The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose

“You better, Earle,” Mr. Tombull growled. “You hear me? You jes’ better do that.” He paused. “The other commissioners are gonna need to know about this. And what about the law? I’m thinkin’ we oughta get Sheriff Burns in on it from the start. That way, there ain’t no question.”


There was a long silence. “Well,” Mr. Scroggins said, “how ’bout you let me see what I can do first, Amos? We can always bring the sheriff in later, if’n it turns out we need the law.” He gave a meaningful cough. “Best thing ’ud be to handle it without the newspaper gettin’ wind of it, wouldn’t you say? Long as we can, anyway. Charlie has got a dickens of a nose for news, if you get my drift.”

Mr. Scroggins laughed as though that were funny, but Myra May noticed that Mr. Tombull didn’t laugh at all. Instead, he said, “I’m also thinkin’ you oughta mend a fence or two with Charlie Dickens, Earle. He’s not like his daddy. He’s a sharp son of a gun and he wants to run that paper like it was the Baltimore Sun.” His voice hardened. “There’s ways to make him back off. If you get my drift.”

And then on Saturday, Mr. Scroggins made two calls, the first one to Verna (which Violet overheard), telling her not to come in to work on Monday and to turn over her key. And the second one to Coretta Cole (which Myra May overheard), telling her that he wanted her to come back full time and manage the office. He said that he was putting Verna “on furlough” while they straightened out a few things.

“I’m gettin’ the locks changed on the office door, too,” he added. “I’m gonna give you a new key, Coretta. I want you to be the first one there every mornin’ to unlock and let the other girls in, and the last one to leave every night. And if you can find out which one of ’em has been talkin’ outta turn to Charlie Dickens over at the Dispatch, I’d be glad if you’d tell me. That may have gone down all right with DeYancy, but I won’t tolerate it. You got that?”

Coretta hadn’t bothered to ask the whys and wherefores. She wasn’t the kind who did. The less she knew, the better she liked it—which is how Myra May saw it, anyway.

And by that time, Myra May and Violet had put two and two together and had come to the logical conclusion: there was fifteen thousand dollars missing from the county treasury and their friend Verna Tidwell was under suspicion.

“Do you think Verna will actually be . . .” Violet hesitated, looked over her shoulder as if to make sure that nobody else could hear her, and mouthed the word arrested.

“It didn’t sound like Earle Scroggins was terribly anxious to get the sheriff in on this.” Frowning, Myra May forked a bit of sausage, ran it through the soft yolk of her fried egg, and dredged it in grits. “I wonder why. You’d think he’d go straight to the law with his suspicions and let the sheriff investigate, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yes.” Violet frowned. “And how can he be so sure that Verna is involved? Does he have some kind of evidence against her?”

“He doesn’t have any kind of evidence,” Myra May replied indignantly. “For one thing, Mr. Tombull couldn’t have the report from the auditor’s office yet. It was just mailed on Friday.” She put down her fork. “Anyway, you know there can’t be evidence against Verna, Violet. She’s as honest as the day is long. She’d never take anything that didn’t belong to her. Not one red cent.”

“I agree.” Violet pushed her plate away. “But somebody took that money, if the state auditor is right and it’s truly missing. And surely he wouldn’t make a mistake of that size.” Cupcake was fussing in her bassinet and she got up and went to pick up the baby.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” Myra May said in a hushed voice. “Almost more than I can imagine.”

“Me, too.” Violet sat back down with Cupcake on her lap and picked up a spoon. The baby smiled and waved her fists, anticipating breakfast. “But as I say, Myra May, somebody took that money. And since the auditor figured out that it was missing, there must be some evidence of some sort.” She splashed a little cream onto the grits, stirred it in, and spooned up a bit for Cupcake, who smacked her lips and cooed, then leaned forward for more.

“I suppose.” Myra May pulled her brows together. “So maybe there’s evidence. But it can’t point to Verna, because she didn’t have anything to do with it. And if Mr. Scroggins thinks she does, he’s crazy as a bedbug.”

Violet looked up. “Unless,” she said quietly, “somebody made it point to Verna.”

Myra May stared at her. “You don’t think—”

“I’m afraid I do,” Violet said. “In which case, it might be a good idea to let Verna know what we know. It sounds like the deck might be stacked against her. And somebody’s dealing off the bottom.”

Myra May considered this for a moment. “How about if I talk this over with Liz first,” she offered. “Liz has a good head on her shoulders, and she works in a law office. She might be able to—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence.