at the ceiling with bored expressions on their plastic faces.
“Why don’t you take off your boots?” Iris says and all that’s missing from that suggestion is:
“No thanks. I’m not staying long.”
“Maybe not but you’re trackin’ mud all over my floor.”
I look down and see that’s she’s right, but I’ve got no intention of taking off my boots. I’m sure I’m not the first visitor she’s had who ignored the mat inside the front door in their eagerness to be right where I’m standing now.
“It isn’t so bad that a quick sweeping won’t take care of it.”
“If you say so.” She walks into the room, making her way around that obstacle course of candles with the sure step only someone who put them there could enjoy. The flames dance in her wake. The combined heat from those candles brings sweat to my brow and I search for a chair. There’s only one, at the foot of the bed, facing it as if it’s there for spectators. I sit. The room is large, and there’s a door to the left of it, leading to a small kitchen area, and presumably a bathroom beyond. Iris stops here and leans against the doorframe. “How do you like it?”
“Black,” I reply without missing a beat. “Two sugars. You trying to save money on the power bill?”
“No. Lights don’t like me.”
“How’s that?”
“I turn ’em off.”
“Why?”
“Not on purpose. They just switch off whenever I’m around ’em. If I’m walkin’ the street, the lamps’ll go out. Same in here. Turn on a light and it’ll stay on just fine if I’m in the other room. Soon as I come in though…” She snaps her fingers. “Dark. Radios and TVs go crazy sometimes too.”
“Oh.”
“Been like that since the day I was born. Streetlight outside my house went off and the TV went snowy. Must be my magnetic personality.”
“Interesting.” My voice makes it clear I think no such thing. “Can’t say I remember you having that problem when you ran the store.”
“Well, it was usually daylight, wasn’t it? And when it wasn’t, I used hurricane lamps. You remember, you used to call ’em quaint, made you feel like you were at sea.”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t remember that at all.”
“Maybe because they were better times. Some people hang on to those like prized jewels; others toss ’em as soon as misery comes a-callin’.”
She disappears into the kitchen, where I hear the hissing sound of her filling the kettle, the scratch of a match and the whumping sound of a gas ring catching fire.
The bed is rumpled, and I have to wonder whether or not Kyle even spent time in it tonight. I was sure I’d find him here, but for whatever reason, his visit was a short one.
A few moments later, with impatience ticking a countdown in my head, Iris emerges from the kitchen. She’s holding a single cup of coffee, which she brings to me. “I’m out of sugar,” she says. “Hope it’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” I take a sip that scalds my upper lip and tongue, but I don’t mind. It chases away some of the exhaustion that’s clinging to me like a shroud.
Iris stands close enough for my breath to warm her belly, and crosses her arms. “So you’re lookin’ for Kyle?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a little late.”
“I figured.”
She turns and makes her way through the labyrinth of candles to the bed, and watches me as she unbuttons the shirt and slips out of it. God she’s a pretty thing, but I avert my eyes to the vapid stare of the mannequin in the opposite corner while she tosses the shirt on the bed and slips beneath the covers. “You’re welcome to join me,” she says. “Despite what you might think, that’s not an offer I extend to just anyone.”
“Then you may want to change your ad.”
“Funny. You got nice ears, Sheriff. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“How long was Kyle here?”
She plumps her pillows and sits back, the sheet drawn up over her breasts, nipples hard points beneath the flimsy material. “Not long. He wanted some company but…” She shrugs, puts again. “Seems he wasn’t up for it tonight.”
“He say anything to you about what happened?”
“Sure. Told me Eddie’s burned. No great loss if you ask me.” She sighs, then her lips curl in amusement. “Bet you’re wonderin’ why you never saw me up there with the rest of you sinners, aintcha?”
In truth, I wasn’t, but I am now, so I nod.
“Well I’m not real sure about that, Sheriff. Maybe it’s because women in my line of work get special consideration. Maybe we’re needed just like we’ve been needed all through history, so when it comes time to open that great big book of black sins, we get left out. Or maybe it’s because Reverend Hill, despite his bible thumpin’, was still a man at the back of it and needed his poke just like everyone else and couldn’t rightly put me up on the cross for givin’ folks, and
“What else did Kyle tell you?”
“That he wasn’t sorry to see those folks killed. But he was lyin’.”
“How do you know that?”
“Call it women’s intuition. You sure you wouldn’t like to join me in here where it’s warm?” She pats the empty space beside her. “You look like you could use the release.”
“No.”
“No charge.”
“I said no.”
“All right,” she sighs.
“So tell me.”
“I don’t think he gave a shit about the black man. In fact, I’m pretty sure he didn’t, was probably glad to see the back of him if the way he talked was any indication.”
“Wintry? Why?”
“Because he had the murderin’ bitch.”
“Why would that—?”
“Wake up Sheriff. I know you’re tired, but you ain’t stupid. Kyle had a thing for her. Didn’t mind tellin’ me neither, ’cuz y’know… I’m just good for one thing, right?”
She’s still wearing that smile, but a hardness has entered her eyes, splintering the candle light and I feel a small knot of shame because that’s exactly how I’ve always looked at her—Iris, former store-owner, current whore.
“Didn’t give a shit about Cobb, or Gracie, and didn’t care too much that he put a bullet in that young thief’s belly. Only one he really cared about was Flo. Said he’d planned to run away with her, get away from Milestone and start a good life somewhere.” She snorts a little laugh. “You raised yourself a gullible one, Sheriff.”
The coffee tastes sour and I set it down between my feet. “What else?”
“Well, I’ve already told you he needed lovin’ and I put on my best show for his poor soul. Didn’t work though. He wasn’t—”
“Yeah, you told me. He say anything else?”
She stares at me for a moment, and the expression on her face is unreadable. The light warms one side of her face, leaving the other in shadow. She sits forward, and the sheet slides down, exposing her breasts for a moment before she draws up her knees and crosses her arms around them. “He’s gunnin’ for you, you know.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Know why?”
