Mama Stalks the Past (3 page)

“Simone has already been accepted at Emory in Atlanta,” Mama continued. “It’s only a four-hour drive from Atlanta to Otis. You can visit home as often as you want.”

“Otis is where we belong, Candi,” Daddy insisted.

“We’ve lived in cities for so long … I don’t know if I can adjust to going back to Otis, James. There’s no more than five thousand people living within the town’s limit.”

“Five thousand
good
people,” Daddy had pointed out.

Mama hadn’t replied.

“Candi,” Daddy argued, “I know you’re worried about being away from Simone, but trust me on this one, she’ll be all right. Like you said, we’ve lived in a lot of places, most of them crowded cities. Now that I’m ready to settle, I want to go home.”

Still, Mama didn’t say anything.

“You said yourself, Otis is real close to Atlanta. Go with me on this one, Baby, we ain’t going to get too far from Simone.” He paused. “I promise you, I ain’t going to let nothing happen to our little girl.”

I remembered thinking that since Mama
wasn’t going to be happy in Otis, Daddy wasn’t doing the right thing to take her there. Now, however, the concern in her voice about the town’s reaction to Hannah Mixon’s murder and the legacy she’d left Mama made me change my mind. Mama loved being in Otis, back home.

“Don’t pay any attention to Nat,” I told her now. “He’s just bitter and selfish. You’ve done so much for the people in this town since you’ve returned. Everybody knows you’re not the kind of a woman who would rob a crazy old woman.”

“Whining Nat will make it sound like I befriended his mother just so that I could talk her into giving me her money. Certain people in this town like to hear that kind of stuff, especially since I—”

“Mama,” I cut in sternly. “You’re the one who’s overreacting, don’t you think?”

“Simone, it’s
important
what my neighbors think about me!”

I touched her hand. “Come on, pretty lady,” I coaxed, noticing without envy how her smooth skin and soft features made her look more like my sister than my mother. “This is the first time something like this has happened.”

“What about those two old women who accused me of stealing their food stamps?”

“If my memory serves me right, those two
women accused
everybody
of stealing from them.”

Mama gave me a long, searching look. “I’ve always wondered whether a few people still believe …” she faltered.

“Uncle Ben’s trial made it clear that Aunt Agnes was behind those stolen food stamps,” I said firmly. “Anyway, you must not have been the only person who didn’t like Miss Hannah, ’cause somebody killed her.”

Mama sighed and shook her head sadly. “I suppose what really concerns me is that Abe didn’t call me about the poison until after he got the autopsy report.”

“So?”

“That’s not like Abe. Maybe …”

“Daddy said that Hannah attracted enemies.”

“You think Abe knew about Hannah’s will?”

“Mama, Abe Stanley is your friend!”

Mama sipped her coffee, but she didn’t say anything. I decided to change the subject. “You didn’t ask me about Sidney,” I said.

“What is your boss up to now?” she demanded.

“He’s got a new client, one we’ve been spending most of our time with over the past months.”

“So?”

“This case has a hint of dirt to it, like an ink spot on a white blouse.”

“Go on,” Mama said. I could see she was still thinking about who might have murdered Hannah Mixon.

“Our client is the son of an Atlanta minister.”

“What’s so unique about that?”

“He’s been charged with killing a young Korean prostitute.”

Mama’s fingers drummed on the table. “And?”

“Sidney believes he’s been set up.”

“Why would anybody do that?” she asked.

“When we find the answer, we’ll find the real killer,” I said.

Mama looked funny, like the wheels in her head were spinning but whatever they were on to, it had nothing to do with Sidney or his client.

At ten o’clock Monday morning, my parents, Nat, and I were sitting in Calvin Stokes’s law office, an office that’s located over Casey Drug Store on Lee Street.

Calvin is a tall white man with a bearded face and blond hair over one of his eyes. His forehead is broad and unlined, his eyebrows light commas over his deep-set, very blue eyes. The only wrinkles on his face are barely noticeable crow’s-feet.

