Bessie sighed. “I don’t suppose it would’ve been very hard. There were always a couple of coffins in the back room at the funeral home, and Daddy was out here at the cemetery several times a week. He could have paid one of his gravediggers to dig the grave and given him a bottle of whiskey to keep it quiet.” She chuckled sadly. “By the time the whiskey was gone, the gravedigger would have forgotten where he dug it. Daddy could easily have brought the coffin out here and buried Harold himself, maybe at night. Or maybe he thought he was safe, screened by those trees, so he did it in the daytime. People saw him out here so often that I doubt that anyone would ask him what he was doing.”

“And the grave marker?” Liz asked.

“It’s nothing but a scrap of granite. Daddy owned the gravestone business, Liz. It could have been just something he had around. It looks like he cut the initials himself.” Another sad chuckle. “He was never much of a hand when it came to stonecutting.”

“Oh, Bessie,” Lizzy said. “I am so sorry. What . . . are you going to do?”

Bessie dried her eyes again and handed Lizzy’s handkerchief back. “Do you mean, am I going to tell anybody? Like—the sheriff?”

Lizzy nodded. “Or have the body exhumed and autopsied, so you know for sure how he . . . how it happened?”

Bessie was silent for a moment. “I doubt if I have a legal right to ask that, Liz. And I really don’t think Miss Hamer is strong enough to go through all that ugliness. She’s convinced that Harold took Daddy’s money and left and was too ashamed to ever get back in touch.” She swallowed a little hiccup. “As for telling the sheriff—Well, Harold’s been dead for nearly thirty years now, and nobody remembers him except for his sister and me. Miss Jamison is a cousin, but I doubt if she ever met him.”

“And your father’s been dead for a decade,” Lizzy said. “A dead man can’t be prosecuted.”

Bessie nodded sadly. “So I’m not sure there’s any point in telling anyone. I’m the only one who really cares.” She looked back in the direction of the grave. “But the mystery is finally solved. And I know where he is—at last. Maybe I’ll get a proper headstone. And have the area cleaned up and mowed.”

“Yes, you could do that,” Lizzy said gently. “I’ll be glad to help, if you want.”

“Thank you, Liz,” Bessie said, reaching for her hand. “What would I do without you?” She sniffed. “Without you and Verna and Myra May and—” She shook her head, unable to go on.

“I know,” Lizzy said, and put her arms around Bessie. “We all depend on one another. And that’s good. That’s the way it should be.”