LAST DIAMOND ROSE

By Leanna Carroll

Summer of 1955. The McMullens, a family of six, reside on their apple orchard in the deep south of Houston County, Alabama. There is an eighteen-year-old boy working on the orchard all day, every day. He has a kind heart and charming simplicity, winning the hearts of (almost) everyone around him, especially the owner's eldest daughter, Betty. Life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leanna Carroll
• Release date: May 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578907406

Leanna Carroll

LEANNA CARROLL is a story-loving creative. Last Diamond Rose is her debut novel. Leanna graduated from the University of Delaware in 2020 with a Bachelor's Degree in History. A native of the state, Leanna resides in Delaware, living as artistic and joyful a life as she can.

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Prologue

***

You wanna know about her, then, huh? I knew she’d come up sooner or later.

Can’t say I’m surprised you’re interested in her. It’s a bit of an understatement to say that living as a thirteen-year-old orphan with one arm really begs some interest, not to mention deflates her self-esteem. Not that anyone could tell, because this one was a firecracker, to say the least. Only I knew what was behind the surface because you’re right, you know. I spent the most time with her out of anyone.

I met the young Diamond McMullen in the early days of her self-discovery when it seemed that things had turned up so far that they felt right back down again. Before that, she’d been in an orphanage of sorts, with a bunch of other young children that nobody wanted. These kids, well, you could say they were all unique, in the worst of ways. If you were looking for an unkempt youngin’ with a poker flush selection of physical, psychological, or emotional issues, this place was what you called a field day.

Diamond was a tough one, though. If you could say anything about her, that was it. Made it outta there, didn’t she? And not just out of the home, neither. I’ll tell you what I know, and you can do your psycho evaluation if you want to, but you won’t find what you’re looking for. I know, I’m gonna tell you anyway. I’m just lettin’ you know you’re wastin’ your time.

Listen, if you’re askin’ for a story, pull up a chair, fellas. And I’ll tell you what I know.

1

Home Sweet Home

Home? Yeah, that's a bit of a stretch.

I remember askin' Mrs. McMullen what she thought of the place where they got her from, and she said it was like walking into a house full of the undead. All the kids, just looking at you with those sullen eyes. Walking around outside, aimlessly. And it was in the city, you know, so the place was already a little grimy without the atmosphere if you know what I mean. Hmm? Oh, the McMullens? Don't tell me you don't know about them, now. Uh-huh, in my own words, huh? Alright, then.

The McMullens lived right down the road, on that big apple orchard. I been workin' for 'em since I was eleven years old, pickin' apples and all sorts of other stuff for a kid's profit. It was me and a bunch of other sumbitches with nothin' else to do and nowhere else to go. 

It's true that I talked to Mrs. a lot when I could; that's how I knew they were planning on adopting. Couldn't understand why, with the other heathens running around. But Mrs. McMullen always said she liked to think of herself as a humanitarian, you know? She wanted to care for people. She's a good lady, you know, deserves more than what she's been given. Sorry, off-topic. Where were we? Ah, yes, that day.

So the McMullens had gone down there to the city one day a couple months ago. Oh, alright, now. I know y'all are just doin' your job, and I respect that. But if you want the exact date, surely you could ask Mrs. McMullen? I see. Well, it's a shame y'all are like that, but I will oblige. 

It would've been the fourteenth or fifteenth of July 1955, whichever one was on a Thursday. Just a regular hot-as-hell Alabama day. About an hour after the folks'd left, I was tendin' trees out in the orchard when I heard a scream coming from the house. There wasn't anybody else around who heard it, not that they'd care anyway, and so I started running toward it, even though I knew I wasn't allowed to step one foot inside that house. When I finally got there, I stayed outside the back door for a minute, daring myself to not be a bitch and go in, all the while knowin' that Mrs. McMullen'd kill me if I got dirt on her floor. I decided to take the risk and burst through the door.

Thankfully, there wasn't any maniacs in there or any of that. The only thing out of the ordinary was a broken vase on the floor, and sixteen-year-old Miss Betty McMullen, the eldest child, knelt down next to it, clutching her hand that was covered in blood.

