“I think she may have been killed because of how her father dealt with the McCarrolls. That’s what I’m trying to learn about.”

For once someone didn’t say that Grangeville was a long time back. “John Hargrave was an idiot,” he said flatly. “Handsome in an empty way but vain as a peacock. Even of Lydia: when she was only seven or eight he’d parade her around the courthouse in braids and ribbons just to see you smile. She was pretty, too, even then. But that was Hargrave. He looked at you as if your face was a mirror, like he didn’t really see you except to wonder how he should feel about himself that day. Hadn’t been a judge but one month when he hangs a painting of himself in the courthouse. Let it out he was going to be governor. Three years later he was gone and so was the painting. Only thing he’s remembered for is this.

“Morning after they brought the nigras in, Hargrave came to George looking very serious, especially about himself. He sat in front of George’s desk and told him in his pompous way that if he and George wanted to stand tall in Monroe County they’d better give this nigra case their best. He didn’t have to explain his meaning. George just stares at him, sweating. He’d already turned on the ceiling fan and it had blown half the papers off his desk, but George kept wiping his forehead. Finally he answered, ‘I understand, Judge.’ Hargrave gets this peculiar look in his eye, kind of far off. Doesn’t say a word more. Just nods and smiles.

“When he’s gone, George just sits there with the fan blowing his silly flowered tie in all directions. After a long time he mutters, ‘Biggest case since the monkey trial,’ sticks on his hat, and goes home.

“He didn’t show until the next afternoon, with purple hollows under his eyes and hair hanging down his forehead. For two weeks he didn’t say anything that wasn’t business, even about Lucy. She came in to prepare her testimony eating an ice cream cone. George snapped at her to throw it away, not like him at all. Then he drills her on her story and after she’s got it down and he’s told her how to dress, he throws her out and starts fussing over the next detail. It was the most overprepared rape case in human history. None of that helped. Come the trial, George was a sight.

“The thing was won from when Hargrave appointed C. W. Baxter to defend, who’d been drunk ten years and just wanted to get back to the barn without losing friends. But the court was jammed with townsfolk and Yankee reporters who’d come down by train, and all that plus the heat started making George a little sick.