“I reckon so, or dey’d be stealin’ mo’ chickens. But we ain’t seen nor heard ’em fo’ several nights. Guess dey done cleaned out of de neighborhood.”
Mary Louise cleared her throat. She wanted to ask this woman what she knew about the robbery at Dark Cedars, but she did not like to seem abrupt or suspicious. So she tried to speak casually.
“Since you know about the chickens being stolen, Mrs. Jones, did you happen to hear anything unusual last night at Dark Cedars?”
“Lem’me see.... Las’ night was Sattiday, wasn’t it? Abraham done gone to lodge meetin’ and got home bout ten o’clock, he said. No, I was in bed asleep, and we neve’ wakened up at all.... Why? Did anything happen up there? Mo’ chickens took?”
“Not chickens—but something a great deal more valuable. A piece of jewelry belonging to Miss Grant.”
“You don’t say! Was dere real stones in it—genu-ine?”
“Yes.”
The colored woman shook her head solemnly.
“Abraham always say de old lady’d come to trouble sure as night follows day. De mean life she’s done lived—neve’ goin’ to church or helpin’ de poor. She neve’ sent us so much as a bucket of coal fo’ Christmas. But we don’t judge her—dat’s de Lord’s business.”
“Did you know she kept money and jewels in her house?” inquired Mary Louise.