The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose

“What nasty trick?” Charlie wanted to know.

“Verna sold a piece of property she had inherited,” Lizzy explained, “and deposited the money in her account at the Darling Savings and Trust.”

“Ten thousand dollars,” Verna said, and Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Florida property,” she added. “It was a surprise to me, too.”

“Anyway,” Lizzy went on, “Mr. Scroggins went to Mr. Johnson and asked him to take a look at Verna’s account. They saw the money from the property sale and decided it must have come from the county treasury. It wasn’t fifteen thousand, but I guess they figured she spent the rest.”

Charlie frowned. “That’s pretty slick, Liz. How the devil did you find out about it?”

“Oh, we Dahlias have our ways,” Lizzy said with a chuckle. “Anyway, that’s how the sheriff got involved. On Mr. Scroggins’ say-so, with Mr. Johnson’s connivance.”

“A warrantless, illegal search of the bank records,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “Pretty dumb, if you ask me.” He grinned at Lizzy. “Your boss will have a lot of fun with that one.”

“Scroggins was anxious to push the whole thing off onto me,” Verna said. “I’d say that he’s definitely involved in trying to stage a quick cover-up. But I don’t have any way of knowing how much he knew about DeYancy, Carruthers, and that fifteen thousand. He might have been in on it from the very beginning. Or he might not have known anything until that audit report came through—and then he started trying to protect DeYancy’s reputation.”

“Or his own skin,” Lizzy said. “He might’ve been afraid that he’d get blamed. And that the voters would remember, come the next election.”

“Back to my question, Verna,” Charlie said. “What are you going to do with this?”

She paused. “I’m taking a chance, but I think I should have a talk with Amos Tombull. If the county commissioners conducted their own official investigation and if they did it right, with a little nudge in the right direction, they’d pretty quickly figure out what happened. The mortgage and the payoff are both recorded in the property abstract. All they have to do is look for the checks to Carruthers and move forward from there.” She paused. “Anyway, that’s what the state wants the commissioners to do. Investigate. I think they might be afraid to try to cover things up, with the state auditor looking over their shoulders.”

Lizzy put down her coffee cup. “I agree, Verna. I think that’s exactly what you should do. Talk to Mr. Tombull. First thing tomorrow morning.”

Charlie looked up at the clock on the wall. “It’s already tomorrow morning.” He grinned. “And don’t forget. The minute you’re in the clear, Verna, I get the story.”

Verna gave him a tight smile. “That’s right, Charlie. You get the story.”





TWENTY-ONE

Monday, April 27, 1931



Confederate Day, an Alabama state holiday, was celebrated on the fourth Monday of April. It marked the surrender of Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston to Union General William Tecumseh Sherman, on April 26, 1865, after the last major Confederate offensive of the War near Durham, North Carolina.

Confederate Day was always an important day in Darling. Last year, there had been four Confederate veterans to be honored—white-haired, bearded old men who got their gray uniforms out of the camphor chest and proudly donned them for the parade around the courthouse square, down Robert E. Lee, and out Schoolhouse Road to the Darling Cemetery. Last year, they’d ridden in two cars, but old Abner Prince hadn’t made it through the winter, and the three who were left would be riding in Andy Stanton’s open-topped 1928 Franklin touring car, with Rebel flags fluttering fore and aft and Andy at the wheel, decked out in his summer whites, with a Rebel flag stuck in the band of his white straw hat and a big cigar stuck in his mouth.

The ceremony took place at the cemetery, where the town’s Stars and Stripes were run down for the day and the Confederate flag run up beside the stage that had been built for the occasion. The Reverend Carl Mason of the First Baptist Church gave the invocation, Mayor Jed Snow gave the welcome, and the speeches flowed like good corn whiskey.

And at the very end, there was a special tribute. Lizzy Lacy, dressed in her prettiest spring dress and wearing a new pink straw hat with pink and green velvet ribbons, reminded folks that they should be sure to notice the row of Confederate roses along the fence at the front of the cemetery.