One Small Secret

“Do you think he has any kids for me to play with?”

Honor felt a stabbing in her chest. “Maybe,” she said in a small voice. “I guess we won’t know for sure until he gets here.”

“What’s the man’s name, Mommy?”

“Does it really matter? We may never even see him. He has a dozen houses. He may come for the night and decide Blackbird Hall bores him.”

“But what’s his name?”

“If...if I recall, his name is Mark Gnffin.”

“Griffin.” Lockey stared down the road from where they stood on the front veranda. “Griffin,” she repeated.

Honor died a little bit mside.

Pulling herself together, she said, “Hey, let’s go to a movie. C‘mon. It’s Saturday. Vergie can watch out for the guests. All-these workmen are getting on my nerves.”

“Griffin. That’s the name those guys were talking about.”

“Those guys?”

“You know. The two guys in the attic. They kind of scare me, Mommy. They talk bad.”

“What were they talking about?” Honor tried to keep her voice even, but it was difficult. She hadn’t been able to hide her distaste when Metz and Keliher had arrived back at the house late last night, the strange black duffel bag still in tow. Now it seemed Lockey had had an encounter with them and formed the same aversion to them.

“I was on the stairs this morning with my dolls, and I heard them talking. Their door was a little bit open, but I think they thought it was closed, because they talked so loud.”

“So you heard them?”

“Yes.”

“You remember all our talks about eavesdropping—”

“I didn’t, Mommy, I promise! I was just sitting on the stairs!”

Honor took both her daughter’s hands in hers. “I know you understand, Lockey. That’s why I’m not mad. I want you to know this is a special case. Tell me what these men said. And why they scared you.”

“They said a lot of curse words, and they talked about how Mr. Griffin was a really rich guy with a lot of treasure in his house. They were watching the house from the attic window, and they said they were going to take Mr Griffin’s stuff, even though that’s not why their boss sent them here.”

Honor could hardly breathe. “Are you sure, honey?”

Lockey met her gaze and nodded resolutely. “I’m sure.”

Without pause, Honor went inside, grabbed her purse and headed for the car, all the while holding Lockey’s hand firmly in her own. She started the car, eased between the two buses and headed for the police station.

“But, Doug, you’ve heard what Lockey said. These guys must be crimmals. They’re going to ransack the Hall.” Honor stared at the police chief from across his desk.

“I hear you girl. I hear you. And I can go and question them, but all that’s going to do is tip them off. And if there hasn’t been a crime committed... well, not much more I can do ‘cept keep my eye on ’em.”

Doug leaned back in his oak swivel chair. He looked at Lockey and gave the child a big grin. “Lockey, darling, why don’t you go see if Acomb is at the front desk. I bet he’d find a nice snack for you. You appear to me to be a mite hungry.”

Lockey looked at her mother.

Honor nodded her consent.

When the girl was gone, Doug leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, his face lined with concern. “Tell you what, we’ll come and watch the Retreat. You head home and tell those two when you see ‘em that something’s wrong with their rooms and they’ll have to find other ‘comodations. I don’t like you girls staying out there alone with a couple of hoodlums.” He leaned back in his chair once more.

“When they pack up and leave your place, I’ll take them to the station here and question them, check out their identification. That’s the best I can do until something’s been done wrong.”

Honor wondered if her blood pressure would ever be the same. “You’ll have a car outside while I tell them?”

“Yes, ma‘am. I’ll go with Acomb myself.”

“I’ll drop Lockey off with a friend first. Just in case there’s anything ugly. May I use your phone?”

Doug shoved it to her side of the desk. “I don’t think there’ll be any trouble. The child could just be imagining things. Or these guys might really know Griffin and want to rob the house, but until they do, there’s no crime, and hell, they might just move on once they know we got an eye on ‘em.”

Honor nodded, but still the sick feeling wouldn’t leave her stomach.

“Doug, Lockey did get Mr. Griffin’s name right. I don’t think she’s making up stories. And...and... well, I can’t help but think someone should warn Mr. Griffin that someone wants to rob him and Blackbird Hall.”

“Hell the guy ain’t even there yet.” He grunted. “But hey, I’ll go talk to the workmen, see if they can get a message to him.”

“Thanks,” she said as she dialed, relieved that she wouldn’t have to warn her neighbor of the would-be thieves. After all, if she and Mark met during his stay in Natchez, they were going to have enough to talk about.

“Vergie says they already checked out. They’re gone,” Honor said to Doug as she stood in the Retreat’s drive. The traffic on the dead-end road had diminished to one solitary van, and even those workmen were packing it up.

“I sent Acomb to talk to someone at the Hall. I don’t think Griffin’s arrived yet, but we’ll get the word to him eventually.” Doug sat in his squad car, putting down notes on his clipboard.

Honor sighed. “I wonder if maybe Lockey tipped them off somehow.”

Doug patted her arm. “Sometimes crooks just chicken out, darlin‘. If they’re gone, then I say good riddance. Go get your little girl back and have a peaceful night’s sleep.”

Sergeant Acomb, tall and gangly, walked up from the road after talking to the workmen. He nodded to the sheriff and slid into the passenger seat of the car.

“We’ve done all we could. You want me to send Acomb, here, over for night patrol? Don’t mind, if that’d set your mind at ease.” Doug looked at her questioningly.

Honor shrugged. Everything seemed like a nonevent now. Just an hour ago her life appeared to be careening back into Mark Griffin’s. Now, when Mark was finally going to arrive at the Hall, there would be no reason for them to see each other. Because she sure as hell wouldn’t seek him out. She’d tried for that whole first year to reach him in the corporate maze of Griffin Industries, but no matter how many phone calls she’d made to Zurich, no matter how many letters she’d sent, he’d never called back, never gotten in touch with her. By now he probably didn’t even remember her.

A strange knot of tears formed in her throat.

Quickly she said to Doug, “No, you guys go home to your families. This is over with. Thank heavens.” She waved them on, then disappeared into the house to get her car keys, so she could go pick up Lockey.

“G‘night, Mommy.”

“Good night, love,” Honor said, tucking Lockey into her bed.

“I’m glad those guys left.” Lockey peeked at her from beneath the pile of homemade quilts that had been sewn by Shaw women throughout the years.