her.
The radio was tuned to an album rock station, but the news was on. It didn’t catch her attention until she heard the name.
“… Arnold Garvis, who was found dead early this morning in his Washington, D.C. apartment, the apparent victim of accidental carbon monoxide poisoning. His father, Senator Wilson Garvis, has retreated to his Louisiana home where he and his family are in mourning. Arnold Garvis was twenty-two years old. In the Supreme Court today, there will be… “
But Sherry had already tuned out. “Andy! Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” he said as he came down the hall.
“On the news just now.”
“No.”
“It just said Arnold Garvis was found dead in his Washington, D.C. apartment early this morning, dead from accidental carbon monoxide poisoning. Can you believe that?
“Well, David said they’d come up with some other reason for his death. Sounds like they did.”
“But what about us?” Sherry said with wide eyes.
“What
“
“Are you gonna start on that again?”
“I’m
“You and your bad feelings. Am I gonna have to fix breakfast myself, or what?”
“No, I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it,” she said with irritation, frustrated that he didn’t care.
Sherry remembered the two men who had come to take Arnie away, the promise they had made to cause trouble for them if they didn’t let them in to get Arnie. If they
Sherry was worried. Very worried. And she couldn’t shake it.
She started breakfast and tried to push the bothersome thoughts from her mind.
“I want you to go over to Aunt Rose’s today,” Anna said.
“No! I don’t want to!”
“Please, Kendra?”
“No. I promise, I won’t even go get the mail. I just want to stay here and watch TV. I don’t feel good. My finger throbs.”
Anna sighed. “You promise? You’ll stay in the trailer?”
“I promise. It’s already hot. It’s gonna be too hot to go outside.” Kendra wondered if that qualified as a white lie. What difference did it make if she went outside or not while Mommy was gone? It wouldn’t hurt Mommy if she never knew about it, would it? It qualified as a white lie as far as Kendra was concerned.
“Well… okay. If you promise.”
“I
“Before I leave, I’m going to go get Marc’s phone number so you can call him if you need anything, okay?”
“‘Kay.”
“How’s your finger feel now?”
“It’s throbbing.”
“You can take a couple pills with your breakfast.”
Reznick was pouring a cup of coffee when someone knocked on his door. He took his coffee with him to the door and pulled it open. Anna stood outside. She smiled up at him.
“Hi, Marc.”
“Hi.” He pushed open the screen door and came down the steps. “What’s up?”
“I’m leaving Kendra home alone again today. I was wondering if I could get your cell phone number, just in case she needs something. Would you mind if she called you?”
“Not at all. I don’t think I’m going in to work today, so I’ll be around.”
“Oh, good. Thank you.” She held a yellow Post It pad in one hand and a pen in the other. Reznick gave her his cell phone number and she wrote it down.
Reznick bowed his head and looked around. The blood stains were everywhere. Speckles of it lead to his trailer, then across the way to another trailer, then diagonally to another. It was all over the pavement and concrete.
“I’ll see you later, then,” Anna said.
“Yeah, see ya.”
As Anna walked away, Reznick wondered how long it would take for someone to notice the bloodstains on the concrete and pavement, how long it would take for the police to get involved.
Anna walked slowly on her way back to the trailer, looking at the trails of spattered blood all over the cracked pavement of the road. It zigzagged here and there, and it had all come off of her as she’d walked away from the man she’d murdered.
When she’d awakened that morning, it had felt like a nightmare she’d had the night before. A horrible nightmare that clung to the backs of her eyelids in startlingly vivid images. Then, when she remembered it had not been a nightmare, when it all had come flooding back into her mind, the whole bloody, gory thing, she’d gotten out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, where she’d closed and locked the door, knelt at the toilet, and vomited, trembling, her head throbbing. It had gone on for a while, mostly dry heaves, as if her body were trying to expel her guilt. When she was finished, she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, then stared at herself in the mirror.
She did not have time to worry about it. She had to go about her day. She had to go to work. She could not worry about how she was going to talk to Kendra about those pictures on the Internet, not now. She had to go to work. She couldn’t call in sick or anything, not now, not with this new job. She had to be there, and on time.
Anna walked back to her trailer and went inside.
While the coffee maker made coffee, Muriel Snodgrass opened her front door and stepped outside on the porch. It was going to be another scorcher. In her left hand, she held a letter to her sister in Bend, Oregon, sealed in a stamped envelope, and in her right, a cigarette, which she put in the corner of her mouth. It dangled there, sending up tendrils of smoke as she went down the front steps.
Her sister Alice had never gotten a computer. She was the only person Muriel knew who was not yet online. Muriel kept in touch with all her other relatives and friends by e-mail, but not with Alice. She had to stay in touch with Alice the old-fashioned way – with a letter in an addressed envelope with a stamp on it.
Muriel wore a sleeveless lime-green blouse, a pair of stretchy black shorts, and pale-blue mules on her feet. A sliver of her pale, hanging belly peeked out from beneath the bottom of the blouse. She started on her way to the mailboxes to post the letter to Alice. Her slippers shuffled over the cracked, broken pavement as she walked.
The cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth and she puffed on it now and then, exhaling smoke through