Calvin is Otis County’s rags-to-riches son. His father was a small-time soybean farmer;
young Calvin dreamed of becoming a lawyer. He graduated from Otis High School, then joined the Army. After he was discharged, he went to the University of South Carolina, then on to law school. Eight years later he came back home to stay, home to practice law.

Calvin’s firm consists of himself. The bulk of the day-to-day work is taken care of by a legal secretary, Louise Barker. There is also a receptionist named Norma Jenkins, a graduate of Salkehatchie in Clairmont.

Everybody in Otis used Calvin for legal matters: Hannah Mixon had come to him to make her will.

Calvin’s office is large, with plenty of windows, lots of clean white space, and a dark green carpet in an expensive wool. Framed watercolors decorate the walls.

Now Calvin appraised his desk, then moved the marble pen holder a half inch to the left. “Nat,” he began, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to this thing before now. I’ve been out of town for the past three weeks. I didn’t hear about your poor mother’s death until early Friday morning.”

Nat scowled.

Calvin looked from Nat to Mama. “I called you both as soon as I could,” he continued.

“When did Hannah make this will?” Mama asked him.

“Two months ago,” Calvin replied.

“What made her do it?” I asked.

Calvin shook his head. “I asked Hannah the same thing. She, well, she …”

Nat fidgeted in his chair. He wouldn’t look at Mama. “I ain’t stupid. You and Miss Candi is thieving me together.
You
talked Mama into leaving everything to Miss Candi, didn’t you?”

Calvin looked at him. When he spoke, his words were somber. “Hannah didn’t leave
everything
to Grace,” he said.

Nat’s eyebrows went up and he sat forward in his chair, the surprise on his face shining.

“Let me read the will and you’ll see what your Mama had in mind.”

Calvin began:

“I, Hannah Mixon, being of sound mind, leave my house, my furniture, my insurance policies, and whatever cash I have to my son, Nat Mixon.”

Pleased, Nat grinned.

“
I leave two hundred and fifty acres to Candi Covington, my next-door neighbor. Candi Covington cannot sell or will this land to any other person for five years from the date of my death
. That’s it,” Calvin finished.

There was absolute silence in the law office. Then Nat roared: “She left Miss Candi the best part!”

Calvin gave us a helpless look as he brushed
his pale hair from his eye. He turned his palms up.

“M-my Mama wasn’t crazy,” Nat stuttered. “All of you are in this together, trying to steal my land!”

“Nat, please—” Mama began.

Nat wailed, “You’re a thief and I’m going to tell the whole town what you are!”

That was too much for Mama. “Shut up and let me finish talking!” she snapped. “I’ve never had one conversation with your mother. How could I have
talked
her into
anything
?”

But Nat wasn’t convinced. He started shaking his finger at Mama again. “You think I’m stupid!”

Mama’s eyes widened. “Don’t you point that—”

“You’re not going to get away with this!” Nat yelled, jumping out of his chair and towering over Mama.

Daddy’d had enough, “
NAT
,” he shouted, “
SIT DOWN!
”

Nat, who had swollen up like a bullfrog, looked into Daddy’s glaring eyes. Then he sat down.

Calvin took a deep breath, glad that things seemed temporarily under control. He moved the marble pen holder another half inch to the
left. “There it is,” he said. “Oh, yeah, Abe called me Friday afternoon and—”

Mama shook her head, signaling Calvin not to mention what the sheriff had told him. I realized that her question to me on Friday night had been answered. Abe Stanley did know about the will and its strange provision before he had called Mama two days ago to tell her that Miss Hannah had been poisoned.

Daddy scratched his head. “This is crazy,” he muttered.

“Nothing about this whole thing makes sense!” Mama said softly.

Nat was breathing heavily. He shot a look at Mama, one that made her reach over and touch his arm. “I don’t know why your mother did what she did,” she told him firmly, in the tone of voice you use when you talk to a bad-tempered child.

“Ain’t nothing but you talked her into doing something against me,” Nat insisted.

“I never spoke once to your mother.”

“Yeah, right!” Nat said sourly.

“I’ll prove that I don’t want your land. I’ll sign it over to you right now!” Mama turned to Calvin.

