Part 17 (1/2)
”And if you can't, you'll let Annie Sue do it while you ride around from job to job and supervise,” I said.
He'd been told all the details of the night he collapsed and he shook his head stubbornly. ”If I hadn't let her stay there working by herself, that b.a.s.t.a.r.d'd never touched her.”
”You can't wrap her in cotton. Anyhow, the kid's pretty good at it. Rufus Dayley sent over another inspector sometime this week and he gave her an 'A-OK' on the rough-in.”
”Did he now?” He tried to look nonchalant and didn't quite succeed.
It was still a wonder to him where he could have gotten a.r.s.enic. He and Nadine had wracked their brains for Mr. O'Connor and neither could think of a single place he'd eaten when others hadn't partaken of the same dishes.
”Abandoned wells?”
”I carry my own water cooler for my workers and an ice chest with drinks.”
”What about pottery juice mugs? I've heard that the acid in fruit juice can leach a.r.s.enic out of ceramic cups and pitchers.”
”His orange juice comes right out of the Minute Maid carton and right into the same plain gla.s.ses we've had for ten years,” said Nadine.
As for Carver Bannerman, Herman knew he was a county inspector and remembered now that he'd seen him several times at the Coffee Pot. They had never exchanged more than a few words in pa.s.sing, though, and certainly they'd never shared a meal anywhere else that he knew of.
”Dwight and Terry,” Herman said. ”When they were here the other night, they think I was the one killed Bannerman?”
”You, Annie Sue or me, one. But only because of the circ.u.mstances.”
He nodded. ”I reckon any of us would've.”
”Would've what?” chirped Annie Sue from the doorway.
Inevitably she was trailed by Cindy and Paige, and I was touched by the sadness in Paige's brown eyes as my niece scampered over to Herman for a big bear hug.
”Think how much you'd miss your daddy,” whispered the preacher.
”Perry Byrd was an intolerant bigot and racist,” the pragmatist sniffed. ”He must have been h.e.l.l on hinges to live with.”
”He was her father, and now he's gone forever.”
”Humph! Ralph McGee's gone forever, too, but you don't see Cindy mooning over Herman and Annie Sue.”
Indeed, her face was brightly animated as she chattered with Nadine.
The girls were quickly followed by more friends and relatives who still believed in visiting the sick and comforting the afflicted. By eight-thirty, the room was so full that we spilled out into the hall, a dozen different conversations going at once.
n.o.body would miss me if I left, I reasoned, and maybe it was still early enough to zip over to K.C.'s cottage. Watch the moon rise above Jordan Lake. See how the steaks were holding up.
Not to mention the men.
The night air was deliciously cool as I headed toward the parking lot, but I'd only gotten as far as the ramp when I heard running footsteps behind me.
”Miss Deborah! Judge Knott?”
Paige Byrd.
”Are you going home now? Could I ride with you? Please?”
I hesitated, and she drooped like a bright-headed zinnia deprived of water. ”Oh. You're going somewhere else, aren't you? I'm sorry.”
”No, no,” I lied. ”Come along. It'll be nice to have company.”
”K.C.'s party,” whined the pragmatist. ”Why are you feeling guilty about this child? This is so irrational. Let her ride home with Cindy and Annie Sue.”
”You have an obligation,” said the preacher. ”You don't have to take her to raise, only to remember that you're sitting in her father's seat and that gives her a claim on you.”
The pragmatist sat sulking in the corner of my brain, but I made myself smile at the girl as I unlocked my car door. ”Did you tell Annie Sue you were leaving?”
She nodded. ”Suddenly, it was just so smothery in there. I thought I was going to faint if I didn't get out.”
We talked of claustrophobia and scary experiences with elevators and tunnels, yet even after we had cleared the lights of Chapel Hill and were out on I-40 East zooming toward Dobbs, I kept feeling waves of tension from her. Nothing I said seemed to put her at ease.
Inevitably our talk drifted toward Carver Bannerman, his opportunistic treatment of Cindy and his attack on Annie Sue, and how Annie Sue was more worried about Mr. Herman and what was going to happen to him than what had nearly happened to her.
”At first she was scared maybe he was the one who'd hit Carver with the hammer,” Paige said.
”I know. But he didn't. Major Bryant's narrowed down the time to when he ran off the road and collapsed, so that proves he couldn't have.”
”If he had, what would've happened to Mr. Herman?”
”He'd probably have been charged with voluntary manslaughter.”
”And gone to jail?”
”Not necessarily.”
She picked up on the curiosity in my voice. ”Are these stupid questions? Dad never talked about his work much and the only time I was in his courtroom was when our whole history cla.s.s went.”
”Well, manslaughter's usually defined as the unlawful killing of a human being without malice,” I explained. ”There's voluntary, involuntary and vehicular. Vehicular's when a death is caused by driving recklessly. You didn't mean to kill someone, but you weren't being careful. Involuntary manslaughter is usually from criminal negligence. You might argue that death occurred because of a tragic accident; the prosecution will argue that you should have realized that the situation could result in someone's death.”
”And voluntary?”
”That's when you meant to kill him, but-”
”If you meant to,” she interrupted, ”why isn't it murder?”
”For it to be murder, you'd have to think about killing somebody ahead of time and you'd probably try to do it so n.o.body would know you were the killer. In other words, intent to kill and premeditation. Those are the two elements of murder in the first degree. But voluntary manslaughter is when you did it in the heat of pa.s.sion, without malice aforethought-no intent, no premeditation-and usually with plenty of provocation.”
”Like Carver trying to rape Annie Sue.”