Миранда Джеймс - Six Cats A Slayin'

“Mrs. Norwood didn’t care much for Jack, she told me. Thought he was a pretty rough character. She wasn’t about to go up to him and ask him if Ronnie Halbert was really his little boy. He would have denied it, of course, but Mrs. Norwood has always believed that Ronnie Halbert was Jack Albritton’s little boy, Jerry.”

The name clinched it for me. She really had been Gerry Albritton all along, although somewhere along the way Jerry had become Geraldine—after being Ronnie Halbert for a number of years. Was this the key to her murder? I thought it had to be. Deirdre Thompson, in my mind, suddenly moved to the number one spot on the list of suspects.

“Tell me about Ronnie Halbert,” I said. “I don’t remember anybody by that name. He had to be around eight to ten years older than you and me.”

“Close to ten, I think,” Melba replied. “I remember seeing him around town. He always dressed nice and had his own car. Mr. Halbert spoiled him rotten. He and Mrs. Halbert couldn’t have any more kids, and he wanted a son more than anything. So Ronnie got anything he wanted. Ronnie was good-looking, and he had girls running after him all the time.”

“Sounds like he was on the wild side,” I said.

Melba nodded. “Yes, but he never got arrested for anything. Mr. Halbert paid people off, I always heard. One day, though, as the story goes, he had a big fight with Mr. Halbert. He ran off and never came back. People said he went into the army or the navy, but nobody knew for sure. Killed his daddy. Mr. Halbert grieved himself to death.”

“That’s a really sad story,” I said, and I meant it. So much unhappiness, and Gerry had been at the center of it, but not by choice.

“What I don’t get is what this has to do with the murder,” Melba said. “Unless Ronnie Halbert was dressing as a woman and going around and calling himself Geraldine, since he maybe used to be Jerry Albritton. He might have been ashamed to show his face around here as Ronnie Halbert again.”

Melba had hit close enough to the mark, and I thought it was all right to let her see it that way. Until the truth was made known, Melba could think Gerry was simply masquerading.

“I’ll bet Deirdre was fit to be tied when she figured out who Gerry really was, if that’s what happened,” Melba said. “They say Mr. Halbert left Ronnie a lot of money in his will, but since they never could find him, Deirdre finally got everything.”

Another strike against Deirdre. Given her miserly reputation, I had little doubt that she would not want to share what she had with anyone else. She might very well be willing to murder her adopted sibling, not only for the money but also to keep quiet about that sibling’s gender reassignment.

“We need to tell Kanesha this story right away,” I said. “I think this could be the link she needs to bring this case to a close.”

“So you believe Gerry Albritton was really Jerry Albritton and Ronnie Halbert?” Melba asked.

“I do.” I pulled out my phone to text Kanesha that I had vital new information for her.

Melba shook her head. “I wonder why he was pretending to be a woman. I might have recognized him as Ronnie Halbert, although it’s been at least forty years since he left Athena. I’d swear he had plastic surgery, though.”

“You had no idea that Billy Albritton actually did have a little brother named Jerry?” I asked as I tapped out a message.

“No, I’d never heard about him before today. I don’t think anyone in town knew,” Melba said, “though I could be wrong.”

“Billy Albritton must have known who he was,” I said as I hit the icon to send the message.

“I guess he did,” Melba said. “Do you think Billy killed him?”

I shrugged. “He could have. Would he have welcomed the return of a long-lost brother who was basically sold to another family?”

“No, I don’t think he would,” Melba said. “Especially since his daddy’s still alive. He’s close on a hundred years old. Lives in the nursing home where Mrs. Norwood is.”

My cell phone rang, and I saw from the caller ID that it was Kanesha.

She spoke immediately. “I’m across the street right now. I’ll be over in two minutes.” She ended the call.

Frowning, I put down the phone. “Kanesha says she’s across the street and will be here in two minutes.” I got up from the table. “I’m going to look out the front door and see what’s going on.”

“I’m coming with you,” Melba said. She and Diesel were right on my heels as I hurried to the front of the house.

I opened the door, and we looked out to see a couple of police cars, plus a county patrol car, pulled up in front of Gerry Albritton’s house. As we watched, one of the policemen came out of the house, accompanied by Billy Albritton. The officer led him to a patrol car and put him inside.

Kanesha came out of the house carrying a bag. She stopped to speak to the police officer before she came across the street toward us.

When she reached us, I asked her, “What’s going on?”

At the same time, Melba asked, “Are you arresting Billy?”

Kanesha said, “Let’s go inside, why don’t we?”

We obeyed her request, and when I had shut the door behind the deputy, she faced our inquisitive expressions and explained. “Yes, Mr. Albritton is being arrested for basically breaking in to the house. The police officer caught him trying to sneak out with this.” She brandished the bag, and I recognized it as an evidence bag.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

Kanesha pulled a tissue from her pocket and then carefully extracted the object with the tissue—to protect any fingerprints, I supposed.

She held an old notebook that appeared to be falling apart.

THIRTY-THREE

“That doesn’t look much like it could be worth risking arrest for,” I said as I led the way to the kitchen.

“It must be,” Kanesha said, “because he did risk it, and got caught.”

“What’s in it?” Melba asked.

“Let’s find out.” Kanesha turned to me. “Would you mind laying down a couple of clean paper towels for me to put this on?”

“Of course,” I said. As I was placing the paper towels on the table, Azalea returned to the kitchen.

Mother and daughter eyed each other. Kanesha spoke first.

“Hello, Mama, how are you?”

“Fine,” Azalea replied. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Kanesha said.

Melba and I exchanged glances. Watching these two women reminded me of two lionesses circling each other, one waiting for the other to make a false move. Kanesha had not softened her stance on her mother’s chosen employment, and Azalea had not given in on her right to work however she saw fit.

This standoff could go on for a while. I coughed, and Kanesha’s gaze shifted to me. “Can we see what’s in the notebook?” I asked.

I looked down at the ragged old thing, frayed around the edges. It was really more of a tablet, now that I got a better view of it.

“That looks like those tablets we used to take to school in first grade,” Melba said. “Remember them? And those big pencils we learned to write with?”

“That’s exactly what it is.” The red cover had faded badly, but if you peered at it closely enough, you could see the words Big Chief and the design of a Native American in a feather headdress on it.

Using the tissue, Kanesha drew back the cover, and we all bent to see the words written there. The first page was covered with one sentence, line after line: I am Jerry Albritton .

Kanesha flipped a page. The same thing: that one sentence written over and over in childish printing. She kept turning the pages. The writing began to change, the printed letters becoming more precise, more to scale. Eventually the print gave way to cursive writing. Every single page, however, contained nothing but that one sentence, line after line.