioning him. Apparently she had found out about Margo. Jake had tried to tell her there wasn’t anything to it, but she kept pouring more Wild Turkey into that goddam glass and drinking it just to spite him.
Jake managed to sit up on the side of the bed and hold his head in his hands. “Oh, my god,” he whispered. To say it any louder would have caused his head to fall off. Margo hadn’t been at Old Town when he got there later. Classes had finished up at the college, and she didn’t even wait around long enough to say goodbye. Not that he blamed her. She had gotten what she wanted out of the deal – a free place to stay.
By holding onto a chair, he managed to stand up. This could be a problem if he didn’t get it straightened away with Leona in a hurry. He tried to remember exactly what had happened, but that awful shrill noise was preventing him from thinking clearly, and it seemed to be coming into the house. He staggered toward the bedroom door and tried to pull it open. When he did, the source of the shrill noise walked in: six women from the Historical Society all talking at once.
“Well, hello, Mr. Kruger. We didn’t know anyone was here.”
He recognized the woman who was screeching at him as the president of the Historical Society. She was the same one he had dealt with in the past. For an instant he thought the old biddy was snooping. Maybe she knew about Margo and had come to find out for herself so she could blab to the Caldwells and everyone else in town what she knew. He made a supreme effort not to put his hands over his ears.
“Evelyn Caldwell told us we could go ahead and start making our plans for declaring Old Town Farm a historical landmark. We’ve come to make our preliminary investigation.” By now the other women were standing next to the screeching woman and surveying Jake as well as the contents of the room.
“Well, ladies, feel free.” Jake struggled to smile, but his face felt like cardboard and his lips were somewhere down around his left kneecap. “You’ll excuse me?”
The women parted as though afraid they would get dirty if he brushed against them. Somehow he managed to make it through the front door and outside to his truck. It was then that he remembered the box of condoms Margo always insisted he use that were still on the bedside table. It didn’t matter. He needed to find Leona before she did anything stupid like talk to the Caldwells. She would listen to him. He would tell her that he needed her and loved her and that he would do anything to make up for his stupid actions. He would tell her it would never happen again. She would listen.
He drove with the windows rolled down hoping the fresh air would clear his head. When he got to the house, her car was gone. He let himself in and called her name anyway. Then he checked their bedroom. At first he couldn’t tell if anything was missing – all her clothes seemed to be there. Then he checked the drawer where she kept her box of good jewelry. It was gone along with her purse. So was her damned toothbrush, he noticed, when he checked the bathroom.
He showered and shaved and changed clothes. Then he called the office telling his secretary that he had a family emergency and wouldn’t be available. Next to the phone was Leona’s address book. A blue, leather-bound notebook with flowers hand painted on the cover. Expensive Italian leather. Something she had bought on a trip abroad with her late husband. He grabbed it and started flipping through the pages trying to figure out where she would have gone. She knew everyone; Christ, her family had been the first settlers, framers, and fuckin’ founding fathers of Rocky Mount.
He needed a plan. Not only that, he was shaking so much he couldn’t hold the stupid address book much less read it. Taking it into the kitchen he got a Coke out of the refrigerator and a box of crackers down from one of the cabinets. Sipping on the Coke and eating crackers, he began picking out the names of the people he recognized.
Jake spent the next several hours driving around Rocky Mount looking for Leona. When he got back to the house, he started calling the people he didn’t know but who were listed in her address book. No one had seen her. Exhausted and still feeling the effects of all he had had to drink the night before, he went to bed. He would try again later after a couple of hours’ sleep.
* * *
There were no preliminary matters to be discussed before the court. Within minutes after the judge took his seat, the prosecution began its case by calling Cathy to the witness stand. She basically repeated what had been put in the police report. That she, Darnell, and Beth had worked on stage scenery for the high school play all day and into the evening. Beth left around eight o’clock. Cathy and Darnell stayed a little longer and then went home.
Tom Dillard had no questions for Cathy.
The prosecution called Darnell to the witness stand. She gave the same account as Cathy had given. And like Cathy, she had a witness who would corroborate the time she arrived home.
Tom Dillard had no questions for Darnell, but he reserved the right to recall her to the stand at a later time.
The next three witnesses to take the stand talked about the character of the victim, Burt Sheridan. A good family man, attended church regularly, always willing to help a neighbor or friend, a typical hard-working white male in a blue-collar job. His supervisor at Schlage said Mr. Sheridan had always been on time and was dependable.
The prosecution called a police officer who had been one of the first to arrive on the scene. He described Beth holding the murder weapon, and then discovering the body. The prosecutor displayed the knife that had been used.
The prosecution rested.
“Show time,” Tom muttered to Beth.
