Arsenic and Old Books (12 page)

His response shocked me. I wasn't sure what I expected, but it surely wasn't that. I stared at Jasper Singletary and he gazed steadily back.

“Murderess?” I shook my head. “That's a terrible accusation to make. Who is she supposed to have murdered?”

“Three members of my family, all children,” he said, his tone grim. “Four, really, if you count the mother who died of a broken heart.”

“What members of your family? I don't know anything about your ancestors, so you're going to have to explain this to me.” I leaned back in my chair. I felt a paw on my shoulder. As usual, Diesel picked up on the fact that I wasn't my typical calm self. I rubbed his paw to reassure him while I kept my eyes focused on Jasper Singletary.

“Sure, but this will take a few minutes, so you'll have to bear with me,” he said. “This goes back obviously to Civil War days. My family owned a good-sized farm—we still own it, actually, even though it's a lot smaller now—that abuts the Long property, so the Singletarys and the Longs have been neighbors for over a century and a half.” He laughed bitterly. “Some neighbors
they
are. Anyway, my three times great-grandfather, also Jasper, married twice. He and his first wife had one son, my two times great-grandfather, Franklin. First wife died in 1855 when Franklin was about ten years old, and Jasper remarried less than a year later. He and the second wife had three children, little stair-steps. First one came along when Franklin was twelve, and the third one when he was fifteen.

“Is that all clear so far?” he asked. When I nodded, he continued. “Good. Well, Jasper had married late the first time, and he was already in his forties when Franklin was born. By the time the war came, Jasper was too old to fight. He had heart trouble of some kind, according to my great-aunt Caroline, my grandfather's sister, and that kept him at home even though other men his age ended up fighting.

“Jasper doted on all his children, particularly the little ones. Franklin was ready to enlist right after Mississippi seceded, but he was only sixteen. He also had the same heart trouble Jasper had, and Jasper refused to let him go.”

He paused, and I decided to interject a comment. “I'm sure that was frustrating for Franklin, seeing so many others his age going off to fight.” I shook my head. “Early on, they all thought it would be over in a couple of months, at the most.”

“It's a good thing Franklin didn't go.” Singletary smiled briefly. “Otherwise I wouldn't be here. I'm happy to say also, in case you were wondering, I didn't inherit the heart defect they both had.”

“I'm pleased to hear that,” I said. “You've set up the situation with your ancestors. How do the Longs fit into all this? Particularly Rachel?”

“About this time, right after the war got started, probably in June of 1861, Jasper had a serious bout of heart trouble. I figure he had a stroke or two, and that left him unable to do much work. They did have one hired hand, a distant cousin of Jasper's, but he was young enough and enlisted right away. Jasper didn't hold with slavery, so everything fell on Franklin, his stepmother, and the little ones.”

“Admirable, but certainly unusual in Athena at that time,” I said. “That must have been difficult for your family, not having help.”

“It was, and things got worse. Jasper didn't improve, and the family was having a hard time. He wouldn't ask anybody for help, although there were some cousins who did what they could. With the war on, things got harder for everybody. Jasper still couldn't work that fall, and Franklin didn't have the stamina to do all that he needed to do. Jasper's wife, Vidalia, decided to go to Rachel Long and ask her for help. Their clothes were in rags, they had barely any food, and Vidalia was desperate. Jasper was too proud to ask the high-and-mighty Longs for anything, so she went behind his back and did it for him.”

He sounded angry, but I didn't know whether it was with his namesake for his stubbornness or with Vidalia for going behind her husband's back. Pride could be a good thing, but not if it meant letting your wife and children starve to death.

“How did Rachel Long respond to Vidalia?” I asked. Given his charges against Rachel, I was prepared to hear that she turned her back on the Singletarys and let them all starve.

“Lady Bountiful went swanning over—my great-aunt's words, you understand—to dispense charity in the form of clothing and food so the pitiful Singletarys wouldn't be on her conscience. In the meantime, her father-in-law, Andrew Adalbert Long, Sr., decided this would be a good time to talk Jasper into selling him some land he'd had his eye on for the past twenty years.”

“Did Jasper sell?” I asked.

