believing that the papers were in Claireâs house, where Claire might find them. She must have felt they were a sword over her head. She must have wanted to come back and get the papers which she had hidden in the closet, but she hadnât dared face Claire. Last night, however, something had happened which made the girl willing to take the chance. What did âEddie done a terrible thingâ mean? What did it mean that âthey were coming for herâ?
It was out of the question to do a lick of work around the place. This is my apartment, Marjorie thought. I am Mrs. Charles Carter. I am Charles Carterâs wife and I live with him in our apartment. She glanced around the room, knowing that she had never felt it hers before, that she had felt guilty of living here. Guilty of living, she amended, guilty of being alive. Marjorie did attempt to dust and tidy the living room but couldnât settle to it. She sat in a chair near the babyâs basket with one of Charlesâ socks stretched on a darning egg, but she was too excited to weave the thread up and under, up and under. She tapped the darning egg against her flushed cheek and waited for Ednaâs sister.
It bothered Marjorie that this girl, this sister of Edna who had been so abominably treated here, should automatically go to the back door. Marjorie really wanted Grace to march in the front door and demand justice, but Ednaâs sister had barely sufficient courage to creep in the back way. Because of Claireâs description, Marjorie expected someone beautiful, but Grace was a skinny, mat-brown girl of about seventeen or eighteen, very young, anyway, and very frightened. When Marjorie waved her into the kitchen, she took two steps forward and halted. As if she had been forbidden to look Marjorie in the eye, she limited her vision to her own feet. âPlease sit down, Grace. Iâll get the uniforms in a few minutes.â Grace obediently sat on the edge of the kitchen chair. âTell me about your sister. What happened to her?â
Grace spoke to her feet. âEddie ainât been right since Andrewââ
The husband. âSince Andrewââ Marjorie prompted. Since Andrew died?
âSince Andrew, she doan eat. She doan sleep. She walk around the room all day and when I wake nights she still walking. Since Andrewââ
Marjorie closed her eyes. âIs he dead? Is Andrew dead, Grace?â
âYes, maâam.â
She would hire a lawyer for Edna. They would produce the papers in court. âGentlemen of the jury, I will not deny that the defendant did this murder, but I will attempt to prove that she was forced to do it.â¦â âHave you come here for the papers, Grace?â
âMaâam?â
âThe papers, Grace.â Marjorie pointed to the closet door.
âI doan know about no papers, just Eddieâs uniforms.â
âJust the uniforms? Please donât look so frightened, Grace. Please trust me, wonât you?â She sat on the table facing the girl, smiling at her, trying to win her confidence. âTell me about Andrewâs death, Grace all you know.â
âThey found Andrew in Newark.â
âIn Newark?â No, in Harlem! In that room in Harlem. Dead drunk. Drunk dead.
âYes, maâam, He went away and Eddie, she went wild, and they they found Andrew in Newark.â
âAnd then?â
âThen they made Eddie go see him and she was so bad, saying all the time she did it.â
âSaying she killed Andrew?â
âYes, maâam.â
Could she ask Grace whether it was true? âAndrew was found dead in Newark?â She couldnât bring herself to ask.
âYes, maâam. They found Andrew in Newark.â She pressed her dark fingers together, and drew them across her throat to indicate how they had found Andrew in Newark. It was a gesture terrible in its simplicity.
âOh!â Marjorie said. She