“I am an officer of the court,” Gabe said. He nodded toward Brooke. “And so is she. Did you kill him?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t tell you,” Josephine said.
“Do you know who killed him, Auntie?” Felicia peered at her great-aunt.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. We swore that night, and I won’t go back on my word,” Varina said.
“It couldn’t have been you,” Felicia said forcefully. “You’re the most God-fearing woman I’ve ever known. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Varina gave her an indulgent smile. “Child, we are all sinners in this world. I have tried to live the Lord’s word the best way I know how, but the Bible tells us we are all born sinners, craving the Lord’s forgiveness.”
“It couldn’t have been Granny, no matter what he did to her,” Brooke said. “I bet she didn’t even know how to fire a gun.”
“Weallknew how to shoot,” Josephine corrected her. “We learned to shoot sporting clays at summer camp. And of course, Gardiner taught me how to hunt.” She pointed at a pair of impressive deer mounts on the wall above the sideboard. “That eight-point buck is one I shot when I was twelve. That one”—she pointed to the mount on the right—“Gardiner shot just a week before the party.”
She nodded at Varina. “You know how to shoot, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” Varina said. “On an island like this—with rattlesnakes and gators and wild hogs, every family has a gun and every child learns how to shoot it, even little bitty girls like me. My daddy had a big ol’ pistol, and he made me learn how to use it.”
“This is just unbelievable,” Lizzie said, slapping the tabletop for emphasis. “But it doesn’t really solve the big mysteries of the night. What happened to Russell Strickland’s body? Was it ever discovered? Granny’s scrapbooks just covered the year he disappeared. And it was a huge story at the time.”
“To my knowledge, the body was never found,” Josephine said.
32
October 1941
Harley Shaddix’s shoulders sagged as he parked the rusted pickup in front of Shellhaven. Samuel Bettendorf had been waiting for him, nervously pacing back and forth in front of the house, wearing a path in the lush green grass.
Dusk was approaching. Most of their houseguests had departed on the four o’clock ferry, including Millie Everhart’s mother and grandmother, but it had been hours since anyone had seen or heard from Russell Strickland. The knot of worry burned in his gut.
The hound tethered to a cleat in the bed of the pickup truck hung his head over the side, panting heavily.
“Anything?” Bettendorf asked.
“No, sir,” Harley said. He pointed at his dog. “Butch, he picked up a scent out in that dove field and followed it right close to the deer stand. Then, coming back down the road, he acted like he picked it up again, but I couldn’t find no sign of Mr. Strickland.”
“His kit and all his clothes and suitcases are still in his room,” Bettendorfsaid. “I can’t tell what’s missing, other than his shotgun. Poor Millie is so upset, I hate to ask her to look through his things. Josephine and Ruth are with her now, trying to keep her calm.”
“I talked to my boys,” Harley said. “Homer said he showed Mr. Russell the spot where we seen that big ol’ buck Mr. Gardiner’s been tracking. And Friday, he talked about he was gonna bag him a trophy while he was on the island.” Harley winced as he tried to take the weight off his bad leg. “I got Omar and Otis out in the bateau, looking in the creek in case he decided to go fishing.”
“Good idea,” Bettendorf said. “I wish to God Gardiner were here right now. He’d know where to look.”
“Varina tells me your boy’s gone off to fight in the war,” Harley said.
Bettendorf’s posture stiffened. “He’s a goddamn fool. What happens in Europe is not this country’s concern. But I couldn’t talk him out of it. Couldn’t stop him from going.”
“He’s a grown man,” Harley said. “My boys, they say they’re gonna sign up first chance they get.” He sighed. “I can’t talk no sense into them neither.”
The two men, one black, one white, leaned against the bed of the truck, gazing up at the sky, where the last orange streaks of sunlight were visible through the tree line.
“Getting dark,” Harley said, scratching at the stubble of beard on his chin. “City boy like that, how’s he gonna do alone at night in a place like this?”
***
Ruth peered out the window at the scene below. “Your father’s back with the truck,” she told Varina, who crouched uneasily on the chair at the dressing table. “He’s got a huge dog with him. I’ve never seen a dog like that.”
Varina craned her neck to see. “That’s Butch. My brothers take him coon hunting. He can scent anything. Daddy must have been out looking for that bad man.” She wouldn’t say his name out loud. She would never say his name.
