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“Wonderful,” I said. “Think she’ll make it back for the big reunion tonight?”

“Reckon so. But I know one classmate who won’t be making it. ‘Spect you know, too.”

I pointed a thumb at the trailer.
“You mean Jasper Shifflett? Yes, I heard. So shocking. May he rest in peace.” I shook my head sadly. “You know how word spreads, Officer. Fact, that’s why I’m here. My brother, Kevin, was real tight with Jasper when they were little.”

Total lie but no way for
Ervin to verify. I forged ahead. “They buried a time capsule back here in the woods somewhere.” I gestured to the thick brush in the protected, overgrown wetlands behind Jasper’s trailer. The whole development backed up to a swampy, smelly area that the Federal Government felt an inexplicable need to protect. Acre upon acre of untouchable land, not that anyone would want to.

“A time capsule?”
Ervin said.

“Yup.
Promised each other that whoever died first, the other one would dig it up and pull out the contents at his memorial. ‘Course, neither one thought it’d be at such a young age.”

“So you’re here digging up
a time capsule that Jasper buried?” Perhaps Ervin pictured an exotic spaceship from another galaxy. He seemed unduly captivated by the idea.

“I am. My brother’s fighting the demon alcohol.”
Man, I was laying it on so thick, my tongue felt like chewed and spat-out toffee. “Checked himself into a good place and put his fate in the Lord’s hands.”

“God bless,” Ervin said.

“Asked me to dig up this capsule for him. Problem is, I’m not sure I’ll find it.”

“Maybe I can help you look. Where’d
your brother say it was exactly?”

The last place I wanted to lead Smitty’s snoop was towards the well. “He said to head
straight back towards an old trail and then go right about fifty yards ‘til I saw a post in the ground with a red and gold circle painted on it.”

The
red and gold circle was Puccio’s symbol, decoupaged along the length of the bar by some new-wave, tattooed artist chick who slept with my manager every Saturday night.

“Let’s have a look,” Ervin said,
gesturing for me to lead the way. Halfway through the back yard, he said, “So how’d you say you heard about Jasper’s passing?”

Ervin wasn’t as easily distracted as I’d hoped. Couldn’t go local with this
excuse as Smitty and Family were too well connected. “Um, my brother texted me about it. Saw it on-line. He gets internet alerts about all his old, local friends.”

The woods thickened around us.
“Funny,” Ervin said, “’cuz from what I heard, after your daddy shot Jasper’s best friend and snapped the neck of that poor little girl, no one wanted to be friends with you or your brother.”

Good for you, Ervin. Unexpected, cold and pointed. Like a fatal dagger to the heart. But you
’re assuming I have one. I spun my head halfway around so I could catch him with my peripheral vision and I didn’t miss a beat. “Like I said, they were friends before my daddy went rogue.”

I felt a pang of disloyalty to my father, but it was so muted, it could have been mistaken for heartburn, maybe even a burp.

“You seen Jasper lately?” he asked.

Had to give Ervin credit. He
’d come back for round two.

“Haven’t seen him since I was a teenager
,” I answered.

“Really
now?”

“God’s honest,” I said, the word
truth
left off but implied. Amazingly, it was the truth.

“Hmp, now that’s strange,” Ervin said, “’cuz word around town is you mighta gone to visit him before he died.
At a place for crackpots.”

I didn’t like how isolated the path had become. The
swarming mosquitoes bit right through my long sleeves and the air became too thick to absorb the sweat on my forehead and chest. Since my plans had entailed going left towards the well, I hadn’t mapped out what this thinning trail looked like to the right. Apparently, it looked like swamp hell. I listened for those kids who were playing earlier. Silence. I scanned the area for signs of life and found only rusted cans in dense foliage. Not a reassuring sign of civilization. Not even a rabbit poking around. Nothing to indicate that anyone ever came back here—anyone who could find my decomposing corpse after Ervin stashed it beneath an impenetrable mat of wildrye grass.

I suddenly knew I’d been outclassed in the deception department.
My breathing grew faster but shallower and my core temperature rose a couple degrees. I couldn’t extract enough oxygen from the atmosphere to keep my head from pounding. The path narrowed so much that Ervin had to stay two steps behind me, leaving me to encounter the thorns and poison ivy first—and him to pull out his gun and put a bullet through the back of my head.

I jerked around suddenly, catching him off-guard
, not sure of my intent, when my phone burst to life. Ervin’s eyes panicked. Before he could stop me, I grabbed it from its clip, pressed the button to answer and held it to my ear. “Hello!” I shouted, staring right at Ervin, perhaps even startling him.

“Morning,
Sunshine,” Charlie said. “Whatchya up to? Ready for our big date tonight?”

