Then Crow went into the garage and came back out with a wheelbarrow. Queenie tipped it forward as he rolled the body onto it. Then they disappeared around the corner, pushing the wheelbarrow up the alley toward the front of the house.
Fannie went across the hall into the spare bedroom that overlooked the front yard. Queenie had turned out all the lights in the house. There was no moon, and the front yard was so dark she had trouble seeing below. Even on a clear night, it was hard to see down into the yard, much of it obscured by the oak tree and the thick bamboo that lined the alley on the side of the house.
Fannie was peering into the shadows when Crow emerged, pushing the wheelbarrow, as Queenie walked beside him, carrying a shovel. They stopped beside a large hollow in the oak tree where the boys used to play castle when they were young, the massive size of the trunk obscuring their hideout from the street. Queenie handed Crow the shovel, and he began to dig. He must have shoveled dirt away from the roots of the tree for a good half hour. When he seemed satisfied, he pushed the wheelbarrow closer and tipped it into the hollow. The body tumbled into the ground. Queenie pulled the wheelbarrow away as Crow shoveled dirt back around the base of the tree. When he finished, Queenie jumped up and down on the ground, making sure the dirt was packed in. She nodded to Crow as she rubbed her hands together, and then they disappeared down the alley.
A little while later, Queenie came back upstairs to Fannie’s bed. “Let’s get you a nice bath, get you out of them clothes.”
Fannie slipped off her dress and handed it to Queenie. There was blood on her slip.
Queenie shook her head. “Why Muddy done that to you?”
Fannie closed her eyes. She’d been trying not to think about that part.
“Don’t you worry no more about Muddy,” Queenie said. “You hear me? We done took care of it.”
The next day, Queenie scrubbed and scrubbed the floor in the bedroom trying to get rid of the stain on the floor. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t get rid of it. The blood had embedded itself into the grain of the wood.
“What are we going to do?” Fannie asked. “Norwood should be back by dinnertime. He’ll notice that stain.”
“We gone cover it up. I’ll fetch the Oriental rug from the library downstairs and bring it up here.”
“Won’t he wonder why we’ve done that?” Fannie asked.
“I never knew a man that paid no mind to decorating, lessen it’s something that gets in his way,” Queenie said.
That evening Queenie prepared Norwood’s favorite dinner, and Fannie did her best to act as if nothing had happened. Norwood appeared at the front door around six looking tan and fit from all the time he’d spent on the river. Fannie greeted him with a big kiss on the mouth.
“Been gone a week, and you act like I been gone a year,” he said.
“Just missed you, that’s all.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house.
“Crow plant some new flowers around the base of that old oak?” Norwood nodded toward the front yard. “Never known him to do that before. Looks nice.”
Fannie steered his attention away from the tree. “Queenie made your favorite dinner, crawfish étouffée and stuffed mirliton. It’s on the table waiting.”
Queenie came down the hall to greet Norwood. “Welcome home, Mr. Norwood.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Thank you, Queenie. Something going on?”
“What you mean, Mr. Norwood?” she said, following him into the dining room.
“You all fussing over me like I been away at the war or something,” he said as he took a seat at the table.
Fannie sat across from him. “Queenie, bring Norwood a tall glass so he can pour himself a drink.”
Norwood picked up the whiskey bottle and looked at the label. “Mount Vernon? You know that’s my favorite. What’s the occasion? You pregnant again?”
Fannie felt the blood drain from her face. “No, of course not. Why would you say something like that?”
“My favorite dinner? The whiskey? You’ve never acted this way when I’ve come back from the river before.”
Fannie shrugged. “Just missed you, that’s all, darling.”
After dinner, Norwood retired to the library, where he liked to read the newspaper and have a few drinks before bedtime. Fannie remained at the dinner table smoking a cigarette and reading a LIFE magazine as Queenie cleared the plates.
“Fannie, where’s the carpet that used to be in here?” Norwood called out from the library.
Queenie and Fannie exchanged sharp glances before Norwood appeared in the dining room.
“Why, Mr. Norwood, I moved it up to your bedroom,” Queenie said. “Fannie always say that bare floor up there was hard on her feet.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged and went back to the library.
“I thought you said he wouldn’t notice,” Fannie said in a hushed voice.
A little while later Norwood yelled from upstairs. “Fannie, would you come here a moment?”
She looked at Queenie, her eyes wide with fear.