The day following the inquest, Prosecuting Attorney McGill, Coroner Henderson, and Deputy Sheriff Stephens discussed the case together. Suspicion naturally centered on the father whom they believed might have killed his young son unintentionally during one of his severe beatings.
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said the Coroner, “but I’ll not be satisfied until I learn just what the setup in that household has been. I didn’t tell you, but when old man Rickey told me about Jim Day being a boarder, there was something in his voice that suggested things.”
“That so?” commented McGill. “Why don’t you work at it from that angle and let Tony see what he can dig up at the place where the body was found.”
Deputy Stephens went immediately to what had become known as the “death mound” near the abandoned mine. Dropping on his knees, he went over the ground under the tree from which the body had been suspended. He found drops of blood on the blades of grass, but what interested him most were some footprints impressed heavily into the loose gravel leading from the tree to the entrance of the mine. He followed these carefully and they led to the opening where he saw more bloodstains. Footprints from the same shoe backtracked from the mine to the death mound. Deputy Stephens measured these carefully and made a note of the size.
There being nothing further that seemed of value, he made his way toward the Rickey home, feeling sure that he would find Coroner Henderson there. However, hoping to obtain information that might help, he stopped at various homes in the vicinity and made inquiries about the Rickey family, Jim Andy Day, and the strange crime at the death mound.
There was much gossip, he found, concerning the relations of Jim Andy Day and Mrs. Rickey. Also, a neighbor of the Rickeys, Mrs. Hattie Binion, revealed that on various occasions Clyde Rickey had whipped his boy brutally with heavy boards, even going so far as to fell him to the ground.
Meeting the Coroner, Stephens told him of his discovery of the tracks between the mound and the mouth of the mine. He also related the gossip he had heard concerning Jim Andy Day and Mrs. Rickey.
“I’ll tell you what you do, Tony,” said Henderson. “I’m going to call upon Mrs. Rickey again and question her. I wish you’d see the Reverend Richard Short, who I understand, conducted a prayer meeting in the Rickey home the Friday night before the body of the boy was found.”
Coroner Henderson had not forgotten that on his first visit he had seen a pallet made of quilts lying on the floor of one of the rooms. The quilts had been soiled by dark stains and he wanted, among other things, to satisfy his curiosity about them.
When he met Mrs. Rickey, one of his first questions was:
“Who made up that pallet in the front room that I saw when I was here before?”
“One of the men”, she answered.
“Which one?” persisted the Coroner.
“I don’t remember,” was the woman’s reply.
“There were bloodstains on those quilts, Mrs. Rickey,” said the officer severely. “Where did they come from?”
“I don’t know nothing about it,” she answered sulkily.
“Where does Mr. Rickey work?”
“At the brick-yard. He goes to work about five o’clock every evening.”
“Did he work last Friday night?”
“No.”
“That was the night you had a prayer meeting here, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Clyde laid off for prayer meeting.”
“Did you go to bed after the guests left?”
“No, me and Jim Andy went out and looked for Roy,” she said resentfully, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
Henderson studied the dark-eyed woman as he carefully framed the next question.
“Mrs. Rickey, you and Jim Andy like each other pretty well, don’t you?”
“Yes, I guess we do. There’s nothing wrong in that , is there?”
The Coroner ignored the question and continued in an accusing tone.
“Roy must have been in the way a lot, when you and Jim Andy wanted to be alone, wasn’t he?”
The woman made no answer.
He decided to startle her into an admission of some kind. Starting to his feet and pointing a finger at the black-eyed mother, he said sternly:
“You’re lying Mrs. Rickey. I know you’re lying. You know Roy did not commit suicide. You or Jim Andy Day killed him because he was in your way. You were having a love affair with Jim and you were afraid that Roy would tell.”
Mrs. Rickey drew back aghast, stunned by the vehemence of Henderson’s words. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak. Finally she said, almost in a whisper:
“Mr. Henderson, that’s not so. I loved Roy as if he was my own child.”
“Your own child?” repeated the surprised official. “You mean you were not Roy’s real mother?”
“I’m his stepmother,” she faltered. Then, her voice gaining strength, she continued:
“Jim Andy isn’t a bad man. He just boards here and helps pay expenses.”
“If Jim Andy isn’t a bad man, then who killed Roy, Mrs. Rickey? Why don’t you tell me the whole truth?”
“I’ve told you all I know, Mr. Henderson.”
“And you still think your stepchild committed suicide?”
“yes.”
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