Page 63 of The Night the Lights Went Out
“You look nice today,” Wade said as Merilee approached the steps.
She glanced down at the blue silk blouse Lily had said looked pretty on her, trying to pretend she hadn’t deliberately pulled it out of her closet to wear because she knew she’d be seeing Wade. “Thank you,” she said, trying very hard not to notice how nicely his golf shirt fit, or how something zinged in her brain when he smiled at her. She mustreallybe lonely. Time to binge watch Nicholas Sparks movies on Netflix to cure her of her romantic fantasies, assuming it would work in the same way that her children couldn’t bear the sight of candy for at least two weeks following their Halloween gorging.
Sugar answered the door wearing lipstick and a frown. “I can’t visit now. I have an appointment.” Her lips pressed together as the police cruiser pulled up in the drive. “You’ll just have to come back later.”
“Or we could stay,” Wade said as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then gently moved past her so that he was standing next to her when Officer George Mullins reached the porch.
Merilee and Wade introduced themselves, and despite Sugar’s protests that they were just leaving, they all settled themselves in the front room, a plate of cookies and glasses of sweet tea in front of them. Even in her annoyed state, Sugar remembered her manners.
Sugar smiled at the officer. “I believe I knew your grandmama—Betsy Rucker. I was in her wedding when she married your granddaddy, Vern—probably have a photo somewhere I can show you. Nice people. I went to your parents’ wedding, too—just as a guest, though. Beautiful dress and flowers, I do remember that. It was over at the First United Methodist—that first wedding after the big fire.” Leaning forward, she slid the plate of cookies across the table. “I remember you as a baby, too. Fat little thing. I don’t think I’d ever seen so many rolls in a baby’s legs before. You might just have been the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”
The officer grinned as he took a bite from his cookie, and if Merilee had to take a guess, she’d say that Sugar Prescott had never once received more than a warning for any traffic offense.
The officer began asking Sugar the same questions Merilee had asked her the day they’d discovered the trunk, and Sugar responded without appearing to have to think about her answers—no, she didn’t know who the trunk belonged to, and no, she didn’t know how it had ended up in the cellar. Yes, tenants had access to the cellar, but to her knowledge none of them had ever had a reason to use it.
Officer Mullins was thorough and respectful of Sugar’s time, asking all his questions and jotting her answers down in a notebook in less than twenty minutes. “I think that’s all the questions I have for you, Miss Sugar,” he said as he stood and pocketed his notebook. “We’re going to do a cursory search of the property and the cellar. One of our detectives is going to come out and ask you a few more questions and do a mouth swab just to see if there’s a match with any trace evidence they can pull off the trunk or the shirt. My guess would be no, owing to how old everything is—any trace evidence would probably have degraded by now, but we have to be thorough.”
“That’s fine, young man. You do what you have to do, and I’m not even going to ask that the trunk and its contents be returned. You may dispose of it as you see fit whenever you’re done with all the testing and scientific whatnot you’ll have to do to it.”
Merilee met Wade’s gaze behind Sugar’s head. They both knew she watchedForensic Filesand the Investigation Discovery channel religiously and could probably lead a forensic investigation by herself.
“Yes, ma’am. It won’t be me doing all the lab work, but I promise you it will be in good hands.” He picked up his hat from the hall tree, then tipped the brim as he left the house.
Sugar was right behind him, picking up her netted hat—the same one she’d worn to the Atlanta Woman’s Club—and then pinning it to her hair.
Looking in the mirror behind her, she said, “If you wouldn’t mind moving your truck, Wade, I need to get to Bible study. If the police need to get inside, tell them the door’s unlocked.”
“Bible study? Since when?”
“Since I turned ninety-three. Figured it was time to start studying for my final exam.”
Wade grinned, then held the door open. Merilee began to follow but paused in front of a low chest she hadn’t noticed before, two silver-framed photographs standing neatly on top.
“Is this you?” Merilee asked, holding up one of the photos. “I recognize the hat.” It was a black-and-white picture of a stunning young blond woman—not really more than a girl—tall and elegant, wearing clothes in the style of the nineteen forties, surrounded by three men. One was considerably older, the other two in their mid-twenties. All three wore suits and ties, looking uncomfortable, as if they were used to wearing more casual clothes.
Sugar stepped closer to see, then nodded. “That was taken at my mother’s funeral. My daddy wanted a keepsake. And he was right—this is the last photograph taken of him before he died just a few months later. That’s Harry and Will. That scar on Harry’s cheek—he received that at Normandy. That scar and his medal’s all he came back with. He left any sense of decency and honor back on those beaches, pretty much.”
Merilee studied the photograph, especially Sugar. She had always suspected that Sugar had been a beautiful woman, and this confirmed it. She was Hollywood-glamour beautiful, the kind of face and body you’d see on pinups at the time. Not that Sugar Prescott would ever have posed for a pinup. But there was something else about the photo of the woman with the three men. About the way she stood a little in front of them, the father’s hand on her arm instead of the other way around, as if she were the one offering support. And guidance.
“And this one?” Merilee asked, holding up a photo of an impossibly young Sugar with a handsome man in uniform. She was wearing a white suit with a matching hat and carrying a bouquet of flowers. “You and Tom on your wedding day?”
Sugar nodded. “I’m going to be late.”
“Sorry—coming,” she said, giving the photograph one last look. There was something about it that made Merilee pause. Both Tom and Sugar were smiling, but it was more than that simple expression. It was something that reminded Merilee of herself.
“Coming,” Merilee said again, carefully replacing the frame before following Sugar and Wade out the door.
Wade settled Sugar into her car and watched as she began to drive away before climbing into his truck. Leaning out his window, he called to Merilee, “Do I need to get you a corsage or something for the gala? Or coordinate the color of my cummerbund?”
“Nah. Let’s pretend we’re adults for one evening and dispense with all that.”
“If you say so.” His smile brightened. “Would it be nerdy to admit that I’m looking forward to the evening?”
She felt that zing again and made a mental note to check out Netflix as soon as she got home. “Yes,” she said.
“Yes?”
Before she could respond, she noticed a black Mercedes coming down the drive toward them, and Wade turned to look, too.
