Horror Among The White Oaks: The Strange Case of Roy Rickey: Part 2: The initial interview with Mr. Day

  According to Rickey, his wife was at home, and ascertaining where the family lived, Henderson started in that direction.

He was stopped by Deputy Stephens with: 

Deputy Sheriff Tony Stephens

“Coroner, everybody’s talking about this man Jim Andy Day. I understand he found the body.  He’s a boarder in the Rickey home and should know what caused little Roy to commit suicide – if he did commit suicide.  Don’t you think it would be a good idea to question him?  He’s over there.”

Henderson nodded and walked toward a short, stocky man, about five feet six inches tall, dressed in a pair of blue overalls.  As he drew near, he noticed the man’s face bore deep lines, which made him look older than he really was.

“Are you Jim Day?” asked the Coroner.

“Yes.”

“You found the body of little Roy Rickey hanging from the tree, Mr. Day?”

“Yes, sir, I found it this morning about six o-clock when I fetched the cow to the spring.”

“Where do you live, Mr. Day?”

“I stay up at the Rickeys,” the stocky man answered.

“When did you last see Roy?”

“Last Wednesday evening about five-o’clock, when his mother told him to take the cow to water.”

“Where were you then?”

“I was sitting in the front yard whittling.  Mrs. Rickey was in the house.”

“Have you any idea to the cause of Roy’s death?”

“No, I haven’t, Mr. Henderson.”

Deciding to leave further questioning of Jim Day until later, the Coroner climbed the narrow trail that led to the Rickey place.  Pushing his way through a gate which hung by one hinge to a post of the dilapidated picket fence, he made his way to the unpretentious Rickey home.

With the absence of ceremony common in these rural districts, Henderson crossed the porch and entered the small, unpainted house without knocking. Here he came upon three women who told him that they had called on Mrs. Rickey to tell her the sad news.  While he awaited the appearance of little Roy’s mother, his eye noted everything in the room.  He saw something which attracted his attention and was about to make an examination when a door opened and there stood before him a plump little woman in her late thirties, with black, sparking eyes, so arresting they were unforgettable.  The shining black hair, bobbed like a school-girl’s, and the olive complextion were such as would have provoked attention in communities more populous than Soldier.  Her chubby face, rather too well rouged, though now streaked by tears, and her carmined lips added to the impression that she was a woman who never stinted effort to look her best.

Her eyes were dimmed as the Coroner introduced himself and expressed his sympathy.

“I know how you feel, Mrs. Rickey, and I know how valueless attempts at consolation are, but I want you to try and put aside your feelings for the present, and help me find out just how little Roy came to his death.”

The woman dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as she asked him to follow her.  She then led the way through the kitchen out into the back yard.  Here they sat down on a bench at some distance from the house.