isn’t personal, but professional. Murderers often attend the funerals of their victims, particularly in cases of sexual homicide. I brought my digital camera in my car to shoot pictures of those who will gather at the grave, just in case the local cops neglect to do it. In a town that averages only one or two murders a year, such an error wouldn’t surprise me.
As I reach the main atrium of the high school, I pass the back door of Coach Anders’s office. On impulse I walk in, meaning to have a word with the athletic director when the service is done. But like me, Anders has left the gym early. He’s sitting at his desk, staring blankly at a poster of Peyton Manning on his wall. Wade Anders is thirty, with close-cropped black hair and the body of an aging athlete past his prime. There’s a growing spare tire around his middle, but his legs and forearms still ripple with muscle. Anders is fast with a grin and smooth when dealing with the school board, but during basketball games out of town I’ve seen him lose control of his temper and be ejected from the gymnasium. The students seem to like him, but then he is all they have ever known. Anders makes me long for the coach I had at St. Stephen’s, a gentleman athlete with a paternal manner and a steely eye, a natural leader who took Kipling’s advice and treated both victory and defeat as impostors, yet still managed to bring home state titles. One raised eyebrow from him was the equivalent of a violent outburst from Wade Anders. But though my coach’s name is painted over the gym door, it’s Anders sitting in his chair now-one more sign of the way the world has changed.
”Wade?“ I say softly.
Anders starts from his trance, then comes quickly to his feet. ”Hey, Penn. What can I do for you?“
”I wanted to ask you about Marko.“
Anders shakes his head. ”That boy…what can I tell you?“
”Have you seen him at all in the past two days?“
”Not hide nor hair. He’s gone. And I’d just about sewed up a scholarship for him at Delta State. They need a new kicker, and one thing that boy can do is kick. Tell the truth, it’s about the only thing he can do on a football field.“
I give Wade the laugh he expects.
”I heard Marko was with you on the afternoon Kate died. Is that right?“
”Yessir, it is. He rode home from school with me. I worked on his kicking with him, then worked the phones for a while, talking to college coaches on his behalf. I was trying to do what I could for the damn fool. I knew he was into drugs, and I thought a college football program might get that out of his system. Even a junior college program.“
”And now?“
”Hell, Penn, if Marko doesn’t come back to school soon, he’s not even going to graduate. I already talked to his teachers. He’s practically a washout now.“
”Sit down, Wade. This isn’t a formal meeting. This is just two guys shooting the shit, okay?“
”Sure, yeah.“ Anders sits, but he doesn’t look comfortable. The fact that I’m a member of the school board as well as a lawyer is probably enough to make him nervous. But still, something seems wrong beyond simple anxiety.
”Did you give Marko a ride to the Wilsons’ house after you were done with your phone calls?“
”No, some other kids picked him up.“
”Did you know them?“
Wade shakes his head. ”They were black kids. Homeboys. Looked like druggies to me.“
”What time was that?“
”A little after six. Marko said they were going to Baton Rouge to watch a movie.“
”Did he tell you what movie?“
”Adam Sandler, I think. Don’t remember the title.“
I watch Wade in silence for a while, trying to figure out what I might be able to learn from him. He has the athlete’s discomfort with stillness. ”Has Marko ever talked to you about what he experienced back in Europe?“ I ask.
”He told me he saw his family killed. Happened in a place called Srebece-something like that, anyway. The place where he’s from. He’s got a hell of a scar on his belly, and when I asked about that, he told me about his folks. The scar came from a bayonet. He didn’t tell me any details, though.“
”Did you ask?“
”Once, yeah. Late one night on the team bus, on the way back from an away game. He didn’t want to talk about it, though.“
”Some people think Marko’s dangerous, Wade. Capable of serious violence.“
Anders shrugs as though this is unlikely. ”I don’t think so. He hates the Serbs now. That’s who killed his folks. If you asked me would Marko kill a Serb, I’d say don’t get between them.“
”How did Marko feel about the Wilsons?“
Wade laughs. ”He liked them. Hell, they let him do whatever he wanted most of the time. Why wouldn’t he like them? Professor Wilson’s in another world half the time, anyway. Was, I mean.“
”Absentminded, you mean? Head in the clouds?“
”That, too, I guess. But I meant drunk.“
A new thought hits me. ”Paul Wilson didn’t do drugs, did he?“
Wade shrugs again. ”Never thought about it. But I wouldn’t reject the idea out of hand. He spent his whole life teaching college. He’s bound to have smoked some reefer, at least.“
”Hm. What did you think of Kate Townsend?“
Wade swallows hard, shakes his head, and looks at the floor. ”Jesus, Penn. You see a kid like that maybe once every ten years. Gifted on the field and a genius in the classroom. I’ve really never had one like her myself. Tell the truth, I can’t really believe she’s dead.“
”Do you have any idea who killed her?“
Shock blanks Anders’s face. ”Hell, no. Do you?“
”No.“
”I mean, people are saying Dr. Elliott did it. But I don’t really hold with that.“
”Why not?“
”Drew’s not the type. I mean, I’m sure he was in love with her. Hell, you can’t help but love a girl like that. But he wouldn’t have killed her. I mean, not unless he’s got a different side, you know? A jealous side. Some guys are like that. Seem like great guys on the outside, but at home they’re real control freaks. Paranoid, you know?“
”Yeah.“
”You’re his friend, right? Is Drew like that?“
”No.“
”I didn’t think so. You can tell from how a guy deals with his kids. Drew never pressures his son in football practices. He comes out to watch, you know, but he never gets onto Timmy, not even when he makes a mistake. Which surprised me, since Drew played college ball and all. Look, man, what do I know? I’m just a coach.“
”You’ve made some good points, Wade. What do you think about Drew having sex with Kate?“
Anders blinks as though confused. ”What do you mean?“
”Do you condemn him for it?“
Wade looks at his office door, which I realize is open about a half inch. He closes it with his foot. ”You want the party line or the real answer?“
”You know what I want.“
His eyes shine as he shakes his head. ”Penn, these girls…they’re not the girls we went to school with, okay? There’s a group of girls here who have a club called the Bald Eagles. Know why?“
”Do I want to know?“
”They all shave their pussies.“
”Is that a big deal?“
Wade raises his eyebrows. ”They’re in the eighth grade.“
”Jesus.“ Even in our frankest discussions, Mia and I have not gotten to this level of detail.
”And the juniors and seniors? Man, they put it right in your face. Day in and day out. Sex is no big deal to them. I’ll be honest with you, Penn, the hardest thing I’ve ever done is said no