For the next two and one-half hours Tom called witnesses who could vouch for Beth’s character. Teachers, her minister, her dance instructor. A couple of her classmates from school even testified, but they were so nervous Lara was afraid they didn’t help that much. And then he called Beth to the stand. Gently he coaxed her story from her, careful not to leave anything out. The courtroom was completely silent as Beth described her confusion when Darnell shoved something into her hand, and her horror when she realized it was a knife. At that point, Beth started to cry. She had been testifying for almost an hour, and it was close to the noon hour. The judge called a one-hour recess. He instructed the jurors not to discuss the trial with anyone. Nor were they to decide on the case until all of the evidence had been presented.
Lara joined Beth and her parents in a small anteroom on the second floor of the courthouse where they could avoid the press. Tom had ordered sandwiches brought in and some cold drinks. No one ate much.
“I know those girls are lying, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” Tom slammed his fist down on the table.
“Maybe the jurors won’t believe them,” said Carole.
“It doesn’t matter. They have to decide on the evidence as it is presented to them, not what they think. I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good.”
Carole put her hand on Beth’s.
“If the decision does come down against us, of course, we can appeal. And we will appeal,” he said emphatically. “This is only the first step.” He smiled over at Beth. “OK?”
“OK,” Beth said softly.
There was a knock on the door. The jurors had returned. It was time to go back in.
&nb
sp; “The defense recalls Darnell Tilden.”
Lara tensed. She knew this was Beth’s last chance. Whatever happened now would determine if Beth went to prison or not. Even though Tom tried to reassure everyone with his talk of appeals, Beth would have to be incarcerated during that entire process. It could take months or even years. The idea was unthinkable. The horrors of prison for a hardened criminal were difficult to imagine. But for someone with Beth’s innocence, it was incomprehensible.
Darnell once again assumed her air of hostility and defiance. Tom asked about Atlanta, where she went to school there, her friends and family. He asked about her home in Rocky Mount, did she have any brothers or sisters, did she like living with her grandmother, how did she like it compared to Atlanta, and did she have as many friends? What about school? How were her grades? As soon as she answered one question, he asked another. Trying to keep her talking, trying to open her up.
Then he started talking about the night of the murder.
“The scenery. You enjoyed working on the scenery, Miss Tilden?”
“Yeah.”
“You did a good job, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And it was fun to do something good like that with your friends, Cathy and Beth, wasn’t it, Miss Tilden?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“It was fun to take time out from being a mother – to be like the other girls in your class, isn’t that so, Miss Tilden?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She turned her eyes from Tom and glared at Lara.
“Well, Miss Tilden, isn’t it true that you have a young child?”
“No…Yeah, but that don’t . . .”
“Taking care of a child and trying to go to school, it’s hard doing it all by yourself, isn’t it, Miss Tilden?”
“I guess so.”
“Mr. Sheridan was a friend, wasn’t he, Miss Tilden. Just like Cathy and Beth?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do. You met Mr. Sheridan when your sister worked at Schlage Lock Company the summer before you moved to Atlanta. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“And he was a friend. And he had three little kids himself. So he knew how hard it was trying to raise a family, isn’t that so, Miss Tilden?”
Lara slid up to the edge of her seat, focusing all of her attention on Darnell.
Tom had gotten out of his chair and was standing in front of Darnell.
“What I mean, Miss Tilden, is that Mr. Sheridan was a friend. He knew how difficult it was to raise a family. So he should have been willing to give you some money when you needed it. Isn’t that so, Miss Tilden?”
“I don’t . . .”
“And isn’t it true that you got angry when he refused to give you the money? Even when you explained, he still refused to give you any money. So you got angry. Isn’t that true, Miss Tilden?”
Darnell sat scrunched down in the chair glaring at Tom as he paced back and forth in front of her. “No, it ain’t true. That ain’t the way it was at all!”
Lara stood up, her hands gripping the back of the wooden bench in front of her. “Darnell, please, just tell the truth.”
The courtroom erupted in confusion and noise as everyone started talking at once. Tom looked around at Lara in surprise. The judge banged his gavel and ordered Lara to sit down, and then he threatened to have the courtroom cleared. Carole pulled Lara back down beside her. After several minutes of confusion, the judge called for a fifteen-minute recess.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Tom said.
“What do you mean?” asked Bob.
“I don’t think that kid is Darnell’s. Lara, what did you say the little girl’s name was?”
“Prissy. She said her name was Prissy.”
“I’ll be right back. I need to make a phone call.”
Lara stayed with Carole and Bob. “What did he mean?” asked Carole. Lara shook her head. She didn’t know. She thought back to her visit with Darnell. Prissy had been playing with her necklace as Lara held her, and said “Mamma” before quoting from the Bible. She hadn’t imagined it. But now, as she tried to remember, it seemed that Prissy had looked at her when she said “Mamma” – before she looked at Darnell. But since there was no one else in the room, she must have meant Darnell.
