Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

other minions, a boy of about ten, who appeared at her elbow. “You’ve been getting a bunch of callers, I hear,” she observed.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Day assured her. “I can’t remember when we had so much food in the house.” She led them into the parlor. The room had been cleaned and the beds removed, and Harley had been decently laid out in a plain pine box perched on two sawhorses in the middle of the floor. Alafair stepped up to the coffin and examined Harley’s body, lying so inoffensively boxed. Well, Harley, she thought, look at you now. In all your pathetic life, somebody must have loved you sometime. “He looks right peaceful,” she said.
    “Don’t he, though,” Mrs. Day agreed. “Come on into the kitchen for some tea and cake, won’t you? I’d like for you to meet some of our kin that’s come to visit with us.”
    When they entered the kitchen, a tall, leathery man with graying hair stood up from a chair at the table. His companion, a pretty, black-haired woman, remained seated, but gave them a sweet smile. She had the most striking blue-green eyes Alafair had ever seen.
    “Miz Tucker,” Mrs. Day introduced, “this here is Harley’s sister, Zorah Millar, and her husband, J.D. Zorah and J.D., meet Miz Tucker and her daughter Phoebe, my neighbors from over across the road.”
    J.D. muttered a greeting, and Zorah half stood and offered her hand to Alafair from across the table. “Yes, we’ve heard how your family has been so helpful since my brother met his end,” she said. She looked at Phoebe with interest. “You must be John Lee’s friend, Phoebe,” she added.
    Phoebe blushed charmingly, but responded with dignity. “Yes, ma’am. I hope I’m a friend to all John Lee’s family.”
    Alafair studied the woman who was studying Phoebe. Zorah Millar may have been Harley’s sister, but she resembled Mrs. Day in her size and features, except for the fact that she looked twenty years younger and thirty pounds plumper. It’s a wonder, Alafair thought, what a useful husband and regular meals will do for a body.
    Alafair knew of the Millars, but had never actually met any of them. The husband was a small cotton farmer who worked part-time at the brick factory. There were a few young children. They didn’t go to her church, nor were any of their children particular friends of any of Alafair’s. Alafair was not even sure that she had known that Zorah Millar was Harley Day’s sister.
    They settled themselves around the groaning kitchen table. Mrs. Day sat herself down with them to act as the official hostess, while the dignified Naomi took on the position of dogsbody, serving the guests.
    “Y’all have a farm up north of town, I believe,” Alafair said to the Millars. “I’m afraid I didn’t realize you were Harley’s sister, Miz Millar.”
    Zorah and her husband exchanged a glance before she replied. “I don’t wonder that you didn’t know, Miz Tucker. Me and Harley wasn’t exactly close. Nobody in my family has been out here to Harley’s farm in years.”
    “I fear Zorah and Harley didn’t get along,” Mrs. Day added.
    “It’s more like we had us a feud going,” J.D. acknowledged.
    Alafair shook her head. Was there no one in the world who could abide Harley Day? “Well, then, it’s good of you to call on his folks in this time of loss,” she said, at length.
    “Oh, we never had no quarrel with the family here,” Zorah hastened to assure her. She cast a sympathetic glance at Mrs. Day, who responded with a weak smile. “Why, we’d have done anything we could have to help these kids. They’re all good kids, Miz Tucker, considering what they’ve had to put up with.”
    “That boy John Lee is the only reason this farm is making it at all,” J.D. interjected. “Him and the older girls.” He nodded toward Naomi, who was passing slices of cake on chipped saucers around the table.
    “My sister-in-law has her hands full with all these young’un,” Zorah said. “It’s a wonder they’ve done as well as they have. How I wish we could have been more help!” She leaned forward, apparently anxious that Alafair understand their dilemma. “But it got so bad that we feared Harley would do us an injury if me or J.D. came out here.”
    “He threatened to,” J.D. said.
    Alafair looked over at Mrs. Day, who was listening to the conversation with an expression of polite interest. Nothing that anyone said about her husband seemed to cause her any consternation,