Page 43 of Again with Feeling

“Explain yourself.”

“No,youexplain yourself. I’ve spent the last few days trying to put together a story that’s thirty years old, Vivienne, and being uncomfortably aware that everyone in your family seems to have a reason to lie to me. You didn’t bother telling me that your ex-husband is still very much a part of the family. You didn’t bother mentioning your little group of friends. You didn’t tell me your ex had married Richard’s widow, or that Jane was having an affair, or that nobody can account for Candy’s whereabouts that night. You didn’t tell me that someone would try to kill me, and let me tell you, I’m sick and tired—”

“What do you mean, someone tried to kill you? What happened?”

“Someone ran me off the road and then tried to finish the job with a gun.”

“Are you all right?”

I ignored the question. “So, why don’t we try this again: is there anything you want to tell me about Richard’s disappearance? Anything you think I should know?”

The quality of the call wasn’t great; in the background, the connection crackled, and static flared.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“I don’t know, Vivienne.” I glanced around, cupped my hand around the phone, and whispered furiously, “How about, ‘Yes, Jane was cheating on Richard, and it was with me.’”

Nothing. Into the silence of our conversation came the sounds of a city still busily alive: a family emerged from a shop down the street, the little girl talking excitedly about the kite she’d just gotten; Cyd Wofford zipped by on his bike and rang the bell in greeting; Althea Wilson roared around the corner in a boat of a Cadillac and nearly took out a newspaper box. (They were part of the tourist schtick, not real newspapers, although it was fun to see what Jemitha Green came up with every week.)

And then Vivienne made a faint sound.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Is it true?”

“All this time,” she said, “someone knew.” She gave a strange laugh. “Who?”

“So, it is true.”

Her voice gained strength. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t think that was important?”

“No, Dashiell—Dash. No, I didn’t. Because it wasn’t important. Jane wouldn’t have killed Richard. She loved Richard.”

“But she was sleeping with you.”

“Yes.”

But she didn’t say anything else.

“Do you know what I should have asked you when you got me started on this idiotic search?” I said.

“Where was I the night Richard died?”

“That’s right. What’s your alibi, Vivienne? Because I’ve got to admit, Candy doesn’t make a particularly compelling case—the nonsense about the money, about you leaving for Portland, your arguments with Richard. But when she told me about you and Jane, well, things started to take on a different light.”

“I never would have hurt my brother.”

“Everyone keeps telling me how much they loved Richard. Jane loved him, but she was sleeping with you. You loved him, but you were sleeping with his wife. Neil was his best friend, but now Neil’s wearing Richard’s jewelry and living in Richard’s house and has basically taken over Richard’s life. Hell, everyone tells me Neil is the son Arlen never had. Even Candy claims she loved Richard, but then it turns out she thinks he ruined her life. So, the problem, Vivienne, is that I’m not sure anyone loved Richard. He sounded like an unhappy, troubled man, who in the last year of his life was causing a lot of problems for the people around him. It’s easy to talk about how much you love someone when he hasn’t been around for the last thirty years to make your life more difficult.”

I waited for the reaction—the denial, the insistence, maybe even the shouting. Instead, I thought I heard Vivienne swallow, and then she asked, “He’s wearing Richard’s jewelry?”

The question caught me off guard. “A bracelet,” I said. “I saw it in the photo you sent me. Neil was wearing it the other day.”

“I see.” But her voice sounded numb.

I found myself suddenly adrift in the conversation—without the friction of her resistance to give it direction. After another silent moment, I tried to soften my voice. “Vivienne, I understand that you grew up in a different time. I know things weren’t the same. But the world is different now, and whatever happened between you and Jane, it was a long time ago. Youtrusted me to try to find whoever killed your brother. For heaven’s sake,I’mgay. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

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