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He gingerly sifted through the ashes before plucking out a half-burned piece of paper.
“What does that look like to you?” said Jack, holding it up to her.
“It... it looks like a court pleading. But I can only make out a few words.”
As Jack was holding it, the burned paper crumpled to bits and fell to the floor.
“Damn,” they both exclaimed.
After completing their search inside, they walked past the large pool with its lovely blue water, and over to the garage where Jack admired the Randolphs’ Buick, which sat in the first bay. The garage space was tidy and well organized.
“Jerome obviously took pride in his job,” noted Jack.
He ducked his head inside the Buick and picked up the chauffeur’s cap from the front seat.
“Jerome said he drove the Randolphs around sometimes. But were they vain enough to make him put on this hat? He didn’t wear a chauffeur’s uniform.”
“I’m sure Jerome insisted on it,” said DuBose.
He glanced at her, puzzled. “Jerome? Why?”
“If he drove them somewhere and they left the car to go shopping or to a restaurant, Jerome would be sitting in this fancy car all by himself. If the police didn’t think he was the driver for some white people, they’d arrest him for stealing the Buick. With the chauffeur’s cap on they’d probably leave him alone.”
Jack dropped the cap back on the front seat and shook his head.
They drove to the sprawling Willow Oaks Country Club, housed in a grand building with enormous windows and sweeping views out to groomed lawns and flower beds, and an eighteen-hole golf course where educated, affluent men agonized over directing tiny white balls into small holes.
Jack angled his Fiat between a Mercedes-Benz sedan and a Porsche convertible.
“How much does it cost to join this place?” asked DuBose.
“I never asked. I’m just not country club material.”
They inquired about Gordon Hanover and met up with him just as he was finishing a meal with a group of men also in golf attire. Upon learning what they wanted, he led them into an adjoining lounge that was outfitted with leather couches, small club chairs, and an array of small tables, with magazines fanned out on them.
A liveried Black attendant came forward. Hanover ordered an iced tea, and they joined him in that.
After the teas were delivered Hanover said, “Christine is devastated. The day we ran into you there? I tried to dissuade her from going into that room after you warned me. But she insisted. I thought she was going to faint.”
“I’m sure,” said Jack.
“Now, you say you’re representing the man the police arrested?”
“Yes, Jerome Washington.”
“Right. Jerome seemed like a good man. I thought Leslie and Anne liked him.”
“That’s what he says, too. And they had his family over for lunch and to swim recently,” said DuBose.
“Yes. We actually saw them there. I forget his wife’s name, but she and Jerome seemed tickled pink about the visit. And their kids were all smiles. Made me smile, too.”
“They were all thrilled,” said DuBose. “And her name is Pearl.”
“That’s right, Pearl.”
“She’s also been arrested,” said DuBose.
Hanover sat up looking startled. “What? Why?”