My visitor shook his head. “No, not then. He did later, but I'm getting ahead of the story. Jasper almost had another stroke when he found out Vidalia went begging, but she and Franklin didn't listen. They and the little ones needed the food, and the little ones needed warm clothing. So at first they thanked Rachel. After that initial visit, she didn't come again, but she did send her maid, a slave from her family's plantation in Louisiana, over a few times with more food.” He grimaced. “This is the part of the story I don't get, but my great-aunt said she had it straight from Franklin, her daddy, that Rachel Long's maid was a conjure woman.”

“A lot of people in those days believed in voodoo,” I said, “and they often associated it with Louisiana.”

Jasper nodded. “I know that, but I still find it hard to believe myself. The strange thing was, when the maid started visiting, the children and Vidalia all turned sickly. They weren't strong to begin with because of malnourishment, although the food from the Longs helped. The little ones all died within the space of a week.”

“Wasn't a doctor called? Couldn't anything be done for them?”

“The only good doctor in town had gone to serve as an army doctor,” Jasper said. “All they had left were a couple of midwives who knew about herbal medicines. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with the children.”

“You said the mother died of a broken heart. When did Vidalia succumb?” I asked.

“Several months later, in the winter. Jasper died the next spring, leaving Franklin on his own. In the meantime, while Jasper was out of his mind with grief over the little ones dying, Andrew Long came in and talked him into selling the land for far less than it was worth. Franklin was out in the fields when it happened, and Vidalia was on the verge of dying herself. Neither one of them knew what was going on.”

“In your great-aunt's mind, then, Andrew Long cheated her grandfather and father out of land.”

“That's about it,” Jasper said. “Aunt Caroline believed, like her daddy did, that Rachel Long had her maid poison the children to drive Jasper crazy. All so Andrew could get his hands on a hundred acres.”

What an appalling story,
I thought.
Could any of it be true?
I could believe that Rachel's father-in-law was an opportunist and decided to get what he wanted when Jasper was at a weak point. But to believe that Rachel, through her maid, poisoned those little children to help her father-in-law cheat Jasper Singletary? That sounded far-fetched, at best. The death rate for children—particularly for children who didn't have enough of the right food to eat—was high during that time. They probably died of natural causes.

“I know what you're thinking,” Jasper said. “Children died routinely back then. Starvation, acts of war, you name it; the civilian death rate skyrocketed while the war raged on. But the war hadn't yet reached Athena when these children died.”

“If I remember correctly, the Union Army finally came to Athena in November 1862,” I said.

“That's correct,” Jasper replied. “That was a year after the children died. And Vidalia. She lasted less than half a year after burying her babies.”

“One tragedy after another,” I said. That sounded weak to me, but I couldn't figure out what to say to the man about the sad deaths of his family members more than a hundred years ago.

“That's the luck of the Singletarys.” His tone held a bitter edge. “That's the way it's been ever since, but I'm aiming to change all that. I am going to win this election and prove that I have what it takes. Beck Long and his hallowed family name aren't going to stand in my way.”

Again, I didn't know quite how to respond to that. I hadn't decided yet on my choice in the election, and I didn't want to get into a discussion of it right now. I waited a moment to see whether he would continue. When he didn't, I said, “Given all you've told me, I would say you're hoping Rachel Long's diary will contain some proof of these allegations.”

“Yes,” Singletary replied. “There may be some clue in there to tell us what really happened.”

“If there is any kind of proof in the diaries that Rachel Long and her maid were responsible for those deaths, what will you do?”

The hopeful politician narrowed his eyes. “Blacken the Long name so that they finally pay for their sins.” He smiled broadly. “And put myself in office.”

I could read nothing but malice into Jasper Singletary's words. If it were indeed true that Rachel Long and her maid were somehow responsible for the deaths of Singletary's family members, I could understand his wanting to have the truth known.

The rancor he felt toward the Longs—that was harder to understand. Had the Singletarys made the Longs the scapegoats for every misfortune they suffered since the Civil War? For that to be true, I reckoned, the Longs would have to have been actively persecuting the Singletary clan for more than a hundred and fifty years.

Or had the bitterness of that one terrible winter eaten into the Singletary family's collective soul and kept the hatred alive all this time?