Aw hell, Miss Betty, I said. Now, what'd you go and do that for?

Nothin', stupid, she said, like the charmer she is. Just help me.

Well, alrighty, Miss Betty, but your mamma's gonna pitch a fit if she finds me in here.

I walked over and helped her up, careful not to step on any broken glass. I took out the bandana that I keep in my pocket and started wrappin' it around her bleeding hand. I looked around at the floor around us.

How'd you even manage to hurt yourself like that, anyway? I asked. Ain't the first time this week, neither. Remember the other day you missed a step and landed on your knee and cut it all up? Can't you go one day without an injury? I'm surprised you got any blood left.

She sighed and looked at her hand. I remember, Tom, I was there. She winced as I was wrapping her hand. I threw the vase, and when I went to pick up the pieces, I cut myself. I couldn't help it, I started laughing, and she hit me in the arm with her good hand. Hey, you jerk! You better watch yourself, or I'll tell mamma you broke it!

Aw, c'mon, now, you know I was just foolin'. I got up and helped her off the floor. I kept her hands for a moment and then went back over to the door. I do gotta get outta here, though. If I was you, I'd tell your mamma the little'n's did it. You know she'll forgive them.

Yeah, you're sure right about that. Now get on outta here 'fore you get caught.

I will, I said. But you know, Miss Betty, if you ever need me, you know how to find me. And you, ma'am, are always welcome in my house. 

She tried to look upset, but her smile gave her away. You're a pervert, Tom Higgins!

Thank you, ma'am.

Was I flirting with Miss Betty? Sure, I was. Ain't no sense denyin' it. The girl was a fire lit under my behind, but hell, she's a beauty. Pretty red hair, and those glowing blue eyes, and the rest of her was never that bad, neither. I won't go into specifics because I'm a gentleman, but I'd've hated to be her daddy if you'll forgive me, gents. He had his hands full, that was for sure. I'd seen them boys come in from town with their fancy dress and their high-quality education come around askin' her questions. It seemed that was all they could do because Miss Betty wouldn't have nothin' to do with them. They just didn't have anything to impress her. To tell you the truth, up until recently, I thought she still had the hots for me, but I know now how silly it is to think that. 

Now, if you're wondering why she broke the vase, I'll tell you. Miss Betty was angry because her mamma and daddy were getting another kid. Miss Betty sure didn't like that idea; you could bet your second serving on it. I learned later that they hadn't told her 'til that morning that they were even doing it. The younger ones didn't even know yet. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I didn't know if Mr. and Mrs. thought it was gonna be a good one or not, or whether they just didn't care. But Miss Betty wouldn't be letting 'em hear the last of it for a long while.

So I get out the front door just in time to hear the sound of hollerin' from the orchard. I was thinkin' of pretending not to hear it, but I'm too honest of a man to go running away from stuff, especially when I'm trusted by the family to watch out for the boys and make honest gentlemen out of them too. So I go running out behind the house and- what? 'What's this got to do with anything?' Now listen here, you asked me to tell you a story, and so you're gonna get a goddamn story. Now, where was I? Ah yes.

When I got around the house and just a little into the trees toward the noise, I could see Jimmy and Tuck around there just yellin' and screamin' at each other. Hmm? Oh, right, their full names are James Haroldson and Alan Tucker Holt. Oh, now you're interested. They was two big ol' workin' boys, and when I tell you those boys could find a disagreement over anything and everything, you better believe it. I'd had to break up a fight earlier that same week, dodgin' fists and all, over Jimmy stealin' a gardenin' hoe from Tuck. Even though Tuck had stolen it himself from old Mr. Jones down the road when he did work for him that last summer. I broke up the fight and took the hoe back to Mr. Jones, who paid me five dollars just for bein' honest. That was supposed to be a life lesson for those boys, but it didn't do 'em any good apparently, because they just went back to fightin' the next day. 