“Hey Charlie,” I said, “I’m in the woods behind Jasper Shifflett’s old place with Officer Ervin Johnston. You know, in The Willows.”

Needed
to get as much information out to another human being as fast as possible. And Ervin knew it. The veins in his skinny neck tightened into chicken wishbone formation, tempting me to reach out and snap them for good luck.

“W.T.F.?
” Charlie said, drawing out each letter.

“I’m looking for that old time capsule of Kevin’s and Jasper’s.
You remember when they did that?”

“Sounds more like you’re smoking the weeds
in Jasper’s tomato garden,” Charlie said. “Anyway, here’s the scoop. Don’t look now, but Jasper’s dead. Food poisoning or heart attack or something. Thought you’d want to know since you’ve gone all Nancy Drew on everybody’s ass.”

I ignored Charlie’s scoop
. First of all, I already knew, but I really needed to direct this conversation to my advantage. These woods were closing in on me like kudzu on crack.

“
Sounds good,” I said. “The Midi-Mart in twenty minutes. I’ll meet you there.”

“You in some kind of trouble,
Sunshine?”

“You got that right.
See you soon.”

I hung up, a combination of feigned innocence and
fuck you
on my face. Ervin looked pissed.

“Charlie Loughney?” Ervin
said, the name leaving an almost physical distaste on his tongue.

“The one and only
,” I said, certain that Charlie’s type didn’t score many favors from law enforcement in Lavitte. “Listen, Officer Johnston, thanks for your help, but we’ve gone well past the fifty yards my brother indicated. I’m thinking that pole got pulled up or something. You?”

Ervin seemed to have trouble unclenching his jaw. Whatever his plan had been,
I’d deep-sixed it in the sludge.

“
Better go meet Charlie,” I sputtered. “If I’m not there, he’ll come looking for me. Don’t want him to soil his sockless loafers.”

Ervin
curled his thin lips in disgust. Not sure which upset him more. The fact that he didn’t accomplish his mission or the thought of a man in sockless loafers.

There was just enough space to slip past
Ervin. While he thought of his next move, I forced my way by him and sprinted all the way to my car.

So
Smitty had sicced Ervin on me just as I was ready to discover Jasper’s secret. What exactly did Jasper know? Was it enough to get
me
killed?

I needed to get to that well.

Chapter 30

Allison… present

I drove home, checking the rear view mirror enough times to put a crick in my neck. I didn’t see Ervin following me, but I did notice a Lincoln Town Car a hundred feet back—Mayor Kettrick’s preferred vehicle back in the day. It had been the only Lincoln in Lavitte. By the time I reached the end of town, I was so convinced Mayor Kettrick was hot on my trail that I pulled over to make him pass. The white-haired woman who drove by could barely see over the steering wheel. Man, I was getting as paranoid as Jasper.

Five minutes later, I pulled into my mother’s driveway and nearly crashed into
a $70,000 Lexus LX SUV. The license plate read,
Mayors LX
. Mayor Kettrick’s car for sure, this time. What was he doing here? I got out of my car, hands trembling. My mother was in there with only Selena for protection. Otherwise, I would never have entered voluntarily. Why in the world would Mayor Kettrick show his face at our house?

I reached for the handle of the back door, the one that led to the kitchen,
willing my hand to be steady. Cracking open the door, I heard my mother’s voice, even and polite. Please don’t let her be declaring Bobby Kettrick a rat. Then I heard the sound of two women laughing graciously and realized I’d been staring at the floor, not even risking a glance at the visitor. Raising my eyes, I spotted Georgia Kettrick in the flesh. Bobby Kettrick’s mother at the Fennimores’ kitchen table. Surreal.

“Allison,” my mother said, seeming to be her old self
, “come in. Look who’s here.”

Oh, I see who’s here, Mom.

The smell of hibiscus tea and ginger snaps wafted over to me at the same time that Georgia Kettrick waved and smiled, leaving no doubt as to the source of Bobby’s perfect choppers. At close to 60, Mrs. Kettrick was still a beauty. She’d aged naturally but must have planted herself firmly beneath her expensive gardening hats with layers of slathered lotion on her face during daylight hours. Her hair, still blond, probably got a little help from the bottle, but she pulled it off easily. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was half Norwegian.

“Hello, Allison,” Mrs. Kettrick said, standing
to reveal an aquamarine, shimmery blouse and slim, off-white trousers. She extended her hand. I’d been right about the perfect manicure. Simple, French tips topping off glossy nail beds, neat as a Navy uniform.

