Lillian and I had given Kyla a half-hour head start. She was dropping by Jane’s house and the two of them were going to Gadsden to see a movie at the Gadsden Mall’s Pitman Theater.
I was proud of my sister. Unknown to me, she had been grooming a relationship with Jane. That’s why she had agreed to help her last night feed the Fusion youth group at First Baptist Church of Christ.
With my permission, Kyla had read and reread Rachel’s ‘wall’ diary. Until an hour ago, I was unaware she’d also read The Cost of Discipleship. Well, at least the penciled notes. I still felt guilty for holding on to a book that was so important to my mother-in-law. I’d flipped through it shortly after removing it from inside the Hunt House wall and concluded the hand-written notes were a mix of Rosa’s and Rachel’s. The one’s I’d read were comments on Bonhoeffer’s Christology. Since I no longer believed in God, my interest was non-existent.
However, Kyla was smarter and more adept at recognizing patterns than me. Her near-photographic brain was a resource I had always envied. It, and my curiosity, had triggered the idea of Lillian and me paying a visit to Jane’s house while she and Kyla were at the movies.
Besides a general feeling that Jane was pro-Ray Archer, two objects had motivated Kyla’s encouragement. One was a timing issue. The other was a coded note. The first one was more embarrassing.
Given my focus on the ‘wall’ diary’s shocking details about Kyle’s extortion attempts, his brutal murder, and Rachel’s surviving pregnancy, I’d overlooked an obvious issue: the writings covered the same period as the LONDON diary I’d found in our New Haven basement.
Kyla had been more observant. Before reading the ‘wall’ diary, I’d shared memories from the LONDON diary, including its time frame. Sis had instantly asked two opposing questions: 1) why had Rachel written two diaries covering the same six-month period? and 2) what if someone else had written the ‘wall’ diary? Naturally, I’d responded to 2) with, “only Rachel could have hidden The Cost of Discipleship inside the Hunt House wall.” In some ways, I was as quick as Kyla, but my reaction speed often revealed confusion. Sis got a laugh out of my illogic, offering several other possibilities for how Bonhoeffer’s book could have gotten inside the wall.
I could still kick myself for not bringing Rachel’s basement diaries with me to Alabama. Of course, they were now gone forever, given the New Haven burglary. I, like Kyla, was also questioning the credibility of the diary, now in the hands of Marshall County’s District Attorney.
Another object had caught Kyla’s attention. Scribbled inside The Cost of Discipleship, on page 118 and buried among Rosa and Rachel’s reactions to Bonhoeffer’s thoughts, was “38 to friend.” Kyla believed this referenced the murder weapon and the fact Rachel had given it to a friend.
Ultimately, I’d agreed with my brilliant sister, although I had vehemently argued we didn’t know what to believe, which of the two diaries held the truth. Nor did we think Rachel was referring to a pistol in her coded message inside the book. Come to think of it, we didn’t have clear evidence of who had written it, Rosa or Rachel. Their writing was eerily similar.
Regardless of my confusion (and possibly Kyla’s still-developing pattern), Lillian and I set sail for 282 King Street, our third break-in since forming our detective partnership.
***
It was the second time Lillian asked to drive the Hyundai. The first was early afternoon when the two of us had gone to Walmart for Kyla. “I don’t know why you’d ever get rid of the Aviator.” I’d already made a mental note to investigate a used one when I returned to New Haven. It was by far the most comfortable vehicle I’d ever driven, not to mention its luxuriousness.
Lillian paused halfway to Kyla’s mailbox to change her mirrors. “What’s your theory on Rachel’s diaries, the two with the same dates?”
“Hypothesis.”
“Uh?” Lillian turned right onto McVille Road. Sometimes I was too exacting.
“Never mind. Your guess is probably as good as mine, but I think it’s connected to the pistol.” The time on the dash was 6:35. Kyla should have sent a text by now if there was a problem. It was her first opportunity to go inside Jane’s and determine whether she had a security system. No text by 6:45 meant mine and Lillian’s visit was a go. I’d opted for the opposite: a text saying it was a go, but I’d let strong-willed sister win the argument.
“You’re saying that since it wasn’t the murder weapon, the diary likewise was a fake?” I stole a sideways view of Lillian as she asked her question and couldn’t help but inspect her cashmere sweater and tight jeans. I chose against asking her if she knew someone made her sweater from a goat.
I too-quickly responded. “That may be a shallow argument.” She glanced at me with raised eyebrows. “I mean, you stated what I’m thinking, but I could be wrong. One side of me wants to believe Rachel in the wall diary is being more detailed and open, certainly pointing the finger at Ray. My other side believes she was undecided, that she was torn over whether to reveal Ray’s crime.” The more I talked about the two 1969 diaries, the more confused I became.
“Whoa, I better slow down. I love this car. It sure didn’t feel like I was going seventy.”
“What’s your thoughts?” Lillian was smart and perceptive. More so than I’d believed when we were kids.
“Let me start with an assumption, I mean, one that Rachel had.”
