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'It don't none of it make no sense at all', said Becca. it don't really matter what we believe. It don'tmake no sense. If it made sense, they wouldn't write about it in the
Montgomery Advertiser,
would they? If there was a explanation, we wouldn't have read about it in the paper this morning.'

'This afternoon', said Sarah, dry -eyed, 'after work, you gone take me to see the sheriff. And we gone talk to him, just talk, and I'm gone ask him about the amulet. I'm not gone tell him what we think, I'm just gone ask him if he's seen it. And if he sees it again, then I'm gone tell him to get it, and give it to me.'

'You think he's gone believe you?'

'I don't care. But we got to do something. We'll see what he says, and if we have to, we'll goto that poor little coloured girl's funeral tomorrow.'

For another few minutes the two women watched the muddy swirling waters of Burnt Corn Creek as it ate away at the clay banks, and then they returned to the assembly line of the Pine Cone Munitions Factory.

'I was meaning to talk to you anyway', said Sheriff Garrett to Sarah Howell and Becca Blair late that Friday afternoon.

On the way home from work the two women had been trying to screw their courage up to see the sheriff, when they had seen his cruiser parked in front of his house. Garrett himself had been standing in the bushes in front of his picture window, turning on the sprinkler. Becca pulled the Pontiac up behind the cruiser, and the two women hesitantly got out of the car. The sheriff waved to them, and moved cautiously around the circular fountain of water.

'What'd you want to talk to us about?' said Becca, trying to put off the evil hour of speaking to the sheriff about the amulet.

'This necklace you were looking for...'

Both women trembled. 'How'd you know about that?' Sarah faltered.

'Mai Homans told me.'

The women stared at the sheriff blankly. The name meant nothing to them.

'Mai Homans was Jim Coltrane's brother-in-law, the man that Morris Emmons killed. Homans told me you was out looking for a necklace...'

Sarah nodded hesitantly. 'That's right. Morris Emmons must have told him, 'cause I told Morris Emmons about it.'

The sheriff cocked his head curiously, evidently wanting to ask Sarah why she had gone to Morris Emmons about a missing piece of jewellery, but instead, he continued with his story. 'Well, this necklace - and it seems real peculiar to me - was in the pig's mouth that went and killed Merle Weaver—'

Sarah and Becca both gasped, but the sheriff went on. 'Fell out of the pig's mouth. Mai Homans and Jim Coltrane took that necklace - after Emmons told 'em that you was looking for it, Sarah - and went and put it round Emmons's head. Then

Emmons come out front in the store, and blew Jim Coltrane to kingdom come.'

Becca and Sarah nodded dismally; they had heard this part of the story.

'I mean', said the sheriff, eyeing the women closely, but not with any hostility, 'don't all of that seem peculiar? You don't shckrt somebody because of a practical joke, and putting a necklace round somebody's neck don't seem much of a joke anyway, does it?'

Becca and Sarah shook their heads.

'I was just wondering if you knew anything about all this? I mean', said the sheriff with a furrowed brow, 'you was looking for a necklace, Sarah, said it belonged to you, so how did it come to be in the mouth of a marauding pig?'

'Where is it now?' asked Sarah. 'Did you find it?' She realised that this was a senseless question, since it had obviously already passed on to poor Audrey Washington, and heaven only knew where it was by this time.

The sheriff shook his head. it probably got mashed up in the baling machine with the rest of Morris Emmons.'

Sarah shook her head. 'No, it didn't.'

The sheriff looked at her quizzically, and then Sarah recounted to him the history of the amulet, how it had got from the Coppages all the way through to Morris Emmons. She did not say anything about Jo and Dean, except that it was Jo that had given the piece to Larry Coppage in the first place. Sarah told it carefully for she had gone over it many times in her mind, and was able to prove, sufficiently for the sheriff;that indeed the amulet had been present at each of the deaths in question.

'But', she concluded, 'I don't know how it got from Morris Emmons to Audrey Washington. Audrey fits right in the pattern' - the sheriff nodded reluctantly - 'but I just cain't figure out how she come by it.'

