Page 101 of Last Girl Standing

“Some of the mothers, too. The way they looked at Tanner? You could just see it. They were as giddy as kids.” He paused, as if waiting for McCrae to fill the void, but when that didn’t happen, added, “Bailey’s mom couldn’t take her eyes off him.”

McCrae said uncomfortably, “Mrs. Quintar was dating Principal Kiefer.” And now they’re married.

“But she hadn’t settled on Ron at that time. That was later. You know they broke up and got back together after Bailey died?”

“Yes.”

“Well, before all that, she was playing the field. So was Ron, come to that. Dated both Clarice Billings and Anne Reade for a time.”

“I hadn’t heard that.”

“Well, he was awkward as hell. Basically just called them up and asked them on dates, and if they said no, he pinned them down on when they were free and kept at it till he basically wore them down and they said okay. Didn’t get the signals or didn’t care. I’ve talked to both Billings and Reade. They both said he was hard to say no to. Never thought he’d get back with Bailey’s mom, but after Bailey’s death . . .” He shrugged. “You just never know, do ya?”

“You’re not suggesting that Joyce Quintar was ever with Tanner. . . ?”

“Nah . . . I don’t think so.” But he didn’t sound so sure. “It was just, Carmen was a good girl, and if she was with him at the barbecue, but she’d thought that he’d been with Bailey’s mom and she felt guilty enough . . . she might take her own life.”

McCrae grimaced. He didn’t want to debate what had happened to Carmen again.

“I was going to tell you that, when you talk to Tanner again, you might want to ask him about Mrs. Quintar—er, Kiefer now—but that’s what I mean about feeling bad about talking about him. The reverend suspected something, I think. The moms were friends, but after the barbecue where Carmen died . . . there was a falling out between them. Maybe over Tanner? I just . . . when I’d heard he’d been attacked, I wanted to say my piece.”

McCrae could hear Bailey’s voice in his head: Carmen said she saw something . . . I think it had to do with Tanner . . . she didn’t have a chance to tell me what . . . but she didn’t kill herself . . . she would never do that . . . She’d repeated variations on that theme all the time he’d known her since Carmen’s death.

“I’m just saying, Carmen followed Tanner around like an imprinted duckling and coulda heard and seen a lot of stuff. Tanner wasn’t . . . discreet. I heard afterward he was with some of the girls the night of the barbecue. He was a great kid, great athlete, but he . . . was red-blooded, y’know? He was Carmen’s hero but he . . . mighta showed her a side she couldn’t accept.”

“I don’t think she committed suicide.”

He inclined his head. “You’re the cop.”

“You think this has some bearing on what happened to Tanner two nights ago?”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot. Bailey, rest her soul, thought there was something more. I ran into her a couple of times after I left West Knoll, and both times Carmen’s death was the first thing she talked about. She didn’t feel justice had been done.”

McCrae thought about how Tim Hurston had hijacked Bailey’s case and used it to increase his own profile in his long-term bid for political gain. I feel the same, he thought.

“There he is,” Coach muttered. “Jonah Masterer.”

A tall man strode into the bar and ordered a martini. He then turned to survey the crowd, leaning against the bar, elbows on it, like he owned the place. When one dark-haired woman from a group of ladies drew near him to try to catch the bartender’s attention, Masterer moved in to talk to her. Whatever he was saying brought a smile to her lips, even while she shook her head.

“He’s a type. Dark hair, good-looking . . . seems to have money. Tells ’em about his little girl as a warm-up.” Coach was dry. “When I saw him hitting on Delta, I wanted to smack him, so I left the bar before bad things happened.”

“Good thinking.”

“You gonna talk to him?” Coach asked hopefully.

McCrae was dealing with a coil of jealousy winding through him. Its inappropriateness was slightly worrisome. “Maybe later.”

“You didn’t even order a drink,” Coach said, when McCrae got to his feet.

“Can’t tonight. Thanks. Good to see you.”

He left Sutton staring after him, a little deflated. McCrae suspected the older man really wanted to see the slick and apparently charismatic Masterer get his comeuppance. McCrae would’ve liked to see that, too, but he would be better served to talk to Delta about the man in more depth.

If she would ever answer . . . he thought as he dialed her one more time.

* * *

There were several messages on Delta’s phone that she’d let go to voice mail while she was interviewing with Amanda. She listened to them now while standing in her kitchen, her eyes on Owen, who was already in pajamas and munching on apple slices with cinnamon, his after-dinner snack. The first was a hang-up, the second from the funeral home where she’d sent Tanner’s body after the autopsy. She’d asked that he be cremated, but they’d informed her that a Doctor Lester Stahd had gone to the place and threatened a lawsuit against them if they moved forward with Delta’s request, so that hadn’t happened.

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