I swallowed. “Hello, Mrs. Kettrick.”
I’d about reached my bullshit quota with Ervin this morning so no more small talk came out, not even reflexively. I shook her hand but with little awareness of doing it.

“
Your mother and I were talking about life in New York City,” she said. “The mayor and I have spent several lovely weekends there.”

Mrs.
Kettrick’s overall presence here was disturbing enough, but not as disturbing as her reference to her husband as
the mayor
. On the other hand, she could have said
Bobby’s father
, which would have blown the awkward meter to smithereens.

I barely smiled.

“Have a seat and join us, honey,” my mother said. “Some tea?”

“No thank
s,” I croaked.

“Mrs. Kettrick came by to
speak with you, but I must say, it’s been lovely to see her again. We used to be quite close.”

“It’s one o
f the great regrets of my life,” Mrs. Kettrick said, “the loss of our friendship after… Bobby’s death.” When she spoke, her mouth formed a perfect circle. I remembered it now from watching her sing in the church choir where she always occupied front row, center. But how could she be this poised and sincere here in our kitchen?

“
You can understand,” she continued. “It was a devastating time for all of us. And the mayor simply wouldn’t have understood if I’d reached out to Justine here. I had to tread carefully in those days.”

I nodded.
From what Charlie had told me, she’d needed to tread carefully every day of her life.

T
hey both took a sip of their tea to fill the gap where we were all supposed to gloss over the inelegance of the conversation.

Mrs. Kettrick picked up a cookie and placed it on the delicate, white plate my mother had provided.
“The reason for my visit, Allison, is to let you know that you’re stirring up somewhat of a hornets’ nest in town. Memories run deep here in Lavitte, and they tend to harden with the years. We surely would appreciate it if you’d stop inquiring about the night of Bobby’s death as if the investigation were being reopened.”

Did
we
refer to her and the mayor, or her and Smitty’s parents?

“
Exactly whose hornets are being stirred, if you don’t mind my asking, Mrs. Kettrick?”

My
mother almost spit out her tea, horrified at my insolence. After all, if the queen tells you not to stir the hornets, you don’t ask for clarification on which hornets.

Mrs. Kettrick reached out her hand and rested it on my mother’s forearm to
assure her that her daughter’s rude behavior was okay. The sight of their physical contact shocked me and I half expected lightning to pass between them, disintegrating both.

“I understand your
… curiosity, Allison,” Mrs. Kettrick said. “You’re an adult now and you need closure. Perhaps you’re even nursing the idea of clearing your father’s name.” She punctuated her last sentence with a pitiful smile that went about as deep as my regard for her husband.

“That’s not
—” I said.

“Please, let me finish
.” She said it forcefully but without raising her voice. “I’m not sure all the details of that night ever did come out. Maybe they would have, with appeals and whatnot…”

If your daddy hadn’t killed
himself
went unsaid. The words hung in the air as surely as my father had. My mother gazed into her tea.

“But
the whole episode’s been over for a good, long time now. I lost a son and I’ll never get over it. You lost a father. Justine lost a husband. The Andersons lost a daughter. And Lavitte, well, poor Lavitte lost a piece of its heart and soul that night.”

Yes, let’s break out the violins for poo
r old Lavitte. Was this lady losing it? And I wasn’t sure, but I thought you weren’t supposed to be able to mention your dead son without tears brimming your eyes. Where were Mrs. Kettrick’s?

“I understand you talked to
John Smith and to Enzo,” she said. “And you went to see Bobby’s old friend, Jasper Shifflett, God rest his soul.”

So Jasper had already reached
God rest his soul
status. I thought that usually required a few weeks’ passage of time, maybe even a burial and the sprinkling of a little dirt on the coffin. Lavitte was rushing this one into the ground, six feet under and then some. I turned my body numb, my face an intentional mask of black. I didn’t want to give Mrs. Kettrick anything, not my knowledge of Jasper’s death nor my suspicions about the circumstances. I’d take whatever she was willing to put on the table but I steadfastly refused to give anything back.

“I haven’t seen Jasper Shifflett in over fifteen years,” I said. It was becoming a worn phrase, but still true.

Mrs. Kettrick smiled like a preschool teacher humoring a child.
“Well, that’s neither here nor there,” she said. “I know you wanted to see him. And I have to ask, to what end? He had nothing to do with the events of that night.”

Give nothing
, I reminded myself. Don’t mention Jasper’s weak alibi. Don’t mention Jasper saying,
it’s time
. Don’t mention Ervin Johnston’s harassment, and certainly don’t mention the existence of an encoded message hidden in a swampy well.