This time, they weren't fist fighting yet, but they looked well on their way to it. When I got to 'em, they were this close to each other, either one of 'em gettin' ready to snap. And the other boys were standing around 'em yellin' and carryin' on, ain't one of 'em get close enough to separate 'em. That was until they saw me comin' around, then they were sticking their arms out to take the boys' shoulders, pretending they weren't letting the fight go just to entertain themselves.

Alright, quit foolin' now! I told them. Y'all got shit to do, don't ya? Then I got in close range with Jim and Tuck, who still ain't hit each other, just there staring into each other's eyes, all precious. And what the hell is the bother this time? I asked them. You stole his shit. He stole yours. I got half a mind to put names on everything, so you ain't got an excuse to fight no more.

It ain't that, Tommy, Tuck said, not looking away from Jimmy while he was talking to me. Jim here says I stole his lady friend.

His what? I asked, then looked at Jimmy, who still hadn't said a word. You got a girl, Jim? Not a word still. Huh? Do ya?

No, Tommy, I don't, Jimmy said finally. But I do got a sister, and this here sumbitch put his grubby hands on her.

The boys still lingering around were muttering to each other all the while, and the minute Jim said the word, sister, they looked ready to jump in.

You's one to talk about grubby hands, Jim. I ain't done nothing but tell her she looked nice, Tuck said. I's bein' a gentleman, Tommy.

You're full of shit, Tuck! Jimmy yelled an inch from his face. I saw the both of ya's behind the shed the other night from my winda. She's still young, and she don't want nothin' with you!

Ain't what she said the other night.

As you can imagine, it took off from there. They was back and forth and fighting with a rage that didn't have the energy to back it up, not after working most of the day. After a minute, me and a few other boys managed to get 'em away from each other. Tuck was on the ground, and I'd got Jimmy stood six or seven feet away from him, leanin' on an apple tree.

That's enough now, I said to 'em, breathing hard and my arm achin' from a stray punch. Y'all are lucky the folks are gone for the day and ain't seen ya messin' around. There's still work needs doin', and the way I figure it, y'all ain't gettin' paid to play fight all day long.

I glanced up at the house for a second, and I could just see Miss Betty looking out a second-story window, and when she saw me lookin', she disappeared. 

I looked back down at the boys, most of 'em lookin' down all ashamed. Jimmy didn't look at me or anybody. Tuck was gettin' up from the ground, a bruise already formin' on the left side of his face. 

Go on, now, I said. Get back to what you was doin'. 

The boys all went their separate ways, not one lookin' at me. Jimmy went along with them, but Tuck stayed behind for a second. 

You got some nerve, Tuck, I said, once everyone else had gone. You only went after that girl 'cause it was Jimmy's sister, didn't ya?

Tommy, I ain't go after no girl, he said. We just got along, that's all.

You could think again 'fore lyin' to me, Tuck, I said. I worked with you for three years, now. I know what you're like.

Tuck stepped a little closer to me. I could say something to you, he said real quiet, about going after girls you shouldn't. He tilted his head toward the house, and I glanced for the quickest moment up at the window again.

I looked him in the eye and said seriously, You know I ain't done nothin' I shouldn't. I say hello, she replies, that's it. Nothin' more to it.

He smirked at me a second, then walked away. I looked up at the window again, and Miss Betty was back, looking down at me. I knew I shouldn't be talkin' to her too much, or someone would start sayin' somethin'. I swear, I knew that then.

Now, y'all are sitting there noddin' off like ain't none of the stuff I told you was important. But it'll come back, I promise. But for now, the stuff you've been waitin' for. Because this is where the girl comes in. 

Not twenty minutes after the fight, Mr. and Mrs. McMullen drove down the lane toward the house. I was around the front of the house pulling weeds when they pulled up. I saw the two of them get out of the car, and then Mr. McMullen opened the back door, and out of it came Miss Diamond. That's what I was supposed to call her, the same title of respect referrin' to all the family, and Miss Diamond was part of the family now. 

She was a tiny little thing, wearin' a plain, dirty dress and one shoe. Lookin' a good bit different from her new parents, Mrs. with her dress and gloves and Mr. with his tie and hat. The child's wild curly brown hair was in tangles and knots on her head and in her face, so I could barely see her face at all except her eyes. She had these big light eyes that stared wide at everything around her. The thing that struck me was her left sleeve, which was hanging slack, empty. She was the poster child for a poor little orphan girl.

