Flowering Judas(106)

TWO

1

Charlene Morton knew that they would be coming—Gregor Demarkian, certainly, but almost just as certainly, Howard Androcoelho. She’d heard about the bodies near the dam almost before the police had. Mattatuck was that kind of place. The guy who found the bodies called his brother-in-law before he called 911. His brother-in-law told his wife, his wife told her sister-in-law, her sister-in-law worked in Morton’s front office. Yes, Charlene knew they would be coming. It was the way these people think.

There were two cars parked behind the family cars in the driveway, and two young men waiting behind the steering wheels. Why should it surprise her that Gregor Demarkian came with his own driver? Maybe the town was paying for that. That would be something to bring up at the next town council meeting.

Actually, Charlene missed the old town government, where everybody got together at a town meeting and voted on every little thing. You could do a lot with town meetings if you knew how to negotiate them.

The doorbell rang. Charlene pushed her hair back into place. She should have gone in to work today. She always did go in to work. It was just that, over the last few weeks, she had been feeling more and more tired.

The doorbell rang again. Charlene went out into the foyer and opened it. It was Howard Androcoelho who was standing right there in front, as if having someone she’d known forever come and talk to her about these things would make them better.

She stepped back and let Howard and Gregor Demarkian come inside.

“We checked for you over at the office,” Howard said, “they said you weren’t feeling well and you’d stayed home. Mr. Demarkian here wants to talk to you.”

“I know,” Charlene said.

She turned her back to them and marched into the living room. She sat down in the big wingback chair that was always called hers in the family, and folded her hands in her lap. The two men came in. Howard looked around vaguely and then sat down on the couch. Gregor Demarkian remained standing.

“Well?” Charlene said.

“Well.” Howard cleared his throat. “We’ve had a murder,” he said finally. “We’ve had two murders, actually. Althea Michaelman and Mike Katowski. You remember Althy, Charlene. She went to school with us.”

“Of course I remember Althy,” she said. “Not that she was ever a friend of mine. Or of yours, from what I remember. What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Well. For one thing, it was right over in the back there, near the dam, you could walk to the Morton offices from it. We’re looking at everybody and everyplace in the area, you know, to see if anybody saw anything.”

“To see if ‘anybody saw anything’? Our offices close at five o’clock and they don’t open again until eight.”

“Yes, I know, Charlene, but you know how it is. Just in case somebody saw something. Just in case somebody was working late.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Charlene said. “Nobody works that kind of late.”

“Yes. Well.” Howard was looking more uncomfortable by the second. Charlene wanted to laugh out loud. “We have to check, you know,” he said. “It’s not good police work if we don’t check. And if anybody is going to know what’s going on in the neighborhood, it’s going to be you, Charlene. You know that.”

“I don’t know what’s going on in that neighborhood at one o’clock in the morning. I’m home in bed at one o’clock in the morning.”

“Yes, well. I know, Charlene, I know, but there’s more to it. Mr. Demarkian here had an idea. And I’ve got to admit, it’s kind of an interesting idea.”

“What idea was that?” Charlene said.

Gregor Demarkian seemed to have been looking out the window. Now he turned back to them. Charlene didn’t like Gregor Demarkian. She didn’t like him one bit. He had bad eyes.

“Well?” she said.

“There were two bodies,” Demarkian said. “They were both found, shot, in the front seat of a black pickup truck. A black Ford pickup truck.”

“So?” Charlene said.

“Your son, I believe, had a black Ford pickup truck.”

“So?” Charlene said again. “That was twelve years ago. And he didn’t take it with him. There are a lot of black Ford pickup trucks.”

“I agree, but the age of this one looks to be about right,” Gregor said. “You say Chester didn’t take the truck with him when he left. What happened to it?”

“I kept it,” Charlene said.

“Are you still keeping it?” Gregor asked.

“No,” Charlene said. “No. After a while, I don’t remember how long, after a while I got rid of it. I hated looking at it.”