Mama Cracks a Mask of Innocence (3 page)

“Simone, do you know Ira Manson?” Mama asked me. “He’s Otis’s upcoming radio personality.”

The boy smiled proudly.

“I’m impressed,” I told him, and meant it.

“I haven’t had a chance to listen to your program, Ira,” Mama continued, “but I’m told that the young people enjoy having a deejay playing the kind of music they want to hear.”

Ira started to say something when Pepper’s bright red purse fell open and a nail file, a ballpoint pen, an appointment book, a packet of headache powders, a lipstick, and a cosmetic powder sponge spilled onto the floor. Hastily Ira bent to pick up the stuff that fell from Pepper’s purse. When Pepper threw Ira an appreciative glance, he cleared his throat as if he might have been a little embarrassed.

Pepper smiled, then walked out of the center. Ira followed.

Sarah Jenkins, Annie Mae Gregory, and Carrie Smalls entered the center just as another boy around Ira’s age, whom Mama addressed as Stone, dumped a bag of clothes inside the doorway. “Tootsie Long sent these,” he said as he hurried back out the door.

Carrie Smalls, a tall erect woman who is, I think, the ringleader of the three women, was the first to enter the room. The fragrance of jasmine engulfed her.

Sarah Jenkins, a woman with a sickly yellow-squash complexion, and complaints of as many ailments as she can pronounce, eased in behind Carrie, the usual medicinal odor identifying her.

Annie Mae Gregory wobbled in next. I couldn’t tell how she smelled since the combination of her companions’ scents bombarded my sense of smell. Annie Mae is a big woman who has small dark eyes with circles around them. She always reminds me of a raccoon. When she looks at you a certain way she appears cross-eyed. “You’ve got a bountiful heap of contributions,” Annie Mae said, surveying the piles of clothes stacked throughout the room.

Mama nodded, her eyes shining proudly.

Just then a man standing in the doorway cleared his throat. He was tastefully dressed in tailored clothes. “I understand this is where I’d find the prettiest ladies in town,” he said.

“Ray Raisin!” Sarah beamed. “I knew you’d come like you promised.”

Cousin Agatha shot Sarah an icy look.

Tall, brown-skinned, with salt-and-pepper brows and a head of silver-white hair, this man was one of the most gracefully-aged black men I’d ever seen. “I don’t think I’ve met these two beautiful ladies,” he said, walking up to me and Mama.

“Candi Covington,” Mama said, then pointed to me. “My daughter, Simone.”

He turned to me, gave me a wink, and said, “It is
indeed
my pleasure!”

Agatha cut her eyes at Ray, then walked toward the back of the room.

Ray looked back and forth between us. “Sarah told me that you’re conducting your annual clothing drive,” he told Mama.

“Yes,” Mama said, glancing toward Agatha wonderingly. This was not what we’d come to expect from Agatha and we were both surprised by our cousin’s openly hostile attitude.

“I don’t have clothes to give away but I’ve got time on my hands,” Ray said. “So, I’m volunteering my time and car to help deliver the clothes.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mama said, throwing Ray a grateful glance. But her worried eyes strayed back to Agatha.

“No, it’s a bit selfish,” Ray said as if he still hadn’t noticed Agatha’s rude disposition. “You see, while
I’m offering to assist you, Miss Candi, I’m helping myself get acquainted again with the people of Otis. It’s been so long since I’ve lived here, I’ve almost forgotten many families.”

From her corner of the room, Agatha shook her head doubtfully, as if she wasn’t buying Ray’s story. In spite of whoever he claimed he’d forgotten, she obviously remembered him all too well.

“Agatha,” Ray called out to her. “Perhaps you would like to go along to help direct me to where folks live.”

I suppose, after the way Agatha looked at Ray, I shouldn’t have been surprised by Agatha’s response to that question, but I was floored. My father’s cousin, the shy and retiring woman who handles the Covingtons’ land corporation with as much professional politeness as anybody who majored in business, looked directly at Ray Raisin with such coldness I felt like putting on an overcoat. “Sarah, Annie Mae, or Carrie can take you anyplace in the three counties you want to go!” she answered contemptuously, then she strutted out the back door with an air that dared anybody to follow her.