But Calvin shook his head. “Can’t do that, Grace. Not for five years.”

Nat growled deep in his throat.

There was a look of determination in Mama’s eyes that I knew very well. “There must be a way to get around that stipulation,” she said.

“I’ll check into it,” Calvin told her, “but Judge Thompson doesn’t like breaking wills.”

Nat’s mouth formed a grudging line. “I’ve got obligations,” he said bitterly.

“Use the insurance money you’ve got,” Daddy snapped. “Sell the house if you have to.”

“Nat,” Mama said, sounding a little embarrassed. “
Please, don’t tell people that Hannah left me that land!”

Nat’s eyes moved around the room. His breathing rasped. He shifted in his seat.

“If you tell anybody … 
one soul
that Hannah left me those two hundred and fifty acres I won’t give it back to you,” Mama said, probably reading his mind. It wasn’t hard to see that Nat Mixon intended to make trouble.

Nat’s eyes narrowed. There was an ugly light in them.

“I’m not kidding,” Mama continued. “If I hear a
whisper
from one person in this town that Hannah left me that land I’ll call Calvin and tell him to stop trying to break the will … I mean it!”

Nat pouted.

“Boy, if you keep this thing quiet,” Daddy said, “you’ll get your land soon as Calvin talks
the judge into breaking Hannah’s five-year stipulation. I’ll see to it personally.”

Mama looked at Calvin.

“I’ll start working on it today,” Calvin promised, and I knew he would.

Nat stared at Mama, as if he’d never seen her before. Then he muttered reluctantly, “Okay, I won’t tell nobody.”

So, why didn’t I believe him?

Daddy leaned back. “Then we understand each other, don’t we?”

Nat got to his feet, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, as though wiping away sweat. Today he had replaced his shabby clothes with a somewhat threadbare suit, but the ruby still gleamed in his nostril. “If that’s all you got to tell me, can I go now?” he asked us all, nastily.

Calvin spoke. “You can do whatever you want with everything else Hannah left.”

Nat glanced at Mama, nodded, then slammed out the door. Calvin cupped his chin in his hand. He sighed. “Now that he’s gone, Grace, I have to say that Hannah was not herself when she made this will.”

“What do you mean?” Mama asked.

Calvin frowned. “Let’s just say I wasn’t surprised when Abe told me she had been murdered.”

We stared at him in astonished silence. What
on earth could he mean? From everything we’d heard and seen, Hannah Mixon had been a sour, unfriendly woman, but who would have wanted to kill her? Things like that just don’t happen in Otis.

“There was something else,” Calvin continued. “Hannah told me that she wanted you to look in the house for an envelope, Grace.”

“An envelope?” Daddy asked. “What’s in it?”

“Hannah wouldn’t say,” Calvin replied.

“Why didn’t she just give it to you or to Abe?” Daddy asked.

“When Hannah came to my office that day and told me what was on her mind about the will, I tried to talk her out of it. But my reluctance just seemed to make her more determined. Maybe she didn’t trust me with whatever’s in that envelope. Or Abe, either. But whatever it is, it seemed very important to her that you look for it, Grace.” He shook his head and sighed again.

“The whole thing is so secretive, just like something crabby old Hannah would concoct,” Daddy said.

“Hannah had an edginess about her,” Calvin agreed. Because Sidney has more than one crazy client, I knew Calvin’s words hid a lot more than they betrayed.

“I don’t know why we’ve got to get mixed up with this mess,” Daddy objected. “Let Abe find
who killed her. You just figure out a way for Candi to give Nat back his land so well be out of this thing.”

Calvin sighed. “As I said, I’ll talk to Judge Thompson about breaking the will, but frankly I can’t promise you much of anything. The judge doesn’t like making exceptions. Says once he starts there will be no end to how far he’ll have to go to satisfy hungry relatives.”

Mama spoke as if she were totally unaware of the conversation that had just taken place between my father and the lawyer. “There is one person in this town who’s a killer. And it seems that spiteful Hannah has put me to work finding him!” she murmured.