Page 20

In only five days the Leeds property had begun to look neglected. The lawn was uneven, and wild onions sprouted above the grass. Small branches had fallen in the yard. Graham wanted to pick them up. The house seemed asleep, the latticed porch striped and dappled with the long morning shadows of the trees. Standing with Springfield in the alley, Graham could see himself looking in the back window, opening the porch door. Oddly, his reconstruction of the entry by the killer seemed to elude him now, in the sunlight. He watched a child’s swing move gently in the breeze.

“That looks like Parsons,” Springfield said.

H. G. Parsons was out early, grubbing in a flowerbed in his backyard, two houses down. Springfield and Graham went to Parsons’s back gate and stood beside his garbage cans. The lids were chained to the fence.

Springfield measured the height of the light meter with a tape.

He had notes on all the Leedses’ neighbors. His notes said Parsons had taken early retirement from the post office at his supervisor’s request. The supervisor had reported Parsons to be “increasingly absentminded.”

Springfield’s notes contained gossip too. The neighbors said Parsons’s wife stayed with her sister in Macon as much as she could, and that his son never called him anymore.

“Mr. Parsons. Mr. Parsons,” Springfield called.

Parsons leaned his tilling fork against the house and came to the fence. He wore sandals and white socks. Dirt and grass had stained the toes of his socks. His face was shiny pink.

Arteriosclerosis, Graham thought. He’s taken his pill.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Parsons, could we talk to you for a minute? We were hoping you could help us,” Springfield said.

“Are you from the power company?”

“No, I’m Buddy Springfield from the police department.”

“It’s about the murder, then. My wife and I were in Macon, as I told the officer—”

“I know, Mr. Parsons. We wanted to ask about your light meter. Did—”

“If that . . . meter reader said I did anything improper, he’s just—”

“No, no. Mr. Parsons, did you see a stranger reading your meter last week?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I believe you told Hoyt Lewis that someone else read your meter ahead of him.”

“I did. And it’s about time. I’m keeping up with this, and the Public Service Commission will get a full report from me.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sure they’ll take care of it. Who did you see reading your meter?”

“It wasn’t a stranger, it was somebody from Georgia Power.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he looked like a meter reader.”

“What was he wearing?”

“What they all wear, I guess. What is it? A brown outfit and the cap.”

“Did you see his face?”

“I can’t remember if I did. I was looking out the kitchen window when I saw him. I wanted to talk to him, but I had to put on my robe, and by the time I got outside, he was gone.”

“Did he have a truck?”

“I don’t remember seeing one. What’s going on? Why do you want to know?”