That sounded melodramatic, but bitterness corroded. I was curious to find out what other incidents could have kept the feud fresh one generation after another. Another talk with Miss Eulalie was in order, and I might consult the Ducote sisters as well. If those three ladies couldn't answer my questions, I doubted anyone could.

While I woolgathered, Jasper Singletary stared at me, his impatience obvious.

“I understand that you want to know the truth,” I said, “but have you considered the possibility that the diaries may contain no proof whatsoever that these allegations are valid?”

“Yes, I have thought about it,” Singletary replied. “If the proof I need isn't in the diaries, I'll keep looking. One way or another I will prove that the Long family harbored a murderer, no matter how long ago it was.”

“How dare you say such a thing.”

Neither Singletary nor I was aware that the mayor stood in the doorway. She had obviously heard the young man's words. Her eyes glinted with anger as she advanced into the room. To my surprise, she wasn't alone. The tall figure of her son loomed behind her.

Singletary got to his feet and regarded Mrs. Long coolly. “I dare say it, Your Honor, because according to my family, it's the truth. Only, the Long family has been able to cover it up all these years.” He shrugged. “Maybe now the truth will come to light.”

Beck Long stepped past his mother, who for once seemed at a loss for words. “Listen here, Singletary, I know you're desperate because your campaign is going nowhere. Unless you want to have your behind hauled off to jail for libel, you'd better stop spouting crap like that.”

Singletary laughed harshly. “Your family really did waste money by sending you to law school.”

Long's face reddened. He turned to his mother. “What is he talking about?”

Mrs. Long's expression was enigmatic as she regarded her son. “The events he's talking about must have taken place well over a century ago, so anyone he's accusing of the crime has been dead a long time. You can't libel the dead, so he can accuse Rachel Long or anyone else from her time of being a murderer.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Beck Long said. “Well, he's still trying to ruin our family name. That ought to count for something.”

Singletary turned to me. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Harris. I look forward to hearing from you.” He turned back to nod at the mayor and her son. “Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I have meetings to get to.” He strode out of the room.

All during the foregoing exchange, I could feel Diesel becoming more and more restless. The tension in the room had mounted steadily, ever since Singletary began telling me his story. Now, with this open hostility, he was not happy. He climbed down from the windowsill and crowded against my legs. I rubbed his head to try to reassure him. He began to relax.

The mayor came forward and sank wearily into the chair Singletary had vacated. Beck Long hovered over her.

“Mama, what are we going to do? We can't let him run around and start telling people those lies.”

“Find a chair and sit down,” Mrs. Long said in a sharp tone. “I will take care of it, like I always do.” She turned to me. “Mr. Harris, have you had a chance to read through the diary I brought you yesterday?”

Was I supposed to pretend the nasty scene hadn't happened? I couldn't help but admire the mayor's cool in the face of such unpleasantness. At the same time, I was not much impressed with her son.

“No, Your Honor, I haven't,” I said. “I was able, however, to scan all the pages to create a digital copy. My plan for today is to read through it.”

“You're not going to let anybody else have a copy of the file, are you?” Beck Long stared hard at me.

“If the family chooses to have the diary remain private for now, then no, I won't let anyone else have a copy of it,” I said. “Perhaps it might be better for me to return the diary to you, along with a copy of the scan, so that you can decide whether you want the contents known. Frankly, if I were to read it and find evidence to support Mr. Singletary's allegations, I would be in an awkward spot—and I prefer not to be.”

Beck Long started to speak, but his mother held up her hand. He closed his mouth and leaned back in his chair, his expression sulky.

“No, Mr. Harris, my husband decided to share these diaries, and we are not going to renege on that agreement now. I cannot believe you will find anything to substantiate that wild story Mr. Singletary has come up with. Frankly, the sooner the contents are public knowledge, the better. Singletary may be sorry he ever wanted to know what's in them. His family have been lazy, good-for-nothing whiners for generations.” Her face hardened. “I'm tired of them blaming the Longs for their troubles.”

Beck brightened during his mother's speech. By the time she finished he was grinning and nodding his head. “That's it, Mama,” he said. “We'll show those lousy Singletarys a thing or two.”

Thus far during the state senate campaign I had not heard any speech given by Beck Long. I had a feeling I hadn't missed anything significant, were I to judge by his remarks to his mother and Singletary. Could he really be as dim-witted as he sounded this morning?