I had been staring for just a second too long and been caught by Mrs. McMullen, who waved over to me.

Hey there, Tom! she yelled over to me. Wanna come here a second?

I knew better than to say no, so I got up from weedin', wiped the dirt from my hands, and walked over to the three of them. What a sight I must have been, all sweat and dirt on that hot day. And what a sight they were to me, the perfect southern couple and their new baby urchin.

I greeted 'em, as I should when I reached 'em. Howdy, there, Ma'am, I nodded to Mrs. McMullen, who smiled politely at me. Hello, Sir, I nodded to Mr. McMullen, who looked at the dirt on my person and never in my eyes. And you too, Ma'am. I looked down at Miss Diamond, and she looked back up at me with those big eyes and said nothin'. I had no idea what she might have been thinkin' 'cause she never gave anything away.

Tom, the Mrs. said, this is Diamond. We've just adopted her from a home in the city. She's coming to live with us, now.

Miss Diamond didn't move her gaze from me the whole time her new mamma was speakin'. I stayed lookin' at her, too. 

How d'ya do, Miss Diamond? I asked.

She waited for a second and said, Fine.

Mr. and Mrs. seemed surprised to hear her speak. I guess she hadn't been much of a talker on the drive home.

Well then, Mrs. said, We'll be getting her inside then. She's had a big day.

She sure has, I said, still in a staring contest with the kid. You're in good hands 'round here, Miss Diamond. I looked up and winked at Mrs. McMullen. Her husband had distracted himself with a small scratch on the car, and when Mrs. hurried Miss Diamond into the house with her, he followed, still saying nothing and never looking me in the eye.

Hmm? No, I don't know why he was like that. Kept to himself most times. No, I can promise you it wasn't about her. I'd been there for years, and he knew I wouldn't step out like that with Miss Betty. And in that specific situation, he was right. But you know that already, don't ya?

After that interaction, the way I understand it, Mrs. got the girl all cleaned up and introduced her to the siblin's: Miss Betty, Rodney who was twelve, the twins Imogen and Dolly, who were both nine, and little Billy, who was only seven. I was leavin' that afternoon just as it was happening, so I don't know what the introduction was like. All I knew was that things were gonna get a little more interestin' around the house.

***

2

A Long Overdue Visit

MONDAY, JULY 19, 1965. 09:16AM.

The tape cut out around there because as Tom Higgins finished the beginning of his story, the blood tests came back. And nobody felt the rest of the story was important. The case seemed pretty cut and dry without the extra time spent, one of the quickest closings all that year.

Detectives Isla Banks and Jerry Wild sat in an empty interrogation room in Montgomery, Alabama, looking between each other and the tape recorder on the table. They had just listened to an old testimony from a ten-year-old case, in which the detectives of Dothan asked a Mr. Tom Higgins to give his side of the story until they felt it was no longer necessary. When she'd read about the case the first time, Isla Banks had thought it unfair they never let him finish his story, whether the results seemed clear or not. But Lord, if it mattered to anyone important what she thought about it. 

Isla Banks had only been a detective officially for seven months, finally breaking through the ranks after working as a traffic cop for three years prior. Even then, it had been a complete fluke that they'd even considered her, but given that she had effectively solved a case using only clues that were so public knowledge they were in the newspaper, of all things, it became hard to ignore her. After that, Banks had gotten lucky that the Montgomery police department finally decided she was worthy of their time. Now, she was a real detective who had just been assigned to a newly reopened case with her partner, Jerry Wild.

The two of them had been put together the first time because the Captain thought they would be a balanced match: different enough that if one hadn't thought of something during an investigation, chances are the other would have. It had worked well for them so far. Wild, whose surname was the antithesis to his personality, was quite different from Banks in style and almost everything else. While Banks was quick and passionate and excitable, Wild was stern and mellow and often not as interested. Wild was only three years older than Banks, but he