Breath of Scandal(80)

No one at the construction site in Mississippi had seen Mr. Burke since the Thursday night he left for home. His co-workers expressed sorrow over the deaths of his family. "He was crazy about that kid," one said. "Talked about him all the time."



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"How'd he feel about his wife?"

"Her picture's still here in the trailer where he left it. He didn't screw around on her, if that's what you're asking." Assault charges were never filed for the attack on Haskell



Scanlan. The only viable suspect had vanished. It seemed as though he had simply walked away from everything.

CHAPTER



Sixteen



Palmetto, South Carolina, 1987

"A freaking faggot! Can you believe it?" Neal Patchett shook his head in disbelief and took another sip of his bourbon and water.

Hutch Jolly was as shocked as Neal by the news about Lamar. Hutch just wasn't as outspoken. "I hadn't been around Lamar very much for the last few years, " he remarked. "Not near as much as you."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Neal asked defensively.

"Hell. It's not supposed to mean a damn thing except that I hadn't been around him much. Did you notice any changes in him over the years?"

"No, and that can only mean one thing." "What's that?"

"He was queer all along," Neal said. "All those years he stuck to us like glue, he was a fairy. It gives me the willies to think about it. I lived with the guy! Jesus!"

Until now Donna Dee had refrained from entering the conversation. "The way y'all are bad-mouthing somebody who just died is pitiful. I don't care if Lamar was gay, he



was still a human being, He was our friend. I feel sorry for him - "

Neal snickered. "You ought to have a talk with your old lady, Hutch. Set her straight on a few things. Feeling sorry for queers the way she does, maybe she should have moved out to San Francisco like Lamar did.

"You know," he continued, "that should have been my first clue. First he moves out of the house we shared, then he got all fired up about going to California as soon as we graduated. Who in their right mind would want to live among all those freaks unless you were one of them? I should have known then he was a faggot."

Donna Dee opened her mouth to speak, but Hutch shot her a warning glance and asked, "Is there any of that clam dip left, honey?"

Resentfully she flounced from the room and went into the kitchen. She was frequently short-tempered. Lately she'd been on a tear about moving to a larger house. They had bought this one after returning from Hutch's stint in Hawaii. It wasn't much better than the one they'd had on base, but it was all they could afford.

Besides, Donna Dee only used the house-among a number of other things-as an excuse for her bad moods. Hutch ignored the racket of clattering dishes and banging cabinet doors coming from the kitchen and freshened his guest's drink.

Neal was still on the subject of Lamar Griffith's recent demise. "You know that disease he died of-what's it called?"

"AIDS," Donna Dee said as she rejoined them, bearing a tray of dip and chips.

"My daddy says that only queers can get it. It comes from f*cking each other in the ass. How's that for a way to go,?"

Hutch dug into the dip. Most of his football muscle had turned to flab and collected around his middle, but he continued to feed his athlete's appetite. "The paper said he died of pneumonia," he mumbled around a mouthful.



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"That's what Myrajane wants everybody to believe," Neal said. "She didn't even have Lamar buried here in the Cowan plot she's so damned proud of. He was cremated out in California. The pile of ashes probably wasn't this high," he said, indicating a space of about two inches with his hands. "I heard he didn't weigh a hundred pounds at the end. "

He laughed. "Christ, can you imagine what the funeral was like? It must have been a sideshow-a bunch of fairies sitting around sniveling. 'Oh, dear me, I don't know what I'll do without my precious Lamar,' " Neal said in a singsong falsetto.

Donna Dee shot to her feet. "You are, and always have been, a prick, Neal Patchett. Excuse me. " She left the room again. Seconds later, they heard the bedroom door slam.

Neal rolled his tongue in one cheek. "Your old lady's a barrel of laughs, Hutch.

Hutch glanced in the direction of Donna Dee's angry exit. "I've been having to work some overtime, and she doesn't enjoy being alone at night."

The only job Hutch could find when he mustered out of the navy was at the soybean plant. Donna Dee resented his working for the Patchetts, although he didn't want to tell Neal that. Going back to college had never been considered. Even if he had the money, he lacked the initiative.

Donna Dee was working as a receptionist in a gynecologist's office. One of the benefits was that she got free treatment and advice. They'd been married almost ten years, yet she had still failed to conceive. She fought her barrenness with a fanaticism that bewildered Hutch.