Death's Half Acre

CHAPTER 24

The preacher rushes

into his sermon, suffering

happiness in the tears

that drop

in his understanding

of our miserable lot.

—Middle Creek Poems, by Shelby Stephenson

In the register of deeds office, the clerk smiled and handed over the receipt for the fees the office charged to register new deeds. “Good thing for y’all that there’s no transfer tax in Colleton County yet.”

The two men smiled and thanked her for her help.

Outside they shook hands.

“I can rest easy now,” Kezzie Knott said, hefting the small carrying case in his hands. “Can’t nobody ever dig up that man’s body now and I know you’ll use this for the good of the Lord.”

To Faison McKinney’s dismay, the old man opened the case right there on the sidewalk for all the curious world to see had the world been looking. April sunlight gleamed and flashed on the tangle of bright metal and faceted gemstones within.

“Since these here earrings ain’t worth all that much, I reckon you won’t mind if I keep ’em for a souvenir,” he said and drew out the glittering pair that he had given McKinney to prove that his story was as genuine as those diamonds.

McKinney bit back his protest. No point being greedy. Not when he was getting a pile of gems worth five or six million in exchange for land and goods worth half that. “Not a bit, Brother Kezzie.”

“I surely do thank you for all your help, Preacher. And you don’t have to worry ’bout me ever saying a word of this to anybody.”

“Same here, Brother Kezzie. When we do the Lord’s work, we don’t need to tell the devil.”

As they parted, each man to his own vehicle, Kezzie wondered what he was going to do with that failing used-car dealership.

He wished there were a way to see McKinney’s face when his jeweler friend told him that the bag contained only costume jewelry. Good-quality costume jewelry, but worth no more than five or six hundred dollars for the whole bag.

Well, a man can’t have everything, he told himself philosophically, and drove to the outlet mall, where a black Lincoln with tinted windows sat all alone at the far end of the parking lot. He stopped beside the car and waited till the man in the backseat joined him in the truck’s cab.

“Everything go okay?”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” he said. “Just got to know what bait to use.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the diamond earrings. “And them here was better’n red wigglers or crickets. You want that used-car place? It ain’t worth much and I got no use for it.”

G. Hooks Talbert gave a sour laugh of grudging admiration. “Damn! You got that, too?”

“Yeah. I figured as long as we was scraping him clean, might as well.”

“Do what you like with it. I don’t want my name on anything connected to this.”

As Kezzie drove back through town, sirens seemed to be coming from every direction. The cars ahead were pulling over to the curb and he did the same. Two fire trucks and an ambulance went flying past and in his rearview mirror he saw several police cars weave in and out around them, all headed in the same direction.