Page 13 of Again with Feeling

“You still see Mr. Carver?” I said.

“Yeah, of course.” And then, in a tone meant to suggest it was no big deal, she added, “He takes me to lunch, too. I think that’s pretty sweet, don’t you?”

I thought about how I’d feel if Hugo still wanted to go hunting with my dad or take my mom out to lunch. The politest phrase was probablyblow a gasket.

“Very sweet,” I said. “Did he—”

“He could have donemuchbetter for himself,” Candy said. “He wasverypopular in high school, and nobody can figure out why he stuck with Viv.”

“So, they were—” I tried.

“It’s because he and Richard were best friends, of course,” Candy said over me. “And Neil’s such a sweetheart. Once he realized what a cold fish Viv was, he was in too deep. He stuck it out as long as he could, I guess.”

“Neil and Richard were best friends?” Bobby asked.

“They were all friends, the four of them, ever since they were in high school. Richard and Jane, and Neil and Viv. They were going together the whole time. They even wanted to get married on the same day, only Jane got cold feet, and that’s why Richard and Jane got married later.” Candy took another puff, and the sickly sweet vapor rolled over me. “Don’t get me started onher,” she said, which was apparently preamble for, well, getting started. “Jane never knows when she has a good thing. She and Richard werealwaysfighting. I mean, I don’t think that’sright, do you? It’s the woman’s job to make her husband happy.” She leaned forward and laid her hand over Bobby’s. Red nails scratched lightly at his knuckles. “Don’t you think?”

Bobby pulled his hand away—politely—and said, “So, Jane is Richard’s widow?”

This time, annoyance flickered in Candy’s expression. “That’s right.” And then, as though Bobby had somehow missed something obvious, she added, “I’m divorced, you know.Heleftme.”

Somehow—barely—I managed to turn my laugh into a cough.

Bobby’s sneaker connected with my ankle, and my cough turned into a yelp. His voice was as untroubled as a baby’s bathwater (is that an expression?) when he said, “You mentioned arguments. Do you know what Richard and Jane were fighting about?”

“Sex. It’s always sex. Or money, I guess, but they didn’t have to worry about that. Richard had a good job at the cannery.”

As any number of mystery novels or true crime TV shows (hello,Dateline) will tell you, a good job and a healthy income have never been obstacles to arguments about money. But I decided to follow up on Candy’s obvious bait. “Was Richard having an affair?”

“What? God, no. Richard never evenlookedat another woman. He loved Jane. It was Jane. She was having an affair.”

The whisper of a footfall made me glance at the hall that led off from the kitchen, but I couldn’t see anyone. I hadn’t imagined the sound, though, and when I caught Bobby’s eye, I could tell he’d heard it too.

“Do you know that for a fact?” Bobby asked.

“Of course.”

“Who was Jane having an affair with?”

Candy opened her mouth to fire off the answer. Then color rushed into her cheeks, and she faltered. “I don’t know. Not exactly. But shewas.”

“That sounds like a motive,” I said.

“God, no,” Candy said. “She never would have hurt Richard. Besides, she wasn’t even home that night. See, they had a big fight, and she left.” As Candy spoke, her tone changed—the gossipy thrill became more subdued, and her account began to sound formulaic. Either rehearsed, I thought, or memorized. “When she came home the next day, Richard was gone. The money, too.”

“The money?” Bobby asked.

“They always kept some money in the house. A few thousand dollars, you know. Richard said it was for emergencies. Anyway, the money was gone. So, Jane came over here—”

“She checked the money first?” I asked. “Before coming over here?”

The question interrupted Candy’s flow, and she seemed off balance for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.” She picked up the thread before I could interrupt again. “She came over here, but none of us had seen him—”

“Were you home that night?” I asked.

“Daddy was taking care of Mommy. She was super sick by then, so by the time she fell asleep, he was exhausted.”

“Right, but wereyouhome?”

---