A Gathering of Old Men by Ernest J. Gaines

Now what I was trying to figure out was who in Marshall Quarters could—not would—kill Beau Boutan. There were nothing but old people there. The young ones had all gone away, leaving only the old and a few children. So who could do it? Not Charlie. Too many times I had seen Beau speak to him as you would speak to a dog, and he would not raise his head, let alone his voice. Then who? Janey was too hysterical to make any sense over the telephone when I called the house. All she could say was hurry up and get there because Candy needed me. Candy needed me? I had been knowing Candy for three years, and during all that time I had never known her to need anybody.

I drove the thirty-five miles from Baton Rouge to Marshall in exactly thirty minutes. Why I didn’t have every highway patrolman in the state of Louisiana on my tail was just a miracle. When I came up even with Marshall House, I saw the Major’s and Miss Merle’s cars in the yard. Candy’s big LTD was not on the lawn in front of the door, so I figured she was still in the quarters where Janey had said she was.