I can always stop on the way back, he told himself.
But I won’t.
I’d better not.
Couldn’t hurt to thank her, though.
Yes it could. It could hurt a lot.
The house at 354 Tenth Street in Dendron looked small and well-kept. A picket fence enclosed its neatly trimmed lawn. A Honda Civic was parked in its driveway.
Sam stopped at the curb and climbed out. He hurried toward the front door, eager to conclude the hunt that had occupied so much of his time for the past two days. He didn’t expect resistance. He expected her to play it cool, even if she were responsible for Dexter’s murder. As he reached the door, however, doubts crept in. Should he notify the local police? He’d have to phone them, anyway, if it came down to an arrest.
That could wait.
For all he knew, Thelma had already returned to Ashburg.
He stood off to the side, as a precaution, and pressed the doorbell. He heard it ring. His hand lowered to his revolver.
The door opened and a petite, white-haired woman looked out at him. ‘Yes?’ she asked.
‘Is Thelma here?’
‘Why, yes she is. You must be Mr Wyatt.’
He nodded.
‘Marjorie called. She told us to expect you, but we thought you’d be here ages ago.’
‘I had some other business,’ he said, wishing now that he hadn’t delayed so long.
‘Won’t you come in?’
He followed her into the living room. Thelma, sitting in a rocker, watched him over the rim of a cocktail glass. Her half-shut eyes had the same lazy insolence Sam knew from her photo. She looked much older, though: thin, with a sallow complexion and harsh lines.
‘I wasn’t so hard to find, was I?’ She smirked and took a drink. ‘Mother, how about disappearing for a bit?’
‘Would Mr Wyatt care for a drink?’ asked the older woman.
‘No he wouldn’t,’ Thelma answered.
‘There’s no call to be rude, darling.’
‘No call to be polite. This man wants to bust me for killing Dexter.’
‘I’m not here to bust you,’ Sam said.
‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
‘I just want to …’
‘I know, ask a few questions. Good-bye Mother.’
Looking peeved, the old woman scurried from the room.
‘Okay,’ said Thelma, ‘what do you want to know?’
‘Let’s start at the beginning.’
‘How about getting it over with? You’ve already got my story from Elmer and Marjorie and Ticia and God-only-knows who else.’
‘I’d like to hear it from you.’
She sighed. ‘Elmer’s right about you. Okay. I get into town Tuesday afternoon, check in at my sister’s house. Have supper with them, then make my merry way to the Sunset Lounge where I meet my old friend Elmer. We hoist a few, then take off in his Volvo, spread his blanket on the eighth hole of the golf course and go humpy-humpy. Okay? The automatic sprinklers go on, and we get drenched. Never fuck on a golf course.
‘Elmer takes me back to Marjorie’s, and I hit the sack. Wednesday, I meet Elmer for lunch. He takes me shopping, so I can pick up a few items for Marjorie. I eat supper with the family, then take off with Ticia for the Sunset. We meet Elmer there, and I meet Joe.’
‘Joe who?’
‘Joe Schmow, who the hell knows? So me and Joe go off together for a merry time.’
‘When?’
She smirked. ‘Eleven or twelve. I didn’t clock out. Who knows?’
‘Do you know where you went?’
‘Not to the golf course, you can bet.’
‘Where?’
‘Here’s the good part, the part you’ve been waiting for. You figure I went over to Dexter’s place and chopped him up, right?’
‘Did you?’
‘Hate to disappoint you.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Stiff City. Oakhurst Cemetery.’ She swirled her ice cubes, and took a drink. ‘You haven’t lived till you’ve gone humpy-humpy in the graves. It adds a certain thrill. Makes it terribly exciting, like screwing in public without the scandal.’
‘How long were you there?’ Sam asked.
‘Oh, an hour.’
‘Nobody can prove you were there.’
‘Only Joe. I’m sure, if it’s necessary, we can dig him up.’
‘You’d better hope so.’