A few minutes later, Tom returned. “I just talked to Social Services. That little girl you saw the other day, Lara, isn’t Darnell’s. It was her sister’s child. And her sister recently died from AIDS while serving time at Braden.” Tom ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I didn’t check this out before.”
“That still doesn’t explain why Darnell would have gone to that man for money,” said Bob.
“No, not unless it had to do with Prissy, the little girl. Who knows, maybe this is the information I need to get Darnell to open up now. Nothing else has worked.”
The courtroom was called back to order. Tom resumed his questions.
“It just wasn’t right, was it, Miss Tilden?” continued Tom. “He should have understood. After all, he had been a friend. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to help you out, was it? Or maybe Tanya, your sister? After all, there was Prissy to consider now, isn’t that so?”
Darnell had been staring down at her hands and now she suddenly sat up.
“And so you got angry and stabbed him. Isn’t that right, Miss Tilden? Maybe you didn’t mean to kill him. Maybe it was an accident. Or maybe you only wanted to scare him. But the fact is, you got his knife, you stabbed him, and you killed him. Isn’t that right, Miss Tilden?”
Tom stopped pacing and stood in front of Darnell. He waited, not moving, for the dark-eyed girl to speak. The sudden silence filled every corner and every crack in that room. It were as though, for that one moment, all time had stopped.
“It wasn’t right, what he did,” she said quietly. “I just wanted him to help out some with Prissy.”
Again the courtroom erupted in noise. Carole burst out crying and Bob threw his arms around her, crushing her to him as he did. Beth turned around to look at her parents not completely understanding what was happening, and Lara smiled at her through her tears. Then she looked up at the young black girl on the witness stand. Darnell was staring at Lara expectantly. The fight for survival Lara had seen in Darnell’s face the day she went to her house was still there, but there was something else. Lara had made a commitment to Darnell, and Darnell was asking if she was going to keep it.
Lara nodded.
Her question answered, Darnell slumped back in her chair. The fight was no longer there.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVERYONE IN THE Braden prison had heard the story and couldn’t stop talking about it. Poor little Prissy. What would happen to her now? The grandmother had to be at least ninety. She was ancient! How could she take care of a child, especially a child like Prissy. She couldn’t!
Miriam, like everyone else, had been shocked when she first learned of the story on Monday after she attended the party at the Parkers – the same day she found out Tanya had died. She knew how much they must be suffering -- their only child accused of murdering that man. She considered sending them a note, but what could she possibly say: I had a great time at your party and, by the way, sorry to hear about your daughter getting arrested? She ended up sending a note anyway, thanking them for making her feel so welcome in their home and telling them how sorry she was for the difficulties they were going through. Then she offered to help in any way she could.
No one had known about the connection to Darnell until it came out during the trial. It was Darnell who had actually killed the night watchman, and not Beth. When Miriam got to her office the morning after the trial and learned what happened, she immediately got on the phone to Social Services. She wanted Prissy back, and she would do whatever was necessary to get her back. Her girls needed Prissy, she needed Prissy, and in all fairness, Prissy probably needed them as well. After all, it wa
s the only home she had ever known until her mother died. Taking care of any five-year-old child was difficult and certainly not something an elderly woman could handle. And considering it was Prissy, it was impossible.
Miriam made a good argument. But there were procedures to follow. Until Darnell’s trial was over and it was determined whether she was guilty or not, Miriam would simply have to wait. Prissy would remain with the grandmother.
At least there was a glimmer of hope, and Miriam started to spread that glimmer of hope to the inmates. She also wanted to get hold of Lara Kruger to see if she could meet for lunch. There was no need to hold off now. She was going to get the funding for her work program – it was just a matter of time. Meanwhile, she could go ahead and discuss the idea with Lara and see what she thought about it.
Miriam cranked out a dozen monthly reports before the end of the day and piled them on Alice’s desk. She hadn’t felt this energized in a long time. She had been too lax lately. Dragging around feeling sorry for herself. It’s a wonder Claudia hadn’t moved out. Now it was time to get her big, pear-shaped behind in gear.
* * *
Tyree, Randall, Beth, and Lara sat around the table in Lara’s kitchen. It was the morning after the trial, and Beth and Lara were filling Tyree and Randall in on what had taken place. The case against Beth had been dismissed. There would be a new trial, scheduled for later in June, slightly less than a month away, unless Darnell’s attorney could get the prosecution to agree to some sort of plea bargain. The judge had refused to release Darnell on bail, and she was being held in the detention center. Darnell’s grandmother was taking care of little Prissy.
“The strange thing about it is that Darnell won’t tell what happened or why she did it.” Beth looked like a different person from the tired, worried young woman she had appeared to be the day before. She was rested and once again an enthusiastic teenager. “I mean, it seems a little drastic to kill a man just because he wouldn’t give her any money. And I don’t know why she asked him anyway.”
Gospel According to Prissy Page 15