“You’re right, I’m sure,” I said. “I
only asked Smitty about Jasper because I was wondering if they kept in touch. The three of them—Bobby, Smitty and Jasper—they were thick as thieves back in the day.” I kept my eyes steady and my voice solid, the mention of thieves garnering only one blink from Georgia Kettrick. “But I never saw Jasper.”

“Either way, I wonder what I can do to
get you to let things lie.”

How about sic Smitty’s creepy cousin on me in the middle of the woods? Is that what you and the Sm
iths were plotting when you met? Instead, I went with, “I don’t mean to sound harsh, Mrs. Kettrick, but why would it matter to you? I would think that if there was some undiscovered truth out there waiting to be revealed about Bobby’s death, you’d be first in line to hear it.” I heard my mother gasp but I kept my eyes focused on our guest. “Not that I think there is, mind you.”

Mrs. Kettrick grew
angry, but you’d never know it from her voice. Her mood shift showed in the little things. The fingers that curled in on the tea mug a little too tightly. Her mouth’s subtle transformation from an “o” to a horizontal line. The quick intake of breath before she spoke. “We want Bobby to rest in peace. We want his memory and his legacy left undisturbed. Surely, you understand that. The last thing the mayor wants is for people to get wind that the daughter of Arthur Fennimore is asking questions. You know how people love to rehash gossip. Just imagine if one of those horrible reality shows got hold of the story, and came around with their trucks and cameras, their secret microphones, and those frightful reporters who won’t leave well enough alone.” Her smile evoked the perfect combination of sadness and distaste.

Dead was dead
to her. Bobby was gone, his false legacy well intact. Apparently, she couldn’t spare a kind thought for Kevin and the unthinkable monster in his head. Or for my mother and her bizarre bouts, or even for me and the stunted course of my life. I hadn’t come into this thing looking to point fingers, but the increased resistance against my efforts suggested there might be someone or something worth pointing at. I felt like a Roly Poly bug. The more they poked, the smaller I got and the harder my outer shell became. But I needed to go one step farther. I needed to push back... just enough.

“
Leave well enough alone, Mrs. Kettrick? Was it
well enough
that my father died with the shadow of two murders hanging over his head, one of them never even tried? Last I checked, a few simple questions couldn’t stir up hornets or destroy honest legacies, so I’m not sure I see what the problem is here.”

My mother
whirled in my direction, surprising me and letting her anger spill over the edges. “You start turning over rocks, young lady, you might get bit by a snake. Now I don’t know everything you’ve been up to since you got here, but it’s got to stop. Bad enough what I’ve put up with all these years. Dirty looks at the grocery store, snide remarks when I’m filling my gas tank, and heading to the mailbox every day wondering if teenagers left dog mess in there again. You have no idea what it’s like because I sent you from here as soon as I could, but I live with it. For reasons of my own. Things have settled in their own way. Your father is not coming back but at least I have you and your brother. Let me keep that.”

My mother
was never a pretty crier. Her nose would turn red and her eyes would swell up. It happened now. Mrs. Kettrick reached out to her before I did, a comforting hand accompanied by murmurings of, “There, there, Justine. You’ve said your piece. Everything will be okay.”

I wanted to reach out and slap
Mrs. Kettrick. Where were those consoling hands and warm words when my mother stood alone against the world, when she had to slog and fight her way through a simple errand or sit alone at home yearning for a single, supportive phone call? I shoved my chair back with a scrape and stood up. “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Kettrick, but my mother needs to rest.”

A certain mayor’s wife was not accustomed to being booted out on her ass from a social call. Then again, th
is wasn’t really a social call, was it?

“I’ll walk you out,” I said.
The two of us left my mother quietly sweeping the cookie crumbs from the table, her soft whimpering muffled by pride.

I followed
Mrs. Kettrick down the walkway. Even her gait was measured and graceful. With her back to me still, she glanced at the flower bed my mother had carved out in the southwest corner of the yard, a rectangular shape near the fence. “Tell your mother she needs more blue in her garden. It would balance all that pink.”

Seriously? The color spectrum of my mother’s garden topped her list of priorities? How about a friend to balance
the loneliness, or a warm embrace to help combat the missiles of loathing flying in from all directions?

“Yes,
” I said, “if there’s one thing my mother’s lacking, it’s the blues. I’ll be sure to tell her.”

She
touched her key fob, causing her excessive SUV to chirp like a happy bird delighted by her return. Then she opened the back door, reached in, and brought out a bottle, wide on the bottom, narrow in the middle, and topped with a hexagonal neck. She held it out like a waiter to a stuffy customer. The bottle’s front boasted an engraving of grapevines swirling over a barrel, with a maroon label reading
RGK Vineyards
in gold letters. Undoubtedly, it stood for Robert and Georgia Kettrick.