Page 98 of The Night the Lights Went Out
“Think about it,” Wade said. “Heather killed Dan—I think we all know that’s true. She’s the only one who would benefit from his death—and let’s not forget she was at the party and was involved in every piece of circumstantial evidence the police are using to build their case against you. And now she’s trying to get away with murder and set you up.”
Merilee lifted her gaze from Sugar’s finger to meet her eyes. “I just wish I knew why. What if it was something I said or did that made her target me?”
Sugar gave her the sternest look she could muster. “This is not your fault. Heather is crazy, and you can’t reason with crazy. So stop wallowing in what-ifs. Unless you killed someone, none of this is justified. You need to get more angry and less sad. And then go do something about it.”
Merilee pulled back as if she’d been struck. “I didn’t kill anyone. Contrary to popular belief that I’m a serial killer, I’m a nice, normal person. Or at least I used to be.” She stood, jolting the swing. “I have to call my lawyer now and tell her about the search, and find out what the hell I’m supposed to do next. And hopefully it involves hanging Heather with her own rope.”
Sugar sat back, trying not to look smug, while Wade took Merilee’s hand as she moved to the door. “Do you want me to stay?”
Without looking at him, she shook her head. “I’m not good company right now.”
He let her go and she entered the house, closing the door softly behind her.
Sugar moved the swing with her foot, her memories thick around her, as they always were when she was at the cottage. The wind seemed to blow at them from different angles, as if confused as to its purpose, scuttling dry leaves along the steps and walkway. She’d have to remember to bring Merilee a broom.
“What are you thinking?” Wade asked. “Whenever you put your jaw like that, it always warns me that you’re up to something.”
“Of course I am—and so are you. This whole business with Merilee is worrisome. It’s a circumstantial case, and the police know it, but my friend in the mayor’s office says Heather is pushing for an arrest. She’s promising to bring down all sorts of hellfire and fury on the chief of police if an arrest isn’t made soon. They’re all feeling the pressure to find something incriminating. Like a shoe that they find hidden in plain sight.”
Wade lifted a brow. “How do you know all this?”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m an old lady, which means I’m harmless. Whenever I ask a question, I always get an answer. I expect they think I’ll forget it before I can repeat it.” She allowed her lips to lift just a little.
“I’m going to the police station now, to speak with that Detective Harrell. Let him know I remember the flip-flops,” Wade said. “And thank God that I do.”
“Why?” Sugar asked. “Do you need the evidence to convince yourself that Merilee is innocent?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t need evidence. I just need to sound sane when I speak to somebody else. Nobody believes in blind faith anymore.”
She stood carefully, pausing a moment for all her blood circulation to know that she was now upright.
“Where are you going?” Wade asked.
“To make a good dinner for Merilee and those children before she orders pizza again. That delivery boy is here so much I’m going to start charging him rent.”
Wade took her arm and helped her down the steps but knew better than to ask if she wanted a lift back to her house. At the bottom of the steps, she turned to face him. “I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know for sure that Heather Blackford is responsible for all of this. And that woman doesn’t know who she’s messing with. Karma or not, she’s got it coming to her, and I want to be there when it arrives.”
THE PLAYING FIELDS BLOG
Observations of Suburban Life from Sweet Apple, Georgia
Written by: Your Neighbor
Installment #10: Truth and Lies
I’m not going to pretend that we aren’t all talking about the news item that not only has been splashed on the covers of three local-area newspapers including our ownSweet Apple Heraldbut, owing to the prominence of the victim, has been reported in theAtlanta Journal-Constitution. If I start seeing national news media trucks, I’m packing it in and calling it a day. Because this is the sort of tragedy that is best left to be grieved in the privacy of our own homes and not broadcast into strangers’ lives when people are eating their dinners or putting on makeup and need background noise. Because, neighbors, this is a story about a human tragedy that has no business being relegated to the background.
This murder—yes, we’ve all been made aware that his death was not an accident—is a tragedy. The victim was a loving father of two little girls who adored him and who miss him now, and who will miss him when he’s not there to walk them down the aisle at their weddings. It’s as heartbreaking as it is cruel, and the gossiping I’m hearing in the nail salon, coffee shop, and grocery store is not only vulgar but demeaning. And hurtful for those left behind. Well, for most of those left behind.
There’s a lot of talk and innuendo about what happened or didn’t happen. About who’s involved and whose name hasn’t been mentioned. To all parties concerned, remember one thing: Truth, like oil, will always rise to the surface. I know there’re at least two of you who are worrying something fierce about the truth—one because she’s afraid it will remain hidden. And the other afraid that it won’t. I’d like to say that worrying makes big shadows of small things. But there’s nothing small here. A man has been killed, and despite a lot of finger-pointing, only one person—two if you can count a dead man—knows the truth.
Now, enough of all this ugliness—it’s almost Thanksgiving, and I’d like to turn our focus onto happier topics. So on to a lighter note. As we approach the holidays, I want to remind everyone that they’re all about family and not about the perfect turkey or the prettiest table settings. Good food and a beautiful home are wonderful to have and to share with loved ones, but not at the expense of enjoying your company.
I have it on very good authority that the prebaked turkeys and honey-baked hams at Costco are divine and probably better than you can make in your own kitchen. Their sides of mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and macaroni and cheese will rival your own. They come in these convenient foil baking tins with the instructions right on the lid. When they’re done baking, and your house is smelling like home cooking, you just put them into your own china serving pieces and nobody’s the wiser. It’s a win-win: delicious food that everybody enjoys, and a hostess who’s not passed out from exhaustion at the head of the table.
I know there are a lot of diehards out there who will insist it won’t be as good as what they could bring to their table or what grandma makes. I understand. It’s hard to switch parties mid-election (and that is the first and last political comment you will see on this blog). But the Wright brothers didn’t invent the airplane by saying their bikes worked just fine.
After the sad news in our community, this Thanksgiving let’s not forget to give thanks for family, good friends, and neighbors. They are truly life’s blessings, and we shouldn’t forget to be grateful for them. Sadly, every garden has some weeds. The hardest thing sometimes is in determining the good people in your life from the rotten ones, because unlike apples, you can’t tell a good one from looking at their skin.