She shook her head, smiling with one side of her face. ‘I don’t imagine it’ll be necessary.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, I saw something that will interest you.’ She took another drink. ‘Guess what I saw.’
‘Why don’t you just tell me?’
‘I’d have told you, long ago, if you hadn’t insisted on my repeating all that useless trivia.’
‘What did you see at the cemetery?’
‘Not a what, but a who.’
‘Okay.’
‘I saw Dexter.’ She licked her lips and took another drink. ‘It was only by the purest luck that I happened to see him. If I’d been under Joe, at the time … Most men prefer it that way, do you?’
Sam didn’t answer.
Thelma chuckled. ‘They like to feel they’re controlling the action, get insecure if the gal’s on top. At any rate, Joe isn’t that way. So I was merrily riding him along, and I happened to be facing that creepy old house where all those people got murdered – the Sherman house?’
‘Sherwood.’
‘At any rate, I happened to be looking that way and saw Dexter go in the back door.’
‘He entered the Sherwood house?’
‘That’s what I said. He went in, and I didn’t see him come out.’
‘Are you sure it was Dex?’
‘I couldn’t see his face, obviously. But he was Dexter’s size, and wearing a police uniform and Stetson just like Dexter’s. Oh, it was him all right.’
‘Why didn’t you notify someone?’
‘Why should I? His business is no business of mine. Especially now.’ She sucked an ice cube into her mouth. It muffled her voice as she said, ‘God rest his soul.’
27
‘Hey jack-off!’
Bill ignored Nate’s voice, and finished stuffing his books into his overflowing locker. He let go. As the books started to avalanche, he slammed the metal door. He turned to his friend. ‘Doons catch you yet?’
‘Doons couldn’t catch shit if he tripped over it.’
‘Where’d you hide?’
‘The girls’ locker room.’
‘Sure.’
‘I tell you, my dick’s been hard so long I’m starting to take it for granite.’
Bill shook his head. ‘You must’ve spent all afternoon thinking up that one.’
‘Nah. I’m a natural wit.’
They walked up the crowded hallway, Bill watching as Nate collided with students in his way. Girls and smaller boys only. When boys larger than Nate drew near, he sidestepped out of range.
Bill followed him across the hall, curious until he saw a large-bosomed blonde ahead. Nate altered course and walked into her.
‘Watch it,’ she snapped.
‘I think you busted my arm!’
‘Bull-twinkie,’ she said.
Nate turned to Bill. ‘Busted my arm. Get it? Busted?’
‘Very funny.’
‘What’re you, still pissed off about your sweetie Beth? Or is it Miss Bennett? Look, it’s time we get on the ball with Bennett, you know what I mean? It’s now or never, do or die, shit or get off the commode. Hey hey, look who’s here.’
Bill saw Eric Prince walking up the hall.
‘Hey dork-face,’ Nate called.
Eric saw him, and stopped.
‘Hey dingle-berry, come here.’
Eric took a single step forward. Several students pushed past him.
Nate stopped in front of him. ‘Trick or treat,’ he said.
‘I haven’t got …’
r /> ‘How much have you got?’
Eric shrugged.
‘Well check, turd-head.’
He pushed a bandaged hand into a front pocket of his trousers, and brought out a comb and handkerchief.
‘Try the other pocket.’
Wincing, he shifted a load of books to his left hand.
‘What’s the matter with your hand?’ Nate asked.
‘I cut it,’ Eric said, reaching into a pocket.
‘Sure. I bet you wore a hole in it jacking off.’
Eric’s right hand appeared. He held it out to Nate, and opened it. ‘This is all I’ve got,’ he said.
Bill glanced at the nickels and pennies.
‘That’s all?’ Nate asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘How’m I supposed to exist on such a pittance? Answer me that.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Keep it,’ Nate said, and slapped his hand up. The change flew, several coins striking a nearby girl in the face.
‘Come on, Bill.’