“What’s that?”
“No one would find her basement diaries. To me, this gave her permission to disclose the Hunt House hiding place?”
“I see your point. Obviously, she was wrong.”
“About?”
“I found her diaries. Which, come to think of it, makes me think she wanted me to find them.”
Lillian turned left onto Highway 431. “What if, and you might not like this, what if Rachel was lying?” Wow, that felt like a drill bit piercing my ear. The words repulsed me.
“No way.” I said, recalling the sick feeling I’d already experienced over the fake pistol, and possibly Rachel’s abortion.
Again, Lillian glared at me. This time not raising her eyebrows but silently breathing a big ‘whoa.’ “Lee, I’m sorry this is so personal, but we promised to be open, even brutal, when dealing with the truth.” Lillian returned her gaze to the highway and laid a hand on my knee. “Baby, dear, Rachel took her life. She was troubled. And I doubt her story about Kyle’s death is all fiction.”
Lillian and I stayed silent as we passed Piggly Wiggly and Old Mill Park. She spoke when she stopped the Hyundai before crossing the railroad track. “Do you remember our first date?” I turned and looked at her, but she was looking south, toward First State Bank, like she was making sure a train wasn’t approaching.
I did not know why Lillian would ask, but I didn’t have any trouble recalling the tenth grade Valentine’s Dance, one of the most embarrassing scenes of my life. “How could I forget? Horrible.” My words didn’t match my intent.
“Uh? So it was that bad?” We continued to sit at the railroad tracks. Now Lillian was looking north. Past what I felt was my reddening face.
“No. I meant my dancing, in public. My homebound experiences didn’t translate well inside the school lunchroom.” I paused, wondering whether I should be completely open. Oh, why not. “Other than most everyone laughing at me, it was a wonderful night.”
“That’s better, old boy.” She started laughing as she eased forward across the less than smooth tracks. “Just so you know, I wanted to go steady with you before Ray spiked the punch bowl.”
Even though there wasn’t a red light, I looked both ways when we crossed Main Street. As usual, the downtown was dead. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment or simply a revelation of how tipsy you got.”
“Don’t you dare go there.” Before I could respond, Lillian asked me another question. “Do you think Ray spiked the punch?”
“Maybe. Probably. What makes you ask?” We passed Marshall-Dekalb Electric Coop. The remodeled office was impressive.
“To drown his sorrows, I guess.”
“Uh?”
“You must have forgotten. But let’s see. Who was Ray’s date that night?” I hoped the Boaz cops weren’t out. Lillian had a heavy foot.
Again, it was a crazy question. I guess she was killing time by making small talk. “You. In your dreams.”
“Oh, that hurts. Absolutely not. You still don’t know how much I liked you.”
“It’s getting deep in here. Don’t miss your turn.” We were approaching King Street and Lillian was still speeding up.
“Whoa Nellie.” The Hyundai’s brakes worked, and the tires squealed. I don’t know how she made the turn. “Jane Fordham.”
“Now I remember. No wonder Ray was downing so much punch.” I hadn’t thought in half a century about the weirdness of seeing Ray walk into the high school lunchroom with Jane on his arm.
“Talk about a mismatch. As far as I know, this was the only date Jane ever had.” Lillian fiddled with the air conditioner and fan when she slowed at Snellgrove Avenue. I guess her goat sweater, or something, was causing a hot flash.
“I see your point. Jane, like me, was born with brains and not beauty.”
“Funny. You’ve always been the most handsome geek in the world.”
“Here’s a thought. Maybe Ray was desperate for, well, you know.” I figured Ray would hump a pig if that was all he could get. The mental image was repulsive.
“According to Jane, that’s exactly what he wanted, but she had the self-control to make him wait.” I couldn’t tell if Lillian was speculating or revealing facts.
“What does that mean?” We crossed Short Creek Bridge and Jackie Frasier’s dilapidated mobile home came into view. A single naked bulb cast light above the newly constructed front porch.
“The next week after Fusion, I asked Jane how her date with Ray had gone. She pulled me aside and said something like, ‘I’m in love.’ What she said next brought clarity. She said it had been Rachel’s idea.”
I interrupted. “For Ray to take Jane to the Valentine’s Dance.” I stated without asking.
“Yep. Looking back, here’s what’s weird. Jane also said, ‘Ray didn’t have a choice but to take me to the dance, but now he does. I’ll keep him waiting.’”
We were almost to Pleasant Hill Road and Jane’s house. “I’m lost. Maybe I don’t have brains after all. What did Jane mean?”
“Given Jane’s look, double eye raise, I took her ‘wait’ statement to mean sexual. What I don’t know is how Rachel could make Ray take Jane to the dance. Of course, you know, that was a month and a half after Rachel left for China.”
“Park under that Weeping Willow tree at the side of the garage. It’ll hide the car.” Lillian did as instructed. We exited the Hyundai and walked to the back deck. I hoped Kyla had been right about Jane not having a security system.
The Pencil Driven Life 