All Good People Here(29)

    Margot, 2019


The first full day of Margot’s self-imposed two-week deadline was a Sunday, and for the first time in twenty years, she was going to church.

After conducting interviews at Shorty’s the previous afternoon, she’d done everything she could to hit the ground running with the investigation the next day. First, she didn’t have the time or money to keep getting takeout for every meal, so, as promised, she did a grocery run to Granny’s Pantry, stocking up on granola, milk, coffee, frozen lasagnas, apples, peanut butter, sliced meats and cheeses for sandwiches—anything she could think of that would be easy to prepare. She also decided hiring a part-time caregiver could wait. Pete’s suggestion had been innocuous enough, but googling and calling an actual agency had made Margot prickle with guilt. She and Luke didn’t need help. They were good together, the two of them against the world. Plus, without the promise of a paycheck, the price of a caregiver would eat through her savings in a matter of weeks. She’d just have to juggle—helping out around the house and investigating the story at the same time.

That evening, while Luke drowsed in front of the TV and she did his laundry—clothes and bedding—she figured out her next steps in the investigation. With all the other news outlets preoccupied with Natalie Clark’s case, Margot knew she wouldn’t be able to touch that story, especially not now when she didn’t have any current credentials to legitimize her questions. So she decided to come at the story from a different angle, to focus on January’s case, and the people she wanted to talk to most were Billy, Jace, and Detective Townsend—those who’d been closest to it. The detective, she soon found out, was one year into his retirement, and the state police in South Bend gave Margot his cell number without qualm or question. Townsend himself had jumped at her request for an interview, agreeing to one the very next afternoon, which gave Margot the feeling that he didn’t quite know what to do with all his free time.

The other two, however, were far more elusive. Jace was nowhere to be found online and Margot couldn’t figure out how to reach Billy, whose very front yard was now a blocked-off crime scene, and who, according to Luke, had become intensely private since Krissy’s death ten years ago. But then that evening, as she cooked a stir-fry for her and Luke’s dinner, something her uncle had said popped into her head. Billy doesn’t really see many people anymore. But I think he still goes to church.

So the next morning, Margot dug through the mess of clothes she had yet to unpack from her suitcase and threw together the nicest outfit she could: a gray wrap skirt, a white T-shirt she tucked into it, and a pair of leather sandals. She hooked her small gold hoops into her ears, swiped on some mascara, and called it a day. At the very least, she hoped people would be able to tell she’d made an effort.

“You look nice,” Luke said when she emerged from her room. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and his book of crosswords.

Margot grinned. “I’m going to church. You wanna come?”

Luke’s eyes widened in surprise, then he threw his head back with laughter. After a moment, he caught his breath, wiped a finger beneath both eyes, then looked at her. “Wait. Are you serious?”

Margot laughed. “I’m also leaving early so I can buy a pie from Granny’s. I’m trying to woo Billy Jacobs into talking with me.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “You have good journalistic…” He hesitated, looking for the right word, then finished with “integrity,” which Margot guessed was a stand-in for instincts. “I assume this is for work?”

Margot looked down, pretending to adjust the waist of her skirt. “Yep.” She felt as if she’d lied more to Luke in the past few days than she had in her entire life, but when Pete told her at the station that he’d never found her uncle wandering the streets until two days ago, Margot realized that Luke’s sudden decline was probably because of her. For months, he’d been living in solitude, without help but also without provocation. Since she’d moved in, all she talked about was the disappearance of one little girl and the murder of another.

She needed to remember he was more sensitive now, more volatile. She needed to stop talking about unsolved crimes, and she definitely did not need to tell him that she’d gotten fired. “It’s for a piece I’m working on,” she said. “So wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck, kid,” Luke said with a wink. “You got talent for days.”



* * *



—

Margot stepped through the church’s double doors and into the bright, blinding sun. The muffled sounds of the organ’s closing hymns reverberated behind her as she blinked furiously, trying to get her eyes to adjust. When her vision finally cleared, she could see the retreating figure of Billy Jacobs, walking quickly down the sidewalk, his hands tucked into his suit pant pockets, his head bowed.

Margot had arrived at the church ten minutes before the service began and was surprised to see how many people she knew. She spotted almost everyone she’d spoken to at Shorty’s, except Linda, who was no doubt working, plus a handful of her parents’ old friends and one of her former elementary school teachers, all of whom greeted her with bright smiles and sharp, curious eyes. But Billy had arrived only moments before the service began, after she and the rest of the congregation had already settled into the pews. Afterward, the moment the organ started up, as the ladies began to sling their purses over their shoulders and catch the eyes of their friends, Margot watched as Billy stood and slipped quietly out the door. She followed.