Page 12 of Again with Feeling

But Candy spoke over me. “You’ve got to come inside so I can tell youeverything.”

And without missing a beat, she looped her arm through Bobby’s and towed him toward the house. Bobby cast a backward glance at me, and I wanted to callhisexpression restrained you’re-going-to-pay-for-this.

Candy led us into the kitchen, which was, thankfully, free of any sign of her shotgun-toting father. It was a small, white space, and the only color came from the mauve-colored roses on the curtains and a Formica table that had to be at least fifty years old and was the same shade of green as a stick of chewing gum. Frillytea towels hung from the oven door’s handle. A polyester mat on the table supported a vase of dusty plastic flowers. A cross-stitch sampler hung above the sink with the words TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART. It might have been kitsch in the right hands, but instead, it felt like someone had died, and they hadn’t cleaned out the house yet. The dirty dishes in the sink, and their sour smell, were part of that.

“Sit down, sit down,” Candy said, waving at the Formica table and the matching chrome-legged chairs. “Let me get you something to drink.”

“We’re all right,” Bobby said.

“You have to have something to drink. I can make you coffee.”

She bent to inspect a lower cabinet, which made the kimono do problematic things.

“We’re really fine,” I said. “And we don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

Candy fixed her gaze on me. “I was being polite.”

“We’ll have coffee,” Bobby said.

She didn’t actually sniff or shake a finger at me, but her message of disapproval came through loud and clear.

It wasn’t until we were all seated around the table with cups of truly subpar Folger’s that Candy said, “You’re here to prove Vivienne killed him, aren’t you? Mind if I smoke?”

“Actually—” I began.

But instead of a cigarette, she took out a vape pen and drew hard on it. The resulting vapor, which smelled like, well, candy, immediately took up residence in my skull in the form of a newborn headache.

“Why do you think we’re here to prove Vivienne killed your brother?” Bobby asked.

“Because shekilledhim.” Candy’s gaze moved to me. “And because he already proved she killed all those other people.”

“Could you explain that?” I asked. “It’s still not clear to me why anyone thinks Vivienne had anything to do with this.”

Candy took another puff of the vape and said, “I told the police all this.”

“I know, but it’d be helpful to hear it again.”

“They thought it was great stuff. They wrote it all down.”

“Uh.” Genius struck, and I took out my phone. “I hope I have your permission to record this session.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded, and I got the sense that Candy Yamamoto was wondering how a bozo like me had managed to catch Vivienne in the first place.

After I’d started recording, I said, “Could you explain this to us the way you explained it to the police?”

Candy sprang into action. “The first thing you’ve got to understand is that nobody really knows Viv. I mean, everybody thinks they do. They see this big-name author lady, and they see her in her fancy dresses and with her hair done and those fake nails, and they figure that’s who she is. But they don’t know the real Viv. Everybody falls for the act, you know?”

I almost—but not quite—said,Noteverybody.

“See, Viv’s only ever cared about one thing: herself. As long as she’s been alive, she’s been focused on taking care of number one, and she never cared who got hurt in the process.” She played with the vape. “Look at Neil.”

“Who’s Neil?” Bobby asked.

Bobby got a dose of Candy’s look too before she said, “Neil Carver. Herex-husband.”

I mean, part of me had understood that, at some point, Vivienne had been married—she’d been Mrs. Vivienne Carver, after all. But I’d always assumed that Mr. Carver had gone wherever husbands who were inconvenient to the plot go. (Heaven, presumably?)

“Neil’s just the sweetest man on two legs,” Candy continued, “and Viv couldn’t even hang on to him. It’s because she’s so cold. Some girls are like that, you know? They don’t know how to have fun.” At that point, Bobby got a very different kind of look from Candy, and she took a lot of time uncrossing her legs and crossing them again. “It’s a shame, too, because Neil’s a catch, too. He and Dad still go fishing. Can you believe that?”

---