'Johnny Washington gave it to her', said the sheriff quietly. 'He saw Morris Emmons die. He was out there at Mr Crane's place, and he must have picked it up off the ground, and carried it to Audrey.'

Sarah winced. There was now no doubt that Audrey Washington and Ralph Taylor were the latest links in the ever-lengthening chain.

'You believe us then', said Becca simply.

'I don't think so', said Garrett after a moment. 'I mean I believe you about following this thing around. You wouldn't lie to me about something like that. You saw it, or you talked to people who saw it. I can go and ask 'em myself. And I will. There's something real peculiar about all of this, and if it's that thing that you're talking about that's causing it all, then maybe if we can find it, we can stop it.'

Sarah explained that she had gone by Johnny Washington's that afternoon, but had not been able to talk to him. She had also not gone to the funeral home, and apologised for her cowardice.

'It's all right', said Garrett kindly. You let me do that. It's easier for me. They're not gone object to me talking to Johnny Washington about that piece of jewellery. I'll find it, if it's there.'

Sarah started to weep with relief. It meant much - it meant everything in the world - to have some of this burden lifted from her. Now there was someone else fighting. Few the second time that day, Becca placed a comforting arm around her friend's shoulders.

The sheriff talked on, in a low, respectful voice. 'It's sort of a relief to hear it. All these people dying in the past two weeks got on my nerves, I tell you. It was bad to have to go out yesterday and look at Jim Coltrane and Morris Emmons, and then I come back into town, sitting down to supper, and I get this call that says that Audrey Washington done gone and stuck Graham Taylor's little boy in the washing machine, and then has killed herself with aradio plug.' He shookhis head. 'I don't believe all this that you're telling me, but at least it's something that I can go on, it's something I can do.'

Sarah nodded gratefully.

'I'm gone go by and speak to Johnny Washington tonight, and I'll talk to Washington Garver too, see if that girl had the thing on when they brought her in. We can find it', he added reassuringly. 'You call me up tomorrow morning, and I'll probably be able to tell you that I 've located the thing. ..'

'Sheriff', cried Sarah, 'you find it, and you
kill
it.'

'Just tell me one thing', said Garrett. 'Where'd Jo Howell get hold of a thing like that?'

'It weren't Montgomery Ward', snapped Becca

When Sarah returned home after the small but infinitely reassuring talk with the sheriff, she was in a mood which, in comparison with what she had felt for the past ten days, might be considered exultant. She had wondered whether she should tell Jo the progress of the search for the amulet, but decided against this and the short term pleasure of what Becca had called 'sticking it to the old witch'. There would be more to gain in keeping Jo in suspense. In any case, Jo wasn't going to reveal anything, and Sarah didn't want the woman to make any attempt to upset the sheriff's investigations. In parting, Sarah had assured Garrett that there would be no use at all in talking to Jo, that she apparently knew nothing about the amulet, and that she had given it to Larry Coppage because Rachel had once admired it. This was not the truth, but Sarah was afraid that if the sheriff talked to Jo, the old woman would convince him that the whole business about the amulet was nonsense - and the sheriff's belief, Sarah thought, was what had saved her life.

'D'you hear about that little baby? D'you hear about the cotton baler?' cried Jo, as soon as Sarah stepped foot into Dean's bedroom. Sarah was surprised by Jo's nervousness. The other deaths had not affected her in this way.

'I heard', said Sarah cautiously. 'They were talking about it at the plant. There was something about it in the paper this morning.'

'D'you bring me a copy of that paper?'

Sarah smiled briefly with wondering what was now pushing Jo. 'No, I didn't. I didn't know you wanted to see it. It didn't tell much though.'

'Well', demanded Jo, 'what'd you hear at the plant?'

Briefly, Sarah told her what had happened at Mr Crane's farm and on Graham Taylor's back porch the previous day. But she gave no indication that the amulet was present at both places, and did not even mention it as a possibility. She was careful to speak of the deaths as accidents unrelated except in their barrenness of motive. Sarah watched Dean as she talked, and tried to detect motion in the figure on the bed, but could not.

