1931

Woodburn, Tennessee

The body was lying on a table in the basement of the Purdy Funeral Home. The town was too small to have need of a morgue. The few accidental deaths or homicides that occurred within the town limits were brought here or to McClendon’s.

Josephine stood just within the doorway, steeling herself for what she must do. The heat in the room was stifling. The worst summer heat in ninety years, the newspaper said, but not a drought. It rained nearly every day so the land was like a swamp, a jungle. Strange insects dropped from the vine-strangled trees, and bizarre fungi bloomed on the walls of the houses like exotic flowers. A summer like no other.

The body was covered by a sheet. Two naked lightbulbs hung from long cords above the table. Across the room Sheriff Gillespie stood talking in a low voice to two deputies. They were chuckling and jostling each other like men at a barbecue, but when they saw her they rose quietly, dipped their heads, and left the room.

The sheriff took his hat off and walked over to her, his gun creaking in its holster.

“Good evening, Miss Woodburn.”

“Good evening, Sheriff Gillespie.”

“I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this but Mrs. Woodburn seemed …” He hesitated. “Well, she seemed not herself, and you were the next of kin. Procedural matters and all that.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She moved closer to the body before he could take her arm. He followed behind, creaking softly.

“It’s not a pretty sight,” he said gruffly. His demeanor changed, becoming all businesslike and brisk as he lifted a corner of the sheet to expose the face.

Josephine had a sudden sensation of falling from a very great distance. She swayed on her feet. The sheriff put his hand out as if to steady her, but she ignored it.

“That swelling is usual in cases where the body’s been in the water for a while. And those bruises and lacerations to the face.” He hesitated here and she was aware again of the change in his demeanor. It occurred to her that he was trying to impress her. “Well, that could have been caused by rocks or debris in the river.”

Maitland had moved up on her other side. She had not heard him come in. His youthful face was pale, and she could see that his hands were trembling, his cuff links blinking under the lights. He glanced at the face and then quickly averted his eyes and Josephine saw in that glance all she needed to know. She felt a quick stab of guilt and despair. She had sent the letter that brought him here, to this.

She turned and laid her gloved hand protectively on the sheriff’s arm. “I’m not sure what to do. I’m not sure what to say. You’ll have to guide me, Sheriff Gillespie.”

He blinked and cleared his throat. He looked down at her hand. “Is this the body of Charles Woodburn?” he asked in a stern, officious voice.

“Yes,” she said and he dropped the cloth, easing back into his former affable self. She let her hand rest on his arm a few seconds longer than was necessary and then withdrew it.

There was a faint scent of whiskey and unwashed linen in the room, and underneath it all a sweet, fetid odor. She had not noticed it before, or if she had, it had not registered consciously. The shock of seeing him had driven everything else from her mind, the dreadful swollen face, once beautiful, so monstrous now. The inner man finally revealed.

“We found a bottle of whiskey in his pocket and surmise that he fell into the river near your place, intoxicated, and drifted downstream past the Haskell Bridge,” the sheriff said.

She said nothing. He continued, “That would explain the lacerations. There are many rocks, and the current is swift.”

She stood staring down at the swollen, shapeless thing that had been Charlie Woodburn. So much tragedy in life. So much cruelty.

Beside her, Maitland stirred. He said, “Will there be anything else, Sheriff?”

She heard the quaver in his voice. She thought, Some things can never be forgotten. Some things can never be forgiven.

“No, that’s all. There’ll be an inquest but we’ll keep as much of it out of the papers as we can in deference to the family.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Maitland took her arm and without another word, the two of them turned and walked out.