A Good Killing (4 page)

“Stay in the car,” Anna told her sister. “Do not say
anything
to
anyone
.”

For once, Jody just nodded. The sight of the officers at her house seemed to have knocked the air out of her. Anna jumped out of the Yukon and strode up to an officer who was toting a box out of Jody’s home.

“I assume you have a warrant,” Anna said. “I’d like to see the paperwork.”

“Detective Gargaron’s in charge.” The officer nodded at Rob and kept walking. Cursing under her breath, Anna went up to Rob. He stood on the front steps with another officer, going over papers on a clipboard.

“Detective Gargaron,” Anna said. “You seem to be everywhere.”

“Ms. Curtis.” He looked up. “It’s not personal. Your sister’s case came up on my watch.”

“What are the chances?”

“I know half the people who live in Holly Grove. Chances were pretty good.”

Cooper walked up and greeted Rob with a vigorous jock handshake.

“’Sup, Gargaron?”

“’Sup, Bolden?”

Cooper put a hand on Anna’s shoulder. Only then did she realize she was shaking.

“You guys take your car accidents seriously here in Holly Grove,” Cooper said. “In Detroit, the police don’t even show up for gunfire.”

Rob said, “How’s that working out for Detroit?”

“May I see the warrant, please?” Anna said.

Rob was required to give her a copy, and he knew it. He pulled a folded sheaf of papers from his back pocket and handed it to Anna. She skimmed the first page: judge’s signature, clerk’s stamp, proper address. The technicalities were in order. She looked to the dotted line where the suspected crime would be named. Her heart hitched as she read the words:
MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE.
She forced herself to read on to the next page, which listed the items the police could take out of the house:

BEDSHEETS; BLANKETS; REASONABLE SWATHES FROM ANY CARPETING, UPHOLSTERY, WALLS, OR OTHER SURFACES WHICH APPEAR TO CONTAIN OR TEST POSITIVE FOR THE PRESENCE OF HUMAN SECRETIONS; SPONGES, RAGS, MOPS, CLEANING PRODUCTS; WASHING MACHINE; ALL SINKS, TOILETS, SHOWERS, AND PIPES ATTACHED THERETO; ANY OBJECT THAT COULD BE USED TO INFLICT BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE SKULL.

Anna looked up, stunned. “What are you looking for? There was a car crash at the stadium. A one-car drunk-driving accident. What’s that got to do with Jody’s toilet?”

Rob shrugged. “It’s too soon to tell.”

“Can I get the affidavit?”

The affidavit would have all the details explaining why the po
lice thought there was probable cause to search Jody’s house, and it would tell Anna a lot about the investigation they’d conducted so far.

“No,” Rob replied. “It’s sealed.”

Anna had reached the end of the information he was obligated to give her, and now she wanted to strangle him. But the most effective attorneys weren’t the ones who berated cops, but befriended them.

“Can I talk to you alone for a sec?” she asked, glancing at Cooper and the other officer.

Rob seemed pleased. They walked to the end of the driveway, away from the crowd. Anna met his eyes and kept the anger out of her voice. “You obviously know your stuff, Rob, and you’re doing a thorough job. You don’t have to tell me anything else, and I don’t want to put you on the spot. But I would really appreciate if you could clue me in on what the police theory is.”

Rob looked at her for a long moment, then grinned. “What made you come home anyhow, Anna? You miss me?”

She forced herself to return his smile. But she couldn’t banter—not with this man, not while her sister’s house was being searched. So she went with the truth. “I missed Jody,” she said. “I haven’t been here for her much since I left for college. And I certainly haven’t been around for her enough the past few months. I can see that she’s really in trouble. I’m a prosecutor, Rob. I want to do the right thing here. What’s going on?”

Rob ran his thumb across his brushy straw-colored mustache. “I’ll tell you something off the record. If you go to the press with it, though, I swear I’ll never tell you anything again.”

“I won’t go to the press with it.”

“The coroner says Coach Fowler didn’t die in the car crash. He was dead before the car hit the wall. The side of his skull was bashed in, and not from the windshield. From blunt force trauma that occurred before the accident.”

