“What is?”
“The way my mother is with that trailer,” Haydee said. “I was thinking about it the other day, because Kenny said something to me about it. That Demarkian person is going around talking to everybody who had anything at all to do with Chester Morton when he disappeared. Kenny was saying we should expect he’d want to talk to us, because, you know, we lived right next door. But I was thinking about it. It was more than that. He used to come over to our trailer, and my mother used to go over to his. I remember it.”
“How can you remember it? You must have been two.”
“I was six,” Haydee said. “And I do remember it. But then, you know, when the cops came looking for Chester Morton there was that one who called DCS and then I went into foster care for a while. I remember that, too.”
“I remember all the times I’ve been in foster care,” Desiree said. “That was a load of frigging crud. I can’t believe they think that helps people.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. There it is. I’d better go back to my place and have a shower. I’ve got two classes and work. Sometimes I think I’m going to get so tired, I’m going to fall over.”
“What if Mike is back there waiting for you? Maybe you could take your shower here. If you were quiet, you know what I mean.”
“I need clean clothes,” Haydee said, yawning. “Besides, I don’t think it’s going to matter. I saw them go out after I came over here. They actually looked pretty happy. Mike was singing.”
“That must have been interesting.”
“It was. Anyway, they must have gotten some money from someplace, because they went out. Maybe Mike robbed a liquor store. That would be hysterical. But my money’s in the credit union , and Mike can’t get at it, and that’s all I really care.”
2
Darvelle Haymes knew women who liked to say, “I told you so,” and sometimes she was one of them, but this was not one of those times. “I told you so” was only fun if you were saying it about somebody else. You told Sheila she’d get fat if she kept eating those doughnuts and she got fat? I told you so! You told your mother-in-law that she’d end in a car wreck if she kept running the stop sign at that intersection? I told you so! You told your boyfriend that the coming of this Gregor Demarkian was going to be a disaster for the both of you? I told you—wait. No, it wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t even funny.
Darvelle propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at Kyle sleeping on the other side of the bed. He was dead to the world, and she had no idea how. If she had rotating shifts like that morning one week, afternoons the next week, evenings the week after that, she’d be losing her mind. She’d need pills just to sleep at all. Kyle had sex, then he rolled over and crashed, and he never moved until the alarm went off.
Darvelle got the alarm clock from the bedside table and turned the alarm off before it could ring. She wasn’t going to get back to sleep no matter what she did, and she had a full day ahead of her.
Or she didn’t. She went into the bathroom, shut the door behind her, and turned on the shower. Last night, two of her clients had called to cancel their appointments for today. She still had three more that she knew of, but the trend was unsettling. Maybe there got to be a point where murders were not interesting but only frightening, or where knowing a potential murderer—what?
She stepped under the showerhead and closed her eyes. Did anybody really think she might have murdered Chester Morton? And then what? Hauled his body all over Mattatuck? That great big body, that lardass body, that—but that was ridiculous. She didn’t have the upper body strength to throw Chester Morton’s corpse over that billboard, and anybody who looked at her had to know that. And what was she supposed to have done at the trailer park? Driven her car in there, dragged Chester’s body out of the trunk or the backseat, dragged it some more into the trailer—her head hurt just thinking about it. She was pretty sure people were suspecting her nonetheless.
She got her hair washed and stepped out. The bathroom was steamed up. The effect was uncomfortable. It was getting on into September, but it was not that hot.
She went back into the bedroom for some underwear and a robe, and found that Kyle was up, up and moving around somewhere in the house. She put on the underwear and the robe and wandered out into the kitchen.
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making us breakfast. You got up.”
“I thought you didn’t have to. I thought you didn’t work until afternoon or something today.”