Real Bad Things(54)

Benjamin, though, exhibited a different work ethic from his peers. Competition had always been her strength and weakness. And now she’d have to walk it back to ensure Benjamin didn’t get too excitable about potential additional crimes.

“Regardless,” she said. “Everyone’s talking about this like it’s some big mystery and conspiracy, especially Let’s Talk About Maud,” she said. “I’ve no doubt the final conclusion will be that he simply suffered a tragic yet preventable accident by getting drunk and running his mouth.” Not untrue.

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at her. “Weren’t you friends with Jane Mooney?”

The chip Georgia Lee had grabbed nearly shook out of her hands. She quickly popped it into her mouth, wiped her salty fingers on a napkin, and shoved her hands between her crossed legs in case they decided to shake and give her away any more than her mouth already had.

“That’s not news.” She crunched as she talked, held a hand to her mouth. “Let’s Talk About Maud already mentioned it. There was only one functional high school back then,” she said. “It’s not hard to know someone.”

“I heard you spent some time at her house, over at that trailer park.”

Who had told him? Christlyn? Susannah? Perhaps Jane had turned on her after all. Or Jason? Angie? Perhaps they’d all cut a deal to protect themselves.

“Everyone went to the trailer park. That’s where they held all the parties.” She grabbed her wineglass. Something to hold, to do, while her mind spun. Examined it like it was a misplaced narcotic someone had left lying around. “But yes. We were friendly for a time.” No point in hiding the fact, especially after she’d been to the funeral and the pizza parlor. “As class president, I made it my job to be kind to new kids. I felt sorry for her and her brother. There were rumors of trouble at home. Neglect. Serious neglect,” she added. “Then she got arrested, and that’s the last I saw of her.” She tried to keep her voice even, her tone mildly disinterested. But she got shaky, and her throat constricted in that prevomit way. “Even Let’s Talk About Maud doesn’t believe I could be the gal pal.” No fun, they’d said. The straightest person ever, Christlyn had said. She wanted to smash the glass into tiny pieces and scatter them inside Benjamin’s shoes.

Benjamin held up his hands, all smiles. “I’m only doing my job, trying to figure out who might’ve known something and who might’ve been around the family at that time.”

“Now, Georgia Lee,” John said. “Don’t give Benjamin here too hard a time.”

“A hard time? I’m simply answering his questions.” They were so sensitive. She swept the air with a hand. “Oh, have another beer and loosen up. The both of you.”

“Shit, you think I don’t want to?” John said. Benjamin returned his attention to his phone. “People got it in their heads that something criminal happened, and they’re demanding answers. We never fielded as many calls and messages in all my time in Maud. I blame all them damn shows and them radio things, what do you call them?”

“Podcasts?” Georgia Lee offered. She’d never listened to one herself. Who had time? Christlyn and Susannah, probably.

“Yeah, them podcasts. They got people thinking everything’s a crime.”

Georgia Lee watched Benjamin scroll away. “Better to blame Let’s Talk About Maud.”

“Hell, I blame them all,” John said. “Unfortunately, I can’t ignore people when it comes to my job.”

“Can’t you, though?” Georgia Lee asked. John laughed along with her.

Benjamin tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Call me old fashioned, but I’d say it’s important to follow up on what appears to be a more complicated picture of what actually happened to Warren Ingram and also to a rash of men who’ve died over the years with no explanation,” he said, not a trace of humor in his tone. “Set the town at ease.”

“You confirm the exact number?” She gestured toward his pocket. Thrown off guard, he paused. “The drownings.”

“A few missing and presumed dead. But that was earlier, late ’80s and early ’90s,” he said. “After that, most were found along the shore, drowned. Several. A lot. I mean, we’re talking decades of data, so . . .”

“There you go,” she said and snapped her fingers. “Drowned and found, not murdered. End of story.”

“Well, not so much an end for the families of the men who are still missing.”

“End of story for Warren, I mean. As for the others, you’re presuming they were murdered. Where are you from?”

He looked surprised by the question. “Outside Atlanta.”

She nodded. “Went that way once. Nice people. Good food.” She brushed away the freshly mowed grass that had drifted onto her pants. “Anyway, Maud loves to talk about the missing men. They want to be like Texarkana. Have their own Moonlight Murders. Or a ghost, like the Gurdon Light. That’s a thing, you know. In Arkansas. We like our stories. You’ll learn. But everybody born here knows that, excepting Texarkana, the rest of it is all just a bunch of tall tales. Those men that haven’t turned up probably drowned too. Probably got carried off down to the Mississippi. Good luck finding them.” Before he could interrupt, she said, “But by all means, knock yourself out. Open up every cold case you can find.” She’d not even considered how useful that would be. If she could get him focused on something more interesting, he might let this case lie. “As for more recent events, is there any reason to even suspect there’s more to learn? You have the confession.” She aimed for the role of City Councilor Setting the New Guy Straight as opposed to Guilty Party Seeking Insight.