Real Bad Things(53)
“How are things going for you, Benjamin?”
Georgia Lee nodded as he recounted the past few months living in Maud. House hunting, gym going, paperwork. Boring story, but he was handsome. Single. The sleeves of his plain black T-shirt fit nicely around his biceps. Made the listening a bit more bearable. She wondered if she knew anyone he might grow fond of. Maybe a girl from church?
John joined them. He’d already enjoyed several of the burgers and snickerdoodles she offered him. Everyone had taken bets as to when the next heart attack would occur. Georgia Lee’s mother had died of hers relatively young despite all that focus on diet and exercise, yet here he sat, indulging and ignoring his health. Perhaps today would be his lucky third. After all, he had gone behind her back to befriend Bollinger. She still couldn’t believe John had told him about the discovery of Warren’s body before her.
“French onion dip?” She offered the prepackaged, do-nothing dip to him instead of the homemade guacamole. “How’s the heart?”
John laughed, mentioned the food plan Pat had him on. Pat wanted him to retire, spend more time at home. If only Pat knew what it was like to have her husband home all day. A week into retirement, she would probably change her mind. But perhaps Pat enjoyed his company.
Across the yard, Rusty had his hands out, talking animatedly about something. The other men laughed, and his face brightened in response. She couldn’t help but smile. She’d been too hard on him. Perhaps it was hormones after all. The change? So early? She would try to be nicer.
She returned her attention to John. “And the case of our washed-up man?” Despite her need for action, she’d been loath to ask for fear they’d suspect she knew something only a guilty party would know. But the news of Warren’s bones and the growing rumors of a new twist to the crime in Let’s Talk About Maud had electrified the town and kept the story alive, which she didn’t appreciate one bit. “Any news?”
“Now, Georgia Lee,” John said. “You know I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation—”
Investigation. So it was active. “And I can’t comment on your funding for next year. Should you ask. Again.”
“Fair enough.” John crunched a potato chip loaded with dip.
Georgia Lee leaned back in her chair. Somehow she had known, deep down, this day would come, even when she didn’t remember that she had played the lead role in Warren’s death. The shock of it coming to fruition still unsettled her.
“Why on earth is this an open case?” she asked. “You’ve got the confession; you’ve got the body. Surely you’ve got enough to convict.” The words came out of her mouth so easily it made her stomach turn. But she couldn’t let him believe she cared for any specific reason.
“There’s always more to the story than what gets released,” Benjamin said.
“Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve been suckered by those idiots at Let’s Talk About Maud too?” she asked. John chuckled; Benjamin did not. “Here’s what I think,” she said. She’d thought a lot about this moment since she’d gone to pizza with Jane, lying in bed all day thinking about her soul and her busted brain and her future. She had come prepared. “I think what Jane Mooney said is true.” She punctuated her sentences with a pointed finger. “I believe she hit that man over the head like she said and she truly believed she had killed him, but what really happened is that he got knocked out due to drinking more than anything and then stumbled into the river and drowned.” Benjamin didn’t disguise his skepticism. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” She turned to John. “How many bodies have they found up and down the county in this decade alone?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Benjamin asked. Now he looked alive. Nice little spark in his eyes.
“The river takes a lot of our men,” she said. “The currents are swift, and the men a little too certain of their skill. That or they fall down drunk, like Warren.”
“All men?”
“Hashtag all men. As far as I know.”
Benjamin shook his head at her joke. “How many men?”
“A normal amount,” John added. “Don’t get too excited.”
Benjamin considered the comment with what Georgia Lee recognized as pure astonishment. “And what do you consider norm—”
“She’s exaggerating.” John gave her a look.
“I’m not! There have been several accidents near the lock and dam. Look it up.”
“Nobody from around here,” John explained, as if that made it okay. “Just folks upriver. Out-of-towners.”
“Not true,” she said. “Warren lived in Maud. And there was that one guy—”
Benjamin retrieved his phone to swipe and type.
“It’s nothing to get worked up about. Georgia Lee’s just yanking your chain.” John leaned in and shook his head at Georgia Lee like he would a rotten but playful puppy. He hated when she brought up anything that alluded to the job responsibilities he and the station preferred to shirk, like investigation or interrogation—not that there was much to do, mind you. About the only thing they were willing to do without complaint was collect overtime for off-duty detail assignments. She’d never seen a lazier bunch. They reminded her of the guys who had come over for her dad’s poker nights. All bluster and no bite. At least their inaction allowed Maud to keep the crime stats down. And, fingers crossed, away from her involvement in a murder.