Right after my cousin so rudely left the community center, Ray Raisin said his own good-byes and left. I felt embarrassed and sorry for the poor man. Sarah, Annie Mae, and Carrie must have shared my feelings, but they left right after he did, without lingering to gossip.

“What’s going on between Agatha and Ray?” Mama asked Gertrude once the three women were out of hearing range.

“Agatha hates Ray.”

“That’s not Agatha’s character. There must be a reason for the way she feels about him.”

“If there is one, nobody knows except Ray and Agatha and neither of them will tell.”

“Ray Raisin is educated?” I ventured, thinking of his distinguished manner and polished speech.

“He’s a retired lawyer,” Gertrude informed. “Ray was one of the first black men from around here to go to college.”

At three o’clock we were tired and hungry. Sorting clothes is a tedious task and we’d only scratched the surface.

Deciding we’d done enough for the day, Mama suggested we start again Monday morning. Hattie Russell, her boss, had agreed that Mama’s usual Monday workday could be used to get most of the clothes distributed.

We were in Mama’s house for only a few minutes when Elliott Woods stopped by. “I-I declare, Miss Candi,” he told Mama. “I had to p-put your mess of greens in the backseat of my car to k-keep other folks from buying them.”

“You’ve got a lot of customers, do you?” Mama asked kindly. Mama likes Elliott Woods.

“G-good women like yourself,” Elliott replied. “Good women who d-don’t mind helping an old man with only a garden as his support.”

After Elliott left, Mama quickly cleaned and cooked the greens. By seven, we had eaten supper and were enjoying a quiet evening. My parents and I were sitting in the backyard, a beautifully landscaped space. The air was pleasantly cool, a soft breeze stirred Mama’s garden. My father was drinking his after-dinner beer and bragging about his dog’s intelligence.

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I volunteered, thinking that nothing I’d seen of Midnight indicated that the dog was as smart as my father claimed.

If Agatha’s exit from the community center had surprised me, when I opened the door to our visitors, I almost croaked.

Hattie Russell, Mama’s boss, the director of the Department of Social Services, and Tootsie Long, a woman from the community, stood in our foyer.

Tootsie Long’s presence wasn’t as shocking as Hattie Russell’s. Hattie was around thirty-five, short, with nice legs, a small waist, and wide, full hips. When Mama had bunion surgery, Hattie sent flowers and called her every day, but she never visited. Mama is convinced that Hattie is a caring and concerned woman who just doesn’t think it’s professional to visit her employees at their homes. This little idiosyncrasy of Hattie’s explained why I was shocked to find her standing on our doorstep with Tootsie Long.

If my reaction to her visit affected her, Hattie didn’t show it. “I hope we didn’t catch anybody at a
bad time,” she said to me as she stepped inside and looked behind to see that Tootsie had followed.

“Mama is in the back,” I said, closing the door and stepping in front of her. Hattie nodded slightly, then followed me into the living room.

I saw that both Hattie and Tootsie were seated, then I excused myself and headed for the backyard to alert Mama. My mother seemed as surprised as I’d been when I told her the names of her two visitors. “Something is very wrong,” she whispered as she stood up.

I followed Mama into the living room where she greeted both her boss and Tootsie. “I must confess,” she told the women, “this is a bit of a surprise.”

Hattie fidgeted with her purse. Tootsie, who was about the same age as Hattie, held a large white handkerchief to her face, but I could still see the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Something awful has happened, something that we need your help with,” Hattie told Mama.

Mama leaned forward. “I’ll do what I can.”

Hattie glanced toward Tootsie, then back at my mother. “Abe stopped by Tootsie’s house an hour ago.” She hesitated.

Tootsie spoke, her voice a bit muffled through the handkerchief. “A man who keeps beehives in the woods a few miles out of town found Brenda’s body. She’d been strangled, her tongue split.” Tears spilled from her eyes. Her body trembled as she seemed to contemplate what she’d just told us. Her daughter, her only child, was dead.