Anna blew out a breath. She realized why the police were taking Jody’s pipes. They were looking for blood, evidence that Jody had
washed up a crime scene. They thought she’d killed Coach Fowler in her home, then cleaned up afterward. That was ridiculous.

“How is my tiny sister going to kill that big man? And drag his body to a car? And get the car to crash into a stadium?”

“Your sister is just as smart as you,” Rob said. “If she put her mind to something, she’d get it done.”

7

I
hoped you would come home for the Homecoming dance, but you were off on some important college thing, a debate tournament or something. Mom took a hundred pictures of me wearing a frilly hot-pink dress. My date, Ben Ohebshalom, wore a not-quite-as-hot-pink cummerbund, which kind of clashed with my dress, but which Mom still thought was adorably thoughtful. I used concealer to try to cover up the scratches on my forehead, but it didn’t really work. On the bright side, Wendy’s fresh fingernail marks drew attention away from the old scar on my cheek. For once, there was something more dramatic for people to try not to stare at.

Ben was a nice guy—cute, smart, and funny, but not too full of himself. He had those dreamy hazel eyes that made all the other girls go gaga for him. He liked me, and I knew it. But I didn’t feel the same way. Maybe it was
because
he was so nice and smart. I always did fall for the worst possible guy in any ten-mile radius, right? Or maybe it’s just impossible for a fifteen-year-old boy to compete with a fully grown man. I was already smitten with the big crush of my teenage life, and no cummerbund, however thoughtfully chosen, could change that.

The school gym was done up as best as it could be, though it was still obviously a gym. But the fluorescents were off, little white Christmas lights and paper flowers hung from the walls, and we had a DJ, so at least it had the proper sense of occasion.

Wendy was at the dance too, obviously. She came with one of the seniors, “as friends.” He got the status of bringing last year’s Homecoming queen, and she got to bask in her fading glory one more time.

I was talking to Ben and some other sophomores, when Wendy
came up. She looked me up and down and said, “Where did you get that dress?”

“The Gap,” I said, blanking on anything higher end.

“That’s a lie,” she said, and she was right. I got it at the consignment shop on Main Street for forty-three dollars. “The Gap doesn’t sell prom dresses. I know where you got that dress. It was mine. I wore it two years ago.”

This was true, I confirmed, too late. The next day, I looked in the yearbook, and there was Wendy at the 2002 Homecoming dance, all resplendent in the frilly horror. Only it was new then.

I could feel everyone looking, silent and embarrassed for me. I wanted to crawl out of that dress and leave it on the floor. But I wouldn’t give Wendy the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. I raised my chin and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Wendy. Did you want to wear it again? I didn’t realize adults were allowed to come to kids’ dances.”

My friends laughed, and I flounced off while I still had the last word. Also, before anyone could see the tears in my eyes. I walked over to the DJ and pretended to look at the list of songs. That’s when Coach came up to me. He was chaperoning the dance. He wore a dark suit and light blue tie that matched his eyes. For a minute, I was stunned by how good he looked.

He handed me a tissue and said, “Don’t worry about Wendy. She’s just jealous. You look better in that dress than she ever did.”

“Thanks.” I turned so no one could see me dabbing my eyes. I hoped my blue eyeliner wouldn’t run.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” he said. “Being a chaperone at these dances, or being a kid at them.”

“That’s easy. All
you
have to do is stand there, looking all . . . nice . . . in your suit.”

“Ah, so it must seem. But in fact it’s a tricky job. Look over there.” He cocked his head at a bunch of boys—football players—standing in a darkened corner, passing something around.

“Booze?” I asked.

“I expect so.”

“Are you going to bust them?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”

“You’re the chaperone. Seems like a pretty easy call,” I said, even though I didn’t want those kids to get in trouble.

“Yeah? Say I bust them for alcohol. What then? They get suspended or expelled, in their senior year. Arrested, even. Not good for their careers. And then how do I field a team? We’d never make it to state finals.”

I laughed.

“Maybe you can just talk to them?” I said. “Tell them to pour it out?”

“That might be just the answer.” He smiled at me, like I’d come up with a wise and insightful solution. Then his face got serious. “But listen, Jody. There’s going to be a lot of drinking tonight. Things can get out of hand at these parties. Take care of yourself.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. I certainly hoped things would get out of hand. What was the fun otherwise? He handed me a piece of paper. It had his phone number written on it.

