Probably due to having arrested so many bootleggers, Sarah thought. After all, one occasionally needed to test the evidence, just to make sure. Near his chair, a dull brass spittoon awaited the detritus of the weed-like substance he dug out of a burlap pouch.
“The day before his body was discovered.”
“Under what circumstances?”
“We had been working on a project together.”
“What sort of project?”
Lena took a deep breath and exhaled. “A paper.”
“‘Bout what?”
“About the direction the teaching of literature should take.”
He rubbed his nearly non-existent chin. “How do y’all teach literature, anyway? Don’t you just read it?”
Lena tried to smile. “That’s an important first step, of course.”
Having finished the tea, Officer Perry now placed a wad of tobacco deep in his cheek, and then pressed the cold glass against his forehead. That gave his partner an opportunity to break in. Mild-mannered and well spoken, he had no detectable accent. “Tell me, ma’am. Do you know any reason why the professor might have been killed? Anyone who’d want to do him harm?”
Lena shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
Sarah took Lena’s hand. It was cold and clammy. The notes, she thought. She hadn’t stopped thinking about them, but for some reason hadn’t told her cousin. Why? She had started to, and then . . .
“Do you, ma’am?” He was staring at Sarah. He had been watching her.
“Of course she doesn’t,” Lena said, shaking her hand free. “My cousin’s just here for a visit. She arrived the day after Nick was found.”
He kept his gazed fixed on Sarah. “Ma’am?”
“No, no I don’t,” Sarah said slowly. “Lena’s right . . . except . . .”
Officer Perry leaned to the side, politely covered his mouth, and spit. A direct hit.
“Except?”
Lena turned toward her abruptly. “Except? Except what?” she asked, her face scrunched like an overly tight frock.
“Well, it’s probably not important,” Sarah said. “Obviously, my cousin doesn’t know about this.” Sarah shifted her gaze from Lena to the officers. “But the other day, when I was going through the professor’s papers for her . . . for you, Lena . . . I came across something . . . some information. I don’t know. It might be of some use.”
Lena now just stared at her blankly.
“I don’t know why I didn’t mention it to you earlier,” she said, taking Lena’s hand again. “I really don’t.”
“What is the nature of this information, ma’am?” Officer Briggs asked, keeping his small, blue eyes on Sarah.
“Um, some notes.”
“Notes? What kind of notes?”
“Oh, an appointment, a list. They’re hard to explain, really.”
“Where are they?”
“At the school, in the folder I set aside for you, Lena,” Sarah said, as if her cousin had asked the question.
“Well, then,” Officer Perry said. “What are y’all waiting for? Let’s go.”
All eyes were on Lena now.
“By all means. Let’s all go,” she said, suddenly standing up. “Let’s go right now!” She then folded her arms, pressed them immovably on her chest, and marched toward the door.
•••
Lena had every right to be annoyed with her. Sarah shouldn’t have allowed her to be taken off guard like that. After all, her cousin was just beginning to establish herself here. Of course, she would have encountered those notes at some point anyway, probably quite soon. But why did Sarah wait to tell her, embarrassing her like that in front of the police? She couldn’t form a clear answer. She had reacted to some instinct, but what? She was confused by her own action.
Fortunately, the officers didn’t seem to notice. They were rather nice fellows actually, and treated both women with respect. At one point, Officer Perry even said he hoped his granddaughter would grow up as smart as “you two gals. Yep,” he added, nodding, “the town would be a whole lot classier if there were more of you Hebrew folk around.” Surprising to say the least, considering what she’d encountered thus far, not to mention the questionable reputation of law enforcement in the South. Was it a trick? She didn’t think so. Was it their much-touted chivalry, that sugary patina of practiced courtesy? Perhaps. But if that were the case, then Sarah didn’t mind, and she knew more than a few Ohioans who might benefit by a course in the subject themselves.
They continued in this manner, too, when it came time to question Lena about the contents of the note. According her the deference her position warranted, Officer Briggs handed her the paper, folded his feminine-looking hands and said: “You understand this stuff better than we ever could, ma’am. What do you think these references might mean? Mencken equals natural selection? All men are created unequal?”
Lena was non-committal. Her eyes panned back and forth, reading through the notes Sarah directed them to again and again, as if suddenly the next time it would all make sense. But as she read and no explanation came, the color slowly drained from her cheeks and her usually animated, slightly mischievous expression settled into fixed confusion. She struck Sarah as an alabaster figure carved by an exceptionally ambivalent sculptor. “Well, I don’t know,” Lena said. “It could mean nothing, of course. It could mean . . . well, like my cousin, here, said, it could be notes for a story. I don’t know.”
“Uh huh. Well, now, what else might it be, ma’am?”
Lena shrugged.
“You know,” Officer Perry said, “I’m no scholar, but at face value these views seem a bit extreme for an educated type.”
Lena nodded in agreement. “At face value, yes.”
“And you, Miss Kaufman, is that perhaps what you thought when you saw them?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Well then, we’ll do some investigatin’ and let you know.” He turned to Lena. “Ma’am, in the meantime, if you think of anything, you know where to reach us.” He tipped his dark blue cap, motioned to his partner, and the two walked off, leaving Sarah the awkward task of apologizing for something for which she didn’t have an explanation.
7
That was on July first. By the fourth, they had not heard again from the officers. Just as well. Though still as perplexed by Sarah’s behavior as Sarah was herself, Lena had forgiven her. Certainly the matter of clearing up the professor’s notes, and his death, wasn’t over. Perhaps the worst was yet to come. But they made a pact. Today, they wouldn’t speak of it. Today, they would act as if nothing had happened and join in the celebration of the country’s independence.
Most of the town seemed to have the same idea. Yesterday, murder was the only thing on people’s minds, the only thing that could make them forget that it was the hottest summer in years. Today, the focus had shifted. The calendar dictated that it should, that the cares of the world temporarily should be suspended. Already Sarah could hear the happy shrieks of children playing outside. Chicken was being seasoned, corn shucked, watermelon sliced. And Nan herself was busy making pies, the holiday smell of baked apples and cinnamon drawing all of the boarders out of their rooms earlier than usual. A different kind of excitement had taken over, just as palpable as when the coroner’s news was announced, but gentler, far more benevolent. Even nature cooperated, dropping the temperature a precious few degrees.
After a