A Further Development

Chapter 5

Miss Georgia banged her hoe into her flower bed, causing a startled toad to hop out of the way. Gardening was an excellent release of too much adrenalin or worry or whatever ailed a person. And, after a morning of visiting four different shops in town and talking with Smudge Littleton at the bank, she felt that she needed to release her frustration. Chopping away at some defenseless weeds was better than banging some heads together, which was truly what she felt like doing.

     Nobody she had talked to today sounded really convinced that Roe Williams should be above suspicion in the death of Thurston Cubbins. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they remember the kind of person Monroe was before he ran away to join the army? And then, for Pete’s sake, he had studied for the ministry. And yet, the general consensus was that Roe had been the last one to see Thurston Cubbins alive and, hadn’t the sheriff actually interviewed him?

     Miss Georgia paused to wipe perspiration from her forehead and saw Abigail coming through the front gate.

     “I saw you over here working like a young person,” Abigail said. “I thought to myself, Why don’t I go over and sit for a spell on Georgia’s front porch with her? I wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack.”

     Miss Georgia took a deep breath and led the way to her shady porch swing. Abigail was right. She had been attacking the weeds and grass like they were her personal enemies.

     “Oh, Abby, I’m just so aggravated with our neighbors,” she said, pushing the swing with her toe. “And, I’m mad as an old wet hen too, because I haven’t been able to turn up any suspicious alibis and nobody that I talked to looked particularly guilty; at least, not guilty of something as bad as murder.”

     “I know,” Abigail said. “I’ve been poking around too, and I went over to Roe’s house to see if I could offer some consolation. He’s taking this dreadfully hard, you know. Seems disappointed that Lathe would even think for one minute that he might have shot Thurston Cubbins.”

     “We’ve just got to find out who really did this, Abby,” Miss Georgia said. “I even asked Smudge Littleton if I could just take a peek in Thurston’s office, and he wouldn’t allow it. Called it a crime scene and said Lathe had made him promise to keep it locked.”

     “I can understand that,” Abigail said. “I’m afraid, though, that this whole thing is really bearing on Roe’s mind. His house overlooks the cemetery, you know, and I think he may be imagining things– said he’s been seeing some strange lights over there at night.”

     Miss Georgia’s ears pricked up. “Strange lights? What kind of lights?”

     “Goodness, Georgia, don’t you think lights of any kind in the graveyard at night would be strange? I mean, who would be prowling around over there after dark? And, why?”

     Miss Georgia scrunched up her eyes as she thought about it. “Good questions, Abby. Shouldn’t be anybody prowling around. I hope it’s not vandals.”

     Abigail shuddered. “Or ghosts.”