“Call me if you ever need help. I’ll pick you up and take you home, no questions asked. And I won’t tell your mom if you don’t want me to.”

I held that little piece of paper like it was the Hope Diamond. I didn’t have many adults I could count on in my life.

“Thank you,” I said. I folded it into a neat square and put it in my purse.

“I want to show you something.” He steered me to the other side of the gym and pointed up at the board that listed the school records. It was black with faded yellow lettering. But bright white letters spelled out one new entry:

GIRLS’ HIGH JUMP: JODY CURTIS, 6'2", 10/12/04

I’d set the school record at a track meet a couple weeks earlier. I got a big golden trophy, which sat in the middle of my bedroom dresser. But this was even better. They’d taken your name down from the gym and put up mine. Sorry, sis. But it was the first time I was better than you in anything. And the coach made sure the record was up on the board in time for the dance.

He said, “I’m really proud of you, Jody.”

I’d never heard Dad say that. Tears welled up again, but for a different reason. I turned and hugged him. He stiffened, and I knew that I shouldn’t have done that. He was an adult and couldn’t be seen hugging a student at a dance. I dropped my arms and just looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who did it.”

“You taught me how.”

We smiled at each other, because it was an accomplishment that we’d achieved together: his coaching and my jumping. It was one of the best moments of my life. That, of course, was the moment Wendy chose to come over and tap me on the shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but Ben is looking for you. He said he
really
needs to talk to you.”

“Guess I should go.” I said reluctantly. “Bye, Coach.”

“Bye, Jody. Have a good night. Be careful out there.”

When I got to Ben, he was standing in a group of guys, joking and laughing. Ben’s face lit up when I walked over—but he hadn’t been looking for me. I turned back and saw that Wendy was now talking to the coach. Her hip was cocked to one side, and she was twirling a long strand of red-blond hair around her finger in the unmistakable gesture of the Flirting American Woman. I’d been had. She glanced at me, smiled, and then turned back to Coach. She reached out slowly and straightened his tie. It was a gesture of intimacy, and it stung in exactly the way she’d hoped.

I was comforted by one thing. Coach said I looked better in that pink dress.

8

A
nna glanced back at Jody, who was still sitting in the passenger seat of the Yukon. Jody met Anna’s eyes with a question in hers. Anna held up a finger: hang on another minute. She turned back to Rob, standing on Jody’s driveway with his arms folded on his chest.

He was right that Jody was smart. In many ways, Anna knew, Jody was the smarter sister. Anna had more credentials—but it was only because she had more to prove. Because of their turbulent childhood, and her impotence in the middle of it, Anna needed a job helping the world, trying to find the justice that had eluded her. Jody, on the other hand, had always been the tougher and more proactive sister, and now had nothing to prove to anyone.

Rob was right: Jody could do anything she wanted. But killing someone was not something Jody would want. She was a kind, gentle soul: giving a dollar to anyone on the street who held out a hand, volunteering to walk dogs at the animal shelter. Anna remembered the time Jody splinted a stray cat’s leg before taking him to the Humane Society. Anna couldn’t imagine her sister beating anyone over the head with a heavy object. Something was going on—Anna thought of Jody’s injured wrist and drowned cell phone—but it wasn’t her sister killing the most respected man in town.

Anna said, “Can Jody get some stuff out of her house?”

“What do you think, counselor?” Rob said. “Would you advise your D.C. police officers to let the suspect enter her home during the execution of a search warrant?”

“Fine. We’ll wait till you’re finished.”

“It’s gonna take a while. And you might want to get a place to
stay for the night. After we’re finished, Jody’s not gonna have a pot to piss in. Literally.”

They walked back to the front porch, where Cooper was taking cell-phone pictures of the officers going in and out. Good idea, Anna thought. “Cooper, can Jody and I stay at your house tonight?”

“Sure.” Cooper turned to Rob. “Gargaron, go easy on the house.”

“Like a virgin,” Rob said.

Anna shook her head with disgust and got back into her sister’s Yukon.

“What’s the story?” Jody asked.