“I’m so sorry,” Mama said.

Hattie took a deep breath as if she was trying to control her own tears. “They found the body Friday morning but Abe decided to call the State Law Enforcement people to work on the body before—” Her voice broke off. She looked at Tootsie. “They’ve got forensics experts but we—that is, Tootsie and I—have decided that no matter what SLED has to offer or what Abe does, we want
you
to find Brenda’s killer, Candi.”

Mama looked as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “Hattie, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking of me.”

“I certainly do,” Hattie snapped. “I know what you’ve done to get to the bottom of things in this town and—”

Mama interrupted. “I’ll be glad to see what I can do to help Abe,” my mother told her boss firmly but kindly.

“Abe told Tootsie that this man from SLED, Lew Hunter, is in charge. That’s not what I want,” Hattie said, determinedly. “We want to hire you. It doesn’t matter what SLED or Abe do, we want
you
to find who killed Brenda.”

“Hattie, I’m not a detective. I don’t have—”

Again, Hattie cut her off. “I have more confidence in you than Abe or fifty of those SLED people. I don’t want you to think that your work at the department is your compensation for this project. I’ll pay you separate,
twenty-five hundred dollars now and twenty-five hundred when you find Brenda’s killer.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Then I’ll give it to your favorite charity.”

“The county’s fund that assists families who don’t have enough insurance to provide a proper funeral for their loved ones could use five thousand dollars.”

“It probably won’t take but a week or two of your time, but Brenda was very special to me and I wouldn’t be able to rest until I see her murderer behind bars.” Hattie hesitated. “Tootsie may have been Brenda’s mother, but I was her mentor. Brenda and I had a very special relationship.”

Tootsie nodded.

“So, I speak for both of us when I say that Brenda was a wonderful Christian girl. She was just selected student of the month at school, was active in church, volunteered at the community center, and she won a scholarship from Wesmart where she worked part-time.”

Mama stood up and walked to the sliding glass door. She looked out to the backyard where my father and his dog were playing. She turned and looked at both Tootsie and Hattie. The look in her eyes told me that she had reached a decision. “I’m not a detective. But I am interested in knowing why anybody would want to kill such a lovely young woman as you’ve just described.”

Tootsie sobbed into her handkerchief. Hattie
breathed a sigh of relief. “Unfortunately, there are things in Otis that need exposing. For the past year, Brenda lived her life like she believed in more than professing to be a Christian. She believed in living a Christian life and seeing that others did the same thing.”

“Do you have any idea who hated Brenda enough to kill her?” Mama asked.

Hattie opened her purse. “The first person comes to mind is Clyde Hicks. Eleven months ago there were several robberies at the Wesmart. Brenda suspected Clyde was behind the thefts. When Kevin Sterling, the manager of the store, set a trap, Clyde was caught redhanded. He was prosecuted and sent to prison. For months, he wrote Brenda letters threatening to kill her.” She handed Mama several envelopes. “These are a few of his letters. Brenda left them with me.”

“I … I didn’t know,” poor Tootsie moaned. “Brenda never said a word to me about letters, or threats.”

“Clyde was released from prison ten days ago,” Hattie continued. “He’s back in town, and Brenda told me he’d been bothering her, threatening to cut out her tongue.”

“I didn’t know,” Tootsie moaned again. “I didn’t know.…”

“But there is somebody else who might have hurt Brenda,” Hattie went on. “Brenda called my office three days ago. She told me that Victor Powell had raped his stepdaughter, Stella Hope. I promised to
have the agency look into her allegations. Later that evening I got a call from Lurena Powell, Victor’s wife. She told me that Brenda had called her about what Victor was doing to her daughter. Lurena made it clear that nothing was going on between her husband and her daughter. She begged me to drop the whole thing because Victor was raging mad that our agency was going to investigate him.”

“And did you promise Lurena that you’d drop the whole thing?” Mama asked.