'What you think of all that?' said Jo hesitantly, and with averted eyes.

'I don't think anything about it', said Sarah quietly. 'I think it's real bad what happened. Don't like to hear of people killing, getting killed. Who does, Jo?'

Jo leaned back in her chair, and said nothing else. Sarah noted with satisfaction that the woman seemed distraught, and puzzled. Sarah waited several moments for the woman to say something else, to give herself away further. But she said nothing. Sarah then wondered if she shouldn't continue herself, perhaps just mention the amulet in passing, but decided against that too. It would be best to wait for what the sheriff had to say in the morning. There would be time then to confront Jo, and maybe by then there would be hard evidence. Maybe if the amulet were destroyed - and what happy news that would be - there would not be any need for a confrontation at all.

Sarah slept soundly that night, and though there were nightmares that woke her soon after dawn, she could not remember them. She worked about the house, got Jo and Dean their breakfasts, and was just wondering how early she might telephone the sheriff, when Garrett himself called. Sarah took the call in the kitchen, well away from Jo and Dean on the far side of the house.

'Went over to see Johnny Washington last night. He's in bad shape, wasn't that bad off when he knifed his brother-in-law. And I talked to him, and he said he
did
find that thing, and he brought it to Audrey not thirty minutes 'fore she went and stuck that poor little baby in the washing machine.'

'Did she have it on her?'

'Well, then I went over to see Washington Garver, and he said she didn't have no kind of jewellery on her, except two cheap dime-store rings, and them he gave back to Johnny to keep 'em as souvenirs.'

'So we still don't know where it is?'

'No', said Garrett, 'we don't. You let me think about this awhile. You know, the girl had it when she killed that baby. And

Morris Emmons had it when he shot Jim Coltrane. And that's enough. That's too much. We'll find it, just incase. I don't want to have to go find any more bodies.'

'No...' agreed Sarah.

'But listen', said the sheriff sternly, 'I don't want you doing nothing else. You been chasing 'round this town, and you let me work on it for a little while. This thing could be dangerous, and you ought to let me handle it. You stay home, take it easy, keep company with Dean. He'll appreciate it, and I'll call you soon as I know anything.'

Sarah thanked the sheriff and hung up. She was much disappointed that the amulet had not been found, but she was also very glad that she had been commanded to give over the search. She didn't want to have to think of it any longer. She did not allow herself to imagine that there would be another death. Right now she had to rest, had to ease her mind of this great burden. Maybe if she just took this weekend and thought it all through again she could come up with an answer. Maybe Josephine Howell, overwhelmed with guilt, would give in to her and tell how to stop the devastation. Maybe, Sarah thought, Burnt Com Creek would rise, and just wash them all away.

It was eleven o'clock in the mprning on a hot, dusty, still day in Pine Cone. The wind whipped clouds of red dust up from the parking lots and threw it in the faces of countrywomen who had just arrived in town for an afternoon of gossip and shopping. The hours were relaxed and lazy and passed with a frightening slowness. No matter how much food you had for breakfast, all you could think of was, how long is it before dinner? The drawing was three hours away, but already the town was packed.

Shopkeepers were in an emotional quandary. No time is so sweet for fishing as Saturday morning, but they were behind their counters with ties and white shirts that were damp-stained across the shoulder blades. It would be an easy thing to be nasty to the customers for keeping them inside on such a hot day, when you just knew exactly where the fish would be, swimming slowly among the roots in a grove of cypress. But this was a day when all the county came to town, men and women whose dollar bills had been counted again and again, for whom a pair of socks was a major purchase, and a new dress was to be thought of only on Easter and birthdays. It was not possible to resent these good, hard men and women, with their dusty, barefooted children, whose lives were so difficult. And so the shopkeepers sweated and smiled, and sighed at the end of the day, wondering if the receipts (which often totalled as much as the other five days put together) were worth having to watch the sun make its slow progress across the sky, and miss the best fishing of the week.