“So our Bobby’s done time,” said Joseph. He sat on his
mother’s settee and looked at her.
The President of
the Garden Club nodded.
“You knew?”
“Yes. He told me.
It was a long time ago. Marijuana.”
“But trafficking,
Mother. It must have been pretty bad. They didn’t put white kids in jail for
nothing. He got ten years!”
“Reduced.”
“It doesn’t look
good. And you thick as thieves with him.”
“What have they
found?”
“He was shot.”
“Well I certainly knew
that!”
“With Bobby’s nail
gun. They’ve got it. And a Glock. Drug dealers’ gun of choice, they say.”
“Bobby doesn’t own
a gun. He reviles the NRA.”
“I know that,
Mother. But these experts don’t. They see Bobby’s nail gun. They see a drug
conviction. They see his prints on the wheelbarrow. Now all they need to do is
find out about the daughter and they’ll be adding two and two up to five in no
time.”
“Has anybody
spoken with Kate Addams?”
“Which Kate
Addams? Why a man would marry a woman with the same name as his daughter is a
mystery to me!”
“Saves trouble
with the names. Didn’t Johnny Carson marry three Joannes?” She thought. “No, it
was Joan, Joanne and Joanna.”
“Why are we
talking about Johnny Carson, Mother? You were there when I told Kate the wife.
Kate the daughter and her brother have been told. Not by me. I don’t know who
told them.”
“Where is the
funeral going to be?”
“I don’t know
that either. Apparently they’ve lived here as long as anywhere—a few years in
Austin, Santa Fe, New York, Mexico, Florida. All over the place.”
“Why? Why so many
places? Running from or running to?”
“Anyway they
haven’t released the body yet. And probably won’t for a while. Til all the
toxicology reports and so on are in, anyway.” He shifted the gun belt he rarely
wore. “Like I know anything about it!
Worst death we had was that kid who overdosed! Pretty clear how that
happened with a needle sticking out of his arm! The third Block Island kid this
year. Or the one who wrapped himself around a phone pole on the Neck!”
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