As they walked away, Bill looked back. Eric was still standing where they’d left him, surrounded by talking, shoving, laughing students who passed him like a stream swirling around a rock. For a moment, Bill felt a little sorry for the kid. Then he saw a corner of Eric’s mouth twist into a sneer. A chill prickled the back of his neck, and he turned away.
‘Okay, so here’s my plan for Bennett.’
‘I won’t let you flatten her tires,’ Bill said. They went outside, and down the concrete stairs. ‘Why don’t we just forget about her?’
‘Hey, you haven’t heard my new plan, yet. What we do, we get in my car and wait by the faculty parking lot. When she comes out, we follow her home. How’s that sound?’
‘I don’t know,’ Bill said.
‘We’ll hang back – she’ll never be the wiser.’
‘What’ll we do when we get there?’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’
‘Then why go at all?’
‘So we’ll know where she lives, dildo.’
28
From a distance, Eric watched the cheerleaders practice. He was still shaken up by his encounter with Nate, but he soon forgot about it as the girls leaped and twirled, and kicked their bare legs.
They all looked so beautiful.
Especially Aleshia. Her slim legs were golden in the afternoon sunlight. When she whirled around, her pleated skirt flew high, giving Eric glimpses of her thighs and green underpants. When she jumped, plunging her arms at the sky, her sweater slid up and uncovered her belly for an instant.
He knew she didn’t wear bras to school.
If only she would jump higher …
Once, she did a cartwheel and the sweater dropped nearly to her ribs before she whipped to her feet and it fell again into place. He imagined her doing another cartwheel, this time her sweater sliding down all the way and uncovering her small, pale breasts.
He realized he had an erection. Glancing down, he saw it pushing out his corduroys. He folded his hands in front of the bulge, and turned his eyes toward Beth.
Though nowhere as pretty as Aleshia, Beth was fairly cute. Doing the cheers, she seemed more enthusiastic than the others. Compared to her, the rest of the girls looked lazy, almost bored.
Her arms snapped forward as the voices chanted, ‘Push ’em back, push ’em back, waaaay back.’ At the cheer’s end, she bounded from the ground, arching her back, waving her arms, kicking her feet up high behind her. Eric looked quickly at Aleshia and found her in mid-air, her sweater up, her belly showing pale and smooth.
He imagined sliding his hands up her belly, up under the sweater where it was warm and dark, and taking her breasts in his hands, holding them gently, his palms barely touching the velvet skin.
‘Hi Eric!’ Beth called, waving at him. ‘We’re almost done.’
He nodded and yelled, ‘Okay.’
A few of the girls huddled around Beth. Eric guessed they were talking about him. He wished he could hear them, but they spoke quietly and the distance was great.
What if they’d seen his bulge?
How could he face Beth, after that?
The girls weren’t giggling, though. Soon, they stopped talking and resumed practice.
Eric turned away. He walked along the side of the field, his back to the cheerleaders. Though he wished he could watch them, he didn’t want to embarrass himself by getting another erection. So he walked along, listening.
‘We are the Spartans, the mighty-mighty Spartans! Everywhere we go-o, people oughtta kno-ow, who we are so we tell ’em. We are the Spartans …’
He saw the football team ahead, running a scrimmage. The coach was there, so none of the jerks were likely to try anything with Eric. Just to be safe, though, he turned away and walked toward the school.
He glanced back at the cheerleaders and saw them in a line, kicking their legs high.
Finally, he reached the main building. He sat on the steps to wait for Beth. From there, he could barely hear the chants of the cheerleaders. He watched the girls dance and leap, but they were tiny now, their features less distinct. He found it difficult to tell one from another. Beth, the only stocky girl of the five, was easy to spot, but he couldn’t make up his mind which of the others was Aleshia.
As he waited, the coldness of the concrete seeped through his pants. He began to feel as if he were sitting on a slab of ice. Raising himself off the step, he slid his grammar book beneath him. He sat on it. The book felt warm under his buttocks.
