Chapter 7
However, about an hour before darkness fell, the skies unleashed a torrent of rain accompanied by wicked lightning. Anybody with any sense wouldn’t be out in such weather, Miss Georgia knew. She’d just have to forego her planned visit to the cemetery.
Next morning, though, nature smiled as if she’d never been guilty of disrupting anybody’s plans.
Miss Georgia puttered around the house, dusting furniture, sweeping the floor, feeling just generally out of sorts, for some reason. Maybe it was the fault of the moon. Could it be full tonight and exerting an extra pull on her nerves?
When she saw Grace Thomas, a woman from her Sunday school class, coming up the walk, her spirits lifted. This was just what she needed—a visit from a friend.
However, it appeared that something was affecting Grace’s nerves too. She fidgeted as she perched on a chair in Miss Georgia’s living room, sipping a glass of iced tea. When Elmira rubbed against her shin, she jumped and sloshed some of the liquid onto her napkin.
“So sorry, Georgia,” she muttered. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
Never one to beat around the bush, Miss Georgia got right to the point. “Forget about the tea, Grace. I have the feeling that you want to tell me something, but you’re hesitating. Am I right?”
Color rose to Grace’s cheeks. “I guess I’d might as well say it. Some of the ladies have mentioned that you’ve been going around town, asking first one then another if they know anything more about Thurston Cubbins’ murder or the bank robbery and, well, I guess, as your friend, I should tell you that it isn’t really becoming, Georgia. I mean, here you are, a teacher…”
“Retired teacher,” Miss Georgia interrupted.
“Yes. And, you seem to be involved in proving Monroe Williams’ innocence. It’s unseemly, Georgia, for a Christian woman, a spinster, no less, to be so interested in the welfare of a man like Monroe. I think that’s a job better left to the sheriff, don’t you?”
Miss Georgia’s voice was icy. “What do you mean, ‘a man like Monroe’?”
Grace cleared her throat. “He’s a widower or bachelor or something, and he has been gone so long from town, been through the war, and why did he leave Tennessee anyway? The sheriff is investigating and…and…so, there! I’ve spoke my piece.”
“Glad to hear it,” Miss Georgia said. “Even though you have my reputation and welfare in mind, I’d like to tell you that I’m old enough to decide what is and isn’t proper, Grace.”
“So, I don’t suppose you intend to stop investigating this sad crime?” Grace asked.
Miss Georgia smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m quite capable of making my own decisions, thank you.”
“In that case,” Grace said stiffly, “I’ll be on my way.”
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