She nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Definitely. That much I can tell you.”
Mid-twentieth century was too recent to be Susanna or Eliza. So, who wasthis? But I answered my own question almost as soon as it came to mind.
The lady in the wall.
I’d thought that was just what Henry had dubbed her because she’d come from inside his closet. Turns out it had been this wall all along. The one the screaming woman had startled me into falling against. Had she been trying to tell me about the bones hidden there?
The rest of the day was a blur of questions from the police asking the same things over and over, testing my story of how I knew the body was there, most likely finding my account of having a dream about it hard to believe. Fortunately, the age of the remains eliminated anyone currently living at Dawes House as a suspect in her death.
“I’m surprised someone didn’t find her sooner,” one of the officers said to Whit as we walked him to the main door of the building. “This place has been renovated more times than I can count. My granddaddy used to talk about how it was always being worked on when he was a kid, crews coming and going. I seem to recall the same thing when I was growing up.”
Whit nodded. “Guess we just never did much in the basement. We’ve only recently started converting that area into additional apartments.” He frowned like something had just occurred to him as he added, “It was probably only a matter of time before one of the construction crews came across the bones.”
The officer shook his head. “I’m not a superstitious person, but no way in hell I’d ever be caught living here with all the history of this place. But you’d know more of the history, wouldn’t ya, Mr. Proffitt?” He clapped Whit on the back and then tipped his chin down in a curt motion. “Y’all have a good day now. We’ll let you know what we find out.”
Chapter twenty-two
June was the first to visit, bringing Henry upstairs after the police had gone. “Zellie, darlin’, are you alright? I can’t imagine getting that kind of shock! I brought you some tea for your nerves. It’s my own recipe. I want you to drink it all, now. I don’t want to hear from Whit that you left a single leaf behind.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, offering her a weak smile from where I sat on the couch, my knees to my chest. “Thank you.”
Whit opened the door for her, not exactly a subtle hint for her to leave.
“You know,” June said, heading toward the kitchen instead, “I think I’ll just go ahead and make you a cup before I go, make sure you don’t forget.”
“Thank you, June,” Whit said, exasperation evident in his tone. “I’m sure I can manage a cup of tea if you are otherwise engaged.”
She waved away his words like she was swatting a fly and addressed me instead. “It is no trouble at all. You just rest there, Zellie, darlin’. I’ll have you feeling right as rain in no time.”
Whit heaved a long sigh and swung the door closed none too gently.
June finally left after a couple of hours of fussing over me, making sure I had a comfy cushion behind me so my back wouldn’t protest, that I had enough hot water for my tea, that Henry had a nice hot lunch like he was used to when he was with “Mamaw June.”
She almost completely ignored Whit’s insistence that he could capably take care of me, clucking her tongue and sending disapproving looks his way as if to imply if that were the case I wouldn’t have suffered “such a shock” in the first place.
Whit had just shut the door behind her when a knock made his jaw clench and his posture go rigid. He pulled the door open with an irritated jerk of the handle only to see Pearlie standing there holding a plate of cookies.
“Oh, Zellie, honey!” Pearlie cried, brushing past Whit as if he weren’t even there. She set the plate of cookies on the coffee table and held out both her hands to me. “How are you, baby?”
I took her outstretched hands, and she sat down on the couch, pulling me into her arms, rocking me gently.
“I’m okay, Ms. Pearlie,” I assured her, but too comforted by her motherly concern to pull away. “I just feel awful for that poor woman.”
“Whitman Montgomery Proffitt,” Pearlie admonished, “why are you just standing there in the doorway? Get this poor girl some warmer blankets. She’s shivering!”
I didn’t know I was until Pearlie mentioned it. Then a rhythmic clacking caught my attention, and I realized it was my teeth chattering.
Whit sent Pearlie an annoyed look but obediently turned and went down the hall to grab a blanket from my bed. When he returned, Pearlie wrapped me up tightly and hugged me close.
“There now,” she soothed. “That’s more like it. Is that better, baby?”
I nodded, the chattering already subsiding. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why don’t we go get some lunch?” Whit said, holding his hand out to Henry, ignoring the fact that June had already fed Henry not half an hour earlier.
Henry immediately hopped up from where he’d been quietly coloring. “Yes, sir.” He scurried off to get his shoes but a moment later called out, “Mama! I can’t find my other shoe!”
I extricated myself from my blankets despite Pearlie’s protest about needing to let Whit get it. “It’s okay, Ms. Pearlie. Really. I can take care of it. I’m not going to break in half.” I smiled and then laughed a little shakily. “Just have to tell the bones to stop rattling, right?”
