“I will. That aside, what is your impression of her story?”

“It all sounds like the way she’d behave in those situations. Overhearing the argument, then getting stuck in the dark at the bottom of those stairs.” She paused. “One thing at least. I’m more convinced than ever that Mama didn’t kill Mrs. Cassity.”

“I don’t see how she could have, unless, like Sean said earlier, she’s an Olympic-level gymnast.”

Kanesha ignored that. “The sheriff ought to be focusing on Morty Cassity. Surely Mama told Tidwell about the argument she overheard.” Her eyes flashed. “But of course he could always say she was making that up to divert suspicion from herself.”

“He can’t keep this up for long, surely.”

“He’d better not,” Kanesha said. “And for all I know he’s grilled Morty Cassity about all this. I can’t get any real info on what’s going on. Even Bates can’t find out, because no one will talk to him, either. He’s actually gotten to where he likes me, and right now that’s not a good thing in the department.”

I couldn’t blame Kanesha for feeling frustrated. The whole thing was petty and stupid, but it was all too human and believable.

“There’s one thing I haven’t told you about your mother’s story.” I paused for a breath, and Kanesha’s eyes narrowed. “I think Azalea might have seen something that she didn’t tell me. I may be totally off base on this, because it was simply an impression I had that she hesitated the tiniest fraction of a second before she answered my question. About whether she saw anyone or anything at the top of the stairs after Vera fell.”

“Why would she do that?” Kanesha didn’t sound angry, and that relieved me.

“I don’t know. Like I said, I could have imagined it, because Azalea is always such a straight shooter.”

“Yeah, right between the eyes.” Kanesha shrugged. “You could be right. If Mama saw something and she’s not talking about it, she has her reasons. They might not make sense to anybody else, but they will to her. Getting her to tell you, well, I don’t know.”

“I’ll try talking to her again when I go home for lunch,” I said. I glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was nearly eleven. “There’s more I need to tell you.”

Kanesha leaned back in her chair and nodded. I handed her Vera’s letter and explained who the woman in the photograph was.

“What has her mother got to do with anything?” Kanesha stared down at Essie Mae Hobson.

“I don’t have a clue. Wait, though, I want to play you a message from Vera that came in yesterday. I don’t work here on Tuesdays, so I didn’t hear this until a little while ago.” I skipped to Vera’s message on my voice mail and played it for her.

When it ended I saved it and waited for Kanesha to comment.

“What did she mean about looking in the Ducote papers?”