Opening his three-ring binder to a blank page, he began to doodle. He drew a revolver, but it turned out crooked, the barrel curving upward as if bent by Superman. His Bowie knife came out well. He inked in drops of blood falling from its blade. Encouraged by his success with the knife, he tried to draw a P-40 Kittyhawk. The fuselage looked good, but he had trouble with the wings and tail. He went ahead, regardless, and drew the shark’s mouth on the engine cowling. When he was done, the combat plane looked lopsided but vicious.
On the back of the page, he drew an oblong and imagined it was a girl’s torso. Aleshia’s torso. He sketched breasts onto it. They were merely two circles with dots in the middle, but as his pen stroked the paper he could almost feel their smooth flesh.
Then he heard voices nearby.
The cheerleaders, done with practice, were wandering in his direction.
With a few swift strokes, he drew a nose between the breasts, a grinning mouth below them. He put ears on the torso, and a patch of scraggly hair on top.
‘Okay, see you tonight,’ Beth said, breaking away from the group. She headed for Eric, while the other girls continued around the side of the school.
Eric stood up.
‘I hope you didn’t mind waiting,’ Beth said.
‘No, it was fun.’ He picked up his books, and saw that she had none. ‘Do you need anything inside?’
She shook her head, smiling. ‘I finished all my homework in study hall.’
‘Wish I had.’
They started to walk.
‘What’ve you got?’ Beth asked.
‘Homework? About six chapters of Huckleberry Finn. I fell behind this week.’
‘You have Miss Bennett, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. Fourth period.’
‘I’ve got her first. She’ll be at the party, you know.’
‘Aleshia’s?’
‘Yeah. She’s the only teacher Aleshia invited. So, what do you think we should wear?’
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
‘It’d be neat if we could go as a pair. You know, like Laurel and Hardy or the Blues Brothers.’
‘How about Tarzan and Jane?’
Laughing, she bumped him with her shoulder. ‘That’s awful. Besides, we’d freeze.’
‘We’ll be inside.’
‘You go as Tarzan, if you want. I’ll wear clothes.’
 
; Eric frowned. ‘Actually, I think we should go as something spooky. I mean, it’s Halloween. We oughtta dress up as ghosts or vampires or something.’
‘You’re right,’ Beth said. ‘Any ideas?’
‘I’d like to be something real spooky.’
‘Like what?’
Eric shrugged.
‘It’ll have to be something simple,’ Beth said as they crossed the deserted faculty parking lot. ‘We haven’t got much time.’
‘Do you have some old, ragged clothes? An old dress or something you can wreck up?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Great.’
‘What’s great?’
‘What’s the scariest thing you can think of?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. A psycho, I guess. You know, like those guys that rape girls and torture them to death.’ She wrinkled her nose at the thought. ‘Wouldn’t be much fun to dress like that.’
‘What about the living dead?’
‘Like Walkers?’
‘I was thinking Night of the Living Dead.’
‘I never saw that. I heard it’s yucky.’
‘It’s great. Anyway, we can dress up like one of those – if you don’t mind looking sloppy.’
‘No, that’s fine.’
‘You want to?’
‘Sure. I guess.’
‘Okay. So wear a dress you don’t need anymore.’
‘Is that it?’
‘I’ll bring along some stuff.’ He grinned. ‘This’ll be great.’
29
Sam turned on his headlights as darkness lowered over the road to Ashburg. He was alone in the patrol car.
No need to bring Thelma back.
He believed her story.
She hadn’t killed Dexter. She’d been in the graveyard with Joe, just as she claimed. In Sam’s mind, the condom confirmed that. It might’ve belonged to anyone, of course, but its location fit her story. From the place where they found it, she would’ve had a clear view of the Sherwood house.
As he sped over the dark road, Sam recalled that Ruthie had seen Dexter drive away from home that night. Around ten-fifteen or ten-thirty, when she went out to her car for cigarettes. Dex might’ve been on his way to the Sherwood house.
Thelma had seen him there after midnight – seen him go in, and not come out.