The Kindest Lie(66)

Dino touched her wrist. “I’ve been thinking. Your grandmother’s been working hard around the house lately and I thought it might be nice for her to get away. Not too f-f-far, mind you. Maybe Chicago for a weekend. Something nice downtown, you know.”

Mama didn’t do a lot of frills. She was a no-nonsense, frugal woman. But perhaps Ruth had no idea what her grandmother liked these days. Once she married Xavier, their calls became less frequent, and as more time passed, the distance became just as comfortable as the closeness they had once shared.

She tried to picture Dino and Mama wining and dining in some swanky hotel on the Magnificent Mile and she couldn’t. And the way he said it, it appeared Dino was asking for her permission, her blessing. She had no right to forbid it.

“That sounds like a wonderful time. Maybe Xavier and I can make some hotel and restaurant recommendations.”

Dino exhaled, as though he’d been holding his breath the whole time. “Yes, I’d like that.”

He looped the plastic bag with the wings around his wrist and sat a wide-brimmed hat atop his head. “I’ll be seeing you.”

The bells on the front door jingled when Dino walked out. Ruth took a seat on the end bar stool and watched Wally hang glasses by their stems on a long rack behind the bar. Two of his kids went to high school with her, and his oldest had played basketball with Eli. Everyone knew Wally. He was a fixture here in Ganton, but she’d left town before reaching the legal drinking age.

“What can I get you, pretty lady?” he said, and she couldn’t tell whether he remembered her.

“Right now, I’m just curious if you know this guy. I read about him in the paper.” She held her cell phone out to him with a photo of DeAngelo’s mug shot.

Leaning across the bar, Wally glanced at her phone. “I can’t place him right now, but I can’t say I don’t know him, either.”

Disappointed, Ruth said, “That’s fine. It was worth a shot.”

“Wait, let me see it again.” This time, Wally took her phone and brought it up to his face. Twisting his handlebar mustache, he frowned.

“You recognize him,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t at first. But yeah, of course I know him. Wish I didn’t. That’s the lawyer, DeAngelo, who got locked up in that whole baby deal. Took advantage of some good people. He was just in here about a month ago. Made sure to come in when we were slow, if you know what I mean. Didn’t have to see too many people.”

Ruth looked past him to the bottles of liquor lining the wall. “So he’s out of prison and here in Ganton?” Her heartbeat quickened, and she recognized the fear now that she was getting closer to the man who might have the answers she’d been looking for.

“He did his time at Terre Haute and now he’s got a place over on Wayland, just outside of town. Out in the middle of nowhere. A lot of folks wanted to wring his neck for what he did, so it’s safer for everybody that he keeps his distance.”

Terre Haute. The federal prison. She’d been using the database for state correctional facilities. That’s why his name hadn’t turned up in her search. Not once did Wally ask why she cared to know about DeAngelo. She got the feeling he enjoyed showing off his knowledge of legendary Ganton characters—criminal and otherwise.

“Oh,” added Wally, “if you’re looking for your brother, he’s back there at the card table.” So he did remember her.

She hadn’t been looking, but Mama had been right about Eli spending most of his time here now that he was out of work. In a far corner of the bar Ruth eyed the card table where the best bid whist players were crowned. She spotted Eli sitting with several guys and a few women who used to work on the line at Fernwood. She vaguely recognized the older ones and lamented how it’d been months since they’d lost their jobs. Still, they carried the smell of plastic on their skin from their days at the plant.

“Rise and fly, my people, rise and fly,” said Freddie, an old man with skin like dry, shriveled autumn leaves. If you lost, you had to get up and go so the next player could have your seat in the game.

If any of them held anger in their hearts, they either hid it or released it here. Cards slapped the table and people talked smack because they took this card-playing thing very seriously.

“Don’t mess with this bitch,” Eli said as he slammed a queen of spades on the table.

Eli had learned bid from Papa. Many of the whites from Fernwood had played bridge, euchre, or rummy until they caught on to bid under the tutelage of Blacks at the plant.

“Ruth Tuttle. Is that you over there? Your brother didn’t tell me you were home for Christmas.” Gwen, who had worked as an equipment tester, had to be in her sixties by now, but she still looked good, as most Black women did with age, all the years settling in her hips and on her face making her appear strong and assured, not old. She had put three sons through college with her plant job.

“My brother’s getting forgetful in his old age. Good seeing you, Gwen.”

Smiling, Ruth rested her hands on the back of Eli’s chair. He grunted and she checked out his promising hand. He had partnered with Gwen for bid, and in the smoky shadows of the bar, Gwen’s eyes followed his and right away Ruth could tell from the way her tongue ran over her top lip that she had the big joker and she was letting Eli know they were about to grab another book.