Murder Takes a Break (16 page)

It wasn't much of a place.
 
The house was old, but it wasn't charming.
 
In fact, it was pretty dilapidated.
 
The steps sagged, and the Gulf Coast crud had eaten away at the paint and shingles.
 
The yard was ragged, and the sidewalk was cracked and uneven.
 
Christmas lights were strung along the gutter over the porch, and they blinked feebly in the twilight.

"I tried to get her to let me set her up in a better place," Dino said when we got out of my truck.
 
"She wouldn't take the money."

The sky was darkening, and thick clouds were coming in from the Gulf.
 
A damp breeze made it seem almost cold, and I could hear the shushing of the surf in the wind.

"She wants to make it on her own," I said.
 
"You should understand that."

"I do.
 
It's just that I want to help her."

She didn't want his help, and he should have understood that, too, but I didn't want to bring it up.
 
We were there to talk about a party, not to improve his family relationships.
 
I wasn't Dr. Laura.

"There's a light on up there," I said, "so she's probably at home."

"Yeah."

"You go first," I said, and he went to the side of the house where there was a staircase leading upward.
 
He put a foot on the first step as if to test it.

"Haven't you been here before?" I asked.

"Just once.
 
Evelyn brought me over right after Sharon moved in.
 
I don't trust these steps."

"They'll hold you.
 
Come on."

I went past him and up the steps.
 
They seemed solid enough to me, though they creaked a little.
 
I could hear Dino behind me, so I didn't look back.

At the top of the stairs there was a small landing, not much more than three feet square.
 
I stood on it and knocked on the screen door.

A light came on, and I looked into the kitchen through the glass door top.
 
Sharon was coming toward me across a worn and cracked yellow linoleum floor that had probably been laid down fifty years previously.

She looked better than the last time I'd seen her, but the circumstances had been quite different.
 
None of us had looked too good then.

She snapped on an outside light, looked out at me.
 
She was obviously surprised, and when she saw Dino standing on the step just below the landing, her eyes widened even more.
 
She threw a deadbolt on the door, unlatched the screen, and pushed it open.
 
I should have said something about the security value of a deadbolt on a door that was half glass, but I didn't want to upset Dino.

"What are you two doing here?" Sharon asked, as if she didn't know.
 
She knew, though.
 
I was sure of that.

"Tru wants to talk to you," Dino said.
 
"Can we come in?"

She stepped aside to make room for us to come through the door.

"Sure," she said.
 
"Come on in.
 
Welcome to my happy home."

We went into the kitchen.
 
The countertops were in worse shape than the linoleum.
 
The porcelain on the side of the sink was cracked, and a big rusty spot was developing.
 
The tiny refrigerator and stove were practically antiques, and I could see a couple of roach traps along the baseboard.
 
The table was small and square with a red formica top.
 
Around it were four chairs with curved steel frames and red vinyl seats and backs.

"Have a seat," Sharon said.
 
"We can talk in here."

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," I said, taking one of the chairs.

She shrugged and sat opposite me.
 
"I was just watching
The Simpsons
, but it was a rerun."

Dino sat beside her.
 
"Tru wants to talk to you about that party.
 
The one I called about last night."

Sharon looked at me.
 
"He said you'd want to know about it.
 
I guess I should have talked to the cops before now."

"No you shouldn't," Dino said.

"'We don't go to the police,'" I said to Sharon.
 
"Ever hear that one before?"

Sharon almost smiled.
 
But not quite.
 

I've heard it more than once," she said.
 
"Look, Mr. Smith, I —"

"Wait," I said.
 
"Let's just make it 'Tru,' all right?"

"I . . . guess so.
 
It's just that I'm a little uncomfortable talking to you."

I didn't blame her.
 
If our positions had been reversed, I'd have been uncomfortable, too.
 
Our last meeting hadn't been exactly under the best of conditions.

"Don't worry about it," I said.
 
"Anything that happened was a long time ago.
 
We've all changed since then.
 
I've forgotten all about it."

I'd never forget it, but she didn't have to know that.
 
Dino knew, though.
 
I could tell by the way he was looking at me, but he was smart enough not to say anything.

"I wish none of that had ever happened," Sharon said.
 
"I'm not proud of it."

"It's over and done.
 
I'm not interested in the past.
 
Well, not that particular past.
 
I'm more interested in what happened during spring break."

"I don't mind telling you about that, but I didn't do anything.
 
I didn't really know that girl who died."

"Kelly Davis," I said.
 
"That was her name."

"Like I said, I didn't really know her.
 
She was with some guy, a football player.
 
I didn't know him, either."

"Randall Kirbo," I said.

She thought about it.
 
"I guess that was his name.
 
