Sheriff Shaw closely cruised the opened highways. Thanks to accurate weather reports no stranded motorists needed pulling out or carrying home. For once people had the sense to stay home.
Deputy Cooper manned headquarters with the dispatcher. The quiet was refreshing. She took the opportunity to go over Mychelle Burns's bank accounts. In her neat hand, sloping forward, she'd written every deposit and withdrawal. Apart from the five-thousand-dollar withdrawal from her savings account, which she'd gotten up to seven thousand two hundred and nineteen dollars, her accounts were pretty much like everyone else's: electric bill, oil bill, gas bill, the occasional restaurant bill.
Mychelle's sense impressed Cooper. She kept only one credit card and she used it sparingly even at Christmas when most of us throw caution to the winds, overcome by seasonal cheer as well as guilt. She maintained no gas credit cards, no debit cards. She owned no cell phone, and according to Sugar McCarry, the secretary at the county office, Mychelle did not abuse the business cell phone.
When Cooper questioned Mychelle's mother, the sorrowing woman said although she didn't know about the money she thought her daughter might be saving for the down payment on a house. Mychelle had wanted to move into downtown Charlottesville, hopefully around the Lyons Court area. If she couldn't swing that then she'd look around Woolen Mills, which was lovely except for the sewage treatment plant. When the wind shifted you knew it.
As Cooper read the neat notations she had a sense of a life lost. Mychelle may not have been the most personable woman, but she was tidy, efficient, hardworking, and to all appearances, she kept her nose clean.
Was she having an affair with H.H.? Cooper could find no sign of it in these white checkbook and savings book pages.
So the call from Mrs. Burns startled her.
"Are you keeping warm out there, ma'am?" Cooper tried to put the nervous, grieving woman at ease.
"Wood-burning stove. Works a treat," Mrs. Burns replied in her working-class accent, which was noticeably different from the speech of Harry, Big Mim, and the others.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Burns? I know this is a painful time."
A little intake of breath, a moment, then the wiry lady said, "You take what God gives you."
"I'm trying to learn that, ma'am, but it's hard."
"Yes, 'tis. Yes, 'tis. Sittin' here. Can't get to work. Mind's turnin' over." She paused, longer this time. "I lied to you."
"I'm sure you had a good reason." Cooper, like all law enforcement officers, was accustomed to people lying to her. In fact, they lied more than they told the truth. She was fighting not to have it pervert her sense of life.
"Wanted to protect my little girl-but can't. She's gone to the light of the Lord." Another pause. "She was seeing a married man. I read her scripture and verse." Mrs. Burns used an expression meaning they'd had a knock-down-drag-out argument. "Uh-huh. She said I was old, forgot what it was to be in love. You know, she was right about that. Don't really want to remember, I guess." Cooper held her breath and Mrs. Burns finally got to the point. "Was H. H. Donaldson."
"Ah."
"Never met him. Might have been a nice man, but he was married, had a child. Didn't want to meet him. Didn't want her being no backstreet woman, no colored girl waiting around for her vanilla lover."
"Mrs. Burns, he must have loved her very much. He left his wife for her."
"Mychelle swore he would. Didn't believe her. They all lie like that."
"But he did leave. Did she tell you?"
"No." Mrs. Burns stifled a sob. "I said some mean things. Oh Lordy, I wish I could take 'em back. And I didn't talk to my baby for three days before she was taken from me."
"She knows you love her, ma'am. I promise you she knows what you told her was right."
Mrs. Burns composed herself. "But he left his wife and child?"
"He did. For a little while."
"Mychelle was afraid of his wife." Mrs. Burns carefully spoke. "She knew. Said she'd kill him if he left her."
Cooper didn't jump on this right off. She tacked toward shore instead of sailing in a straight line. "I guess it's so humiliating for a wife. It's easier to be angry at the other woman than at your husband."
"Doesn't work. Put up with it or throw him out. I threw mine out fifteen years ago. Mychelle knew better, Officer Cooper, she did. That's what got me crossways with her."
"I can certainly understand that. Do you think Mychelle was afraid that Mrs. Donaldson would become violent? Take out her revenge?"
"Feared for him. And maybe for herself, too. Said he could be blind sometimes. Like most men."
"Did you . . . fear for your daughter?"
"My fear was about a different kind of hurt. I didn't imagine this. When I got the call"-she breathed heavily again-"I didn't think about nothin'. Had some time to order my mind, kind of like arranging furniture. You find stuff behind the sofa cushions. And I remember that Mychelle said she found something. She didn't say what it was, but she said she told H.H. Said he'd put a stop to it."
"Maybe someone was gossiping, getting close to the affair?"
"I don't know."
"Do you know why she withdrew the five thousand dollars? Do you think they were going to run away together?"
"No. Know that for a fact. I didn't know she had withdrawn the money. I told you the truth about that. Like I said, we hadn't spoken for three days. She said H.H. was going to help her with a house."
"Did she say he was going to live with her?"
"No." Mrs. Burns considered this. "Even though she was in love with the man, she would have waited. You know, it's oh so easy to move them in and oh so hard to move them out."
"Yes, ma'am. When Mychelle talked to you about finding something, did she sound frightened?"
"More surprised. She said, 'Momma, people do the damnedest things.' That was all she said 'cept H.H. would take care of it. And I was so mad at her I didn't care 'bout that. I wanted her to stay away from that man. And I believe she's dead because of him."
"You think his wife killed her?"
"She had the reason."
"Did Mychelle ever talk to Mrs. Donaldson?"
"No."
"Mrs. Donaldson never tried to contact your daughter, to scare her off or shame her off?" Cooper gently prodded.
"Mychelle would have told me."
"Do you think she told anyone else? A best friend?"
"She had her running gang but Mychelle didn't ever get close to people. She would tell me things but I don't think she talked to her girlfriends. When she did get close, it was with H.H. He was her world. When he died in the parking lot, she died, too, I think. Part of her, but I tell you, she never let on. Iron will, my girl."
"I see." Coop kept writing as she talked. "Apart from Mrs. Donaldson, can you think of anyone who bore your daughter a grudge?"
"Oh, sometimes contractors would fuss at her. She was strict." A note of pride filled Mrs. Burns's voice when she said, "They couldn't get 'round my girl no way. But none of them said they'd kill her. Be crazy to kill someone over a roof shingle."
"The world's full of crazy people."
"You got that right." Mrs. Burns sighed. "But I tell myself whoever done this, Mrs. Donaldson, whoever, they et up with guilt, just et up, and sooner or later it will all come out like a poison."
She was wrong.
The murder didn't bother the killer one tiny bit.
39
Although their Friday game had been canceled, the storm moved off more quickly than the weatherman predicted. Coach Debbie Ryan saw no reason to waste the evening so she had the girls come in for practice. Those with dates were disappointed. Others, like the Hall sisters, ate, slept, and breathed basketball.
Tim Berryhill had told coaches that he had to oversee an extensive inventory because of purchasing errors. He apologized to all. Most of the coaches, under pressure to perform, would work around the inconvenience. Those few coaches without tunnel vision might wonder, to themselves at least, why such an exalted person as Tim Berryhill was performing the actual work, but they wouldn't dwell on it. Coaches had far too much to do and too little time in which to do it.