I got out of bed a few minutes before seven a.m. Saturday, and immediately went to check on Odell again. He looked dead, but I poked him with my foot to make sure. He was as stiff as a board. That flawless, coffee-colored skin he—and I—had been so proud of looked like it had been covered with grayish-brown paste.

I covered him with a sheet and called my parents. Daddy answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong with you, gal? You know better than to be calling over here this early in the morning.”

“Daddy, Odell is dead!”

It took him at least five seconds to respond. “S-say what?”

I started crying so hard and gasping for breath, it was hard to talk again. When I did, it was in a raspy voice that sounded nothing like mine. “Somebody stabbed him. I . . . I just got out of bed and found him on the living-room floor.”

“Sweet Jesus!” Daddy yelped. “Lord up in Heaven! Millie, get in here! Somebody stabbed and killed Odell last night.” He cleared his throat and went on. “Joyce, what in the world happened?”

“I don’t know yet. Uh . . . somebody probably tried to rob him. That’s all I know right now.”

“Did you call Sheriff Potts?”

Before I could respond, Mama came on the line. “Joyce, what in the world is going on? You all right? Do you know who stabbed Odell?”

“I’m fine, Mama. I didn’t hear or see a thing. It happened while I was asleep. My stomach was feeling queasy again last night, and I took one of those pills you brought over to help me sleep.”

“Somebody broke in the house, killed your husband, and you slept through it?”

“Well, that pill put me into a deep sleep. The same way they do you when you take them.”

“I thought Odell went to visit his daddy yesterday evening, like he been doing every Friday for years,” Mama hollered.

“Um, he did. I guess he came home early, and somebody followed him. Everybody knows he always carries a heap of cash in his pocket.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Did you contact Sheriff Potts?”

“Not yet,” I sniffled. “I was waiting to talk to you and Daddy first.”

“Call the peacemaker,” Mama ordered. “Sheriff Potts needs to get on this right away.”

I was so enraged by now, I didn’t know what I was crying about the most: Odell’s betrayal or somebody else killing him before I could do it. I suddenly started howling like a hungry baby.

“Joyce, calm down and take some deep breaths. You got to make sense when you talk to Sheriff Potts. No, don’t you call him. You might say the wrong thing and complicate the situation. I’ll call him myself.”