The mayor ignored her son's comment. “How long do you think it will take you to read through it?”

I shrugged. “Barring unforeseen complications, I should think sometime today. When I examined the first volume the other day, I found the handwriting easy enough to decipher.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Long smiled as she rose. “Come along, Beck. We should let Mr. Harris get on with it. I'll discuss with you later, Mr. Harris, about getting a transcript made of the diaries.”

I stood to bid the Longs good-bye. Diesel climbed back onto the windowsill. He seemed not at all interested in either the mayor or her son. Perhaps he was still uneasy from all the tension, though it had rapidly dissipated.

Seated once more, I turned to the computer to retrieve the files I had made of the scans. The scanner was high resolution, so I anticipated little trouble reading the pages, as long as I had scanned them properly.

The mayor's confidence in the diary's contents impressed me. After I thought about it a moment, I decided she might have read at least this one volume before she brought it to me.

If her confidence were misplaced and I did find something damaging or incriminating, I would of course inform Mrs. Long. After that, what could I do?

I had no quick and easy answer to that question—particularly if the incriminating information somehow connected to the present-day murder of Marie Steverton. I would face that situation if it occurred.

In the meantime, I was more eager than ever to read, and I settled into my chair and started on the first page. One advantage of reading the pages from scans was the ability to increase the size. With the diary itself I'd have had to use a magnifying glass. In this case the computer made things much easier.

With the enlargement I found Rachel Long's handwriting not at all difficult to read. The fact that the pages were in such excellent condition helped as well. The ink seemed clearer from what I remembered of the other volumes.

Rachel had a chatty, informal style that reminded me a bit of Mary Chesnut's diary. There was a sense of immediacy, almost as if Rachel were recording things right as they happened, rather than afterward.

The first entry, dated March 9, 1861, was exactly two months after Mississippi seceded from the Union, the second state to do so. South Carolina went first, I remembered. Rachel wrote:

Mr. Lincoln became President five days ago, though of course he is not OUR president. That honor has fallen to Mr. Jefferson Davis, and we in Mississippi are proud that this fine man is from our state. I believe, and in this Mr. Long concurs with me, that Mr. Davis will prove himself worthy.

She went on to express the typical Southern bravado, that if war broke out it would indeed end quickly, thanks to the fine men of the South who could outfight their Northern counterparts easily.

In the early stages they believed it little more than a game, or so I had always thought. Johnny Reb would whip the North quickly, and the South would go on its merry way as a newly formed and separate nation. Five years—and hundreds of thousands of deaths and other casualties—later, the Union was stitched back together.

I read steadily for the next half hour, fascinated by Rachel's observations of daily life. The mood in the South remained euphoric, even after the incident at Fort Sumter in mid-April 1861.

In an entry dated May 26, 1861, Rachel noted news that the Union Army had crossed the Potomac and captured Alexandria, Virginia. Rachel expressed confidence that the city would soon be retaken by Confederate troops.

Two days later she made her first mention of the Singletary family.

Word has reached us that our wretched neighbor, Mr. Jasper Singletary, has once again fallen ill with his heart troubles. Though he is certainly the most quarrelsome and obstinate creature that Our Dear Lord ever placed upon this earth, I cannot wish him to suffer, for then his poor wife and children will have even less. I have upon occasion visited with Mrs. Vidalia Singletary, and she is a sweet but timid creature, and I fear that she is used most roughly by her husband. Mr. Singletary would no doubt suffer another fit of apoplexy were he to discover that I have sometimes taken food to give to his wife. I cannot bear the sight of those wretched little children with their bony knees and dirty faces.

I sat back and rubbed my eyes, already tired from gazing at the screen so intently for more than thirty minutes. This last entry certainly showed Rachel Long in a positive light. Her charitable interest in the Singletary children spoke well of her, and there was no indication thus far that she bore the least ill will toward the family.

Diesel saw me stretching, and he stretched as well. I got up from the chair and walked back and forth between the desk and the door a few times. The office phone rang while I was walking.

“Hello, Charlie,” Kanesha Berry said. “I have some news for you. I'm pretty sure I know who took those diaries from your office.”