“Kyle Borden has had his head up his ass since kindergarten,” Nancy said.
Emma put milk and sugar into her coffee, especially sugar. “I was out there yesterday,” she said. “At Betsy’s house, I mean. I was out there sort of in the midafternoon. Belinda and I gave the son a ride from the library.”
“The son?” Nancy actually looked curious. Joyce looked so eager, she could have been a drug addict in partial withdrawal presented with a packet of unadulterated heroin.
Emma took a long sip of her coffee. “Yes, well. He’s only fourteen. The son, I mean. Mark. And he was at the library, and he wanted to go home, but Betsy hadn’t come for him yet. So we gave him a ride.”
“There are two sons, not just one,” Joyce said. “There’s one that’s fourteen and one that’s seven.”
“This was the one that’s fourteen,” Emma said. “Really, he looked sixteen. I was really surprised when I found out he couldn’t drive. And he’s immensely tall. Betsy isn’t. He must take after his father.”
“God,” Joyce said. “Did you see anything? Was Mrs. Barr there? Did you meet Jimmy Card? I’d absolutely die if I met Jimmy Card.”
“I didn’t see anybody,” Emma said. “There wasn’t anybody home, not even old Mrs. Toliver, as far as I know. He said they were bringing his grandmother in to see the doctor.”
“It’s all over town that he’s here,” Joyce said. “He went into Mullaney’s yesterday and bought a paper and a package of Mentos. Five or six people saw him.”
“I forgot to mention,” Nancy said. “When they’re not talking about poor Chris being cut up like a salami, they’re talking about Jimmy Card.”
“I’ll just go put this coffee away,” Joyce said.
Emma’s coffee was already cold, but that was probably because she kept putting milk in it. If she were completely honest with herself, she’d have to say she didn’t like coffee at all. She only liked having something in her hand and something to sip when she was sitting and talking with people like Nancy, who made her nervous.
“So,” Nancy said. “What’s he like? Not Jimmy Card. The son.”
“Mark,” Emma said. Then she shrugged. “He’s nice, I guess. Good-looking. And tall, like I said. Very preppy, except, you know, not preppy like around here. Preppy like in those pictures of the Kennedys. Ivy League preppy.”
“He probably actually goes to a prep school.”
“Not yet. Next year. That’s what he said, anyway. Right now he’s in some private school near where he lives. Oh, and he reads strange stuff. Like Betsy used to. That’s one thing he got from her.”
“What’s strange stuff?”
Emma concentrated. “The story about the bug. By the German guy. I forget his name, but we had to read it in senior year lit class and it was gross. And The Color Purple . I remember that because of the movie. Oprah was in it.”
“Right,” Nancy said again.
“There’s no point in getting snippy,” Emma said. “I never did see the point in books. You can get anything interesting on television or go to the movies for it. Do you remember all that stuff Betsy used to read when we were in school? Aristotle. And what’s his name, the French guy—”
“Jean-Paul Sartre.”
“That one. What good did it do her?”
Nancy looked astonished. “She’s about thirty seconds from marrying Jimmy Card, for God’s sake. She’s on television.”
“She’s still odd,” Emma said. “You can tell, even when she’s on television. What’s the point of being on television if you’re so odd nobody can stand you?”
“Oh, Christ,” Nancy said. “You’re incredible. Has this situation even penetrated your head yet? Chris is dead.”
“I know.”
“Chris’s husband was out of town. Way out of town. Which means that unless you think he hired a hit man, he’s not a suspect. Which means that everybody else in town is. Including all of us.”
“I don’t see why,” Emma said. “It’s more likely that he did it. The son. He was there. He must have seen Chris come in.”
“Betsy’s son Mark killed Chris Inglerod Barr.”
“Why not?”
“What for?”
Emma fluttered her hands in the air. “He’s odd, I told you. Just like she was. And you know what they do when they’re odd these days. Columbine. And that place in California. They kill people. So, you know, maybe he saw Chris come in and there he was with a, well, whatever you need to cut somebody’s guts out, and—”