There were lots of guys there."

I showed her Randall Kirbo's picture.
 
"Him?"

"Yes, for sure."

"His name's Randall Kirbo.
 
What about one named Chad Peavy?"

"I remember that name, too.
 
I'm not sure which one he was."

"Another football player.
 
He remembers you.
 
There were a couple of others that you might have met.
 
Patrick Mullen and Travis Bittner."

"I don't think so."

"It's not important right now.
 
What I want you to tell me is what happened at that party."

"I don't remember much about it."
 
She looked at Dino. "Why don't you go in the other room and see what's on TV?"

Dino wasn't much of a father, but he could take a hint.
 
He stood up and said, "Do you have cable in this place?"

"That's about the only luxury I allow myself," Sharon said.
 
"You can watch just about anything you're interested in.
 
I get three different shopping channels."

"I hope that damn 'juiceman' isn't on," Dino said, as he headed for the living room.

I found it hard to believe that someone who watched that manic exercise-machine pitch man could object to someone who sold juice, but maybe Dino just didn't like juice.
 

When he was gone and I could hear the TV from the other room, I said, "Now that he's gone, tell me why your memory seems a little impaired."

She looked over her shoulder as if to assure herself that Dino wasn't listening from the other room.
 
When she turned back to me, there was a concerned look on her face.

"I want to help you," she said.
 
"I guess maybe I feel like I owe it to you.
 
But there's something you have to promise me."

I thought I knew what she wanted to hear.
 
"Private detectives are like priests.
 
Whatever you say to me is absolutely confidential.
 
I won't even tell Dino."

"He might try to make you."

"You don't know Dino very well if you believe that."

"I
don't
know him very well.
 
That's the point.
 
And I don't want him going all fatherly on me."

"I'll keep him in line," I said, with more confidence than I felt.
 
Obviously I wasn't the one who could predict what Dino might do.

But Sharon seemed to believe me.
 
She said, "He was worried about me and about the drinking and drugs at that party.
 
I might have exaggerated a little bit when I told him about it."

"How?" I asked.

"I didn't do any drugs.
 
I told the truth about that, but I drank more than I told him.
 
I wasn't drunk or anything, but I'd had more than just a glass of wine.
 
So I don't really remember everything too well.
 
I was worried about a term paper, and I guess I thought a few drinks would loosen me up."

"Did they?"

She laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it.
 
I wondered how the term paper had turned out.

"I got pretty loose, all right," she said.
 
"So loose, I wasn't even sure where I was for a while."

"But you saw Kelly Davis and Randall Kirbo together."

"I know I saw her.
 
I know I even spent some time talking to her and some boy.
 
It's what happened after that I'm not sure of."

"What do you think happened?"

"There were some things going on upstairs," she said.

"What things?"

"That's where the drugs were."

Her eyes shifted, and I thought there might be more to it than that, but I couldn't figure out what.

"What kinds of drugs?
 
Anything dangerous?"

"Ecstasy, I think.
 
That can be weird.
 
And pot, but that's all.
 
Nothing really dangerous."

I was disappointed.
 
I was hoping that the death of Kelly Davis could be tied into some kind of illegal substance.
 
That would explain why Big Al was so eager to keep things quiet, and why Henry J. was paying visits to everyone involved.

Except Sharon.
 
Something wasn't quite right here.

"You know Henry J.?" I asked.

She looked wary.
 
"I've heard of him."

"Was he there that night?"

"Why should he have been?"

"Because he works for Big Al Pugh, and the party was at one of her beach houses."

"I wouldn't know about that," Sharon said.
 
"Nobody said whose house it was."

I wasn't sure I believed that.

"So you didn't see Henry J.?"

"I don't think so."

"And he hasn't been around to see you since the party?"

"No.
 
Why should he want to see me?"

"Because he might not like the idea of you talking about what went on there that night.
 
Are you sure you didn't see him?
 
He's older than any of the kids who were there, and probably bigger.
 
His nose has been broken a lot."

More now than then, I thought.

"I might have seen somebody like that.
 
I'm not sure.
 
I was pretty wrecked, like I said."

"What about those drugs you mentioned?
 
Who provided them?
 
Could it have been Henry J.?"

"I don't think so.
 
The drugs were just there, the way they are, you know?"

I didn't know, not really.
 
Drug use hadn't been quite that casual when I was Sharon's age.

"How often do you go to parties like that one?" I asked.

"Not often.
 
And I don't drink that much, either.
 
It was just a one-time thing."
 
She smiled.
 
"You sound more like my father than Dino does."

"I don't mean to.
 
I worry about people sometimes."

"Thanks, but you don't have to worry about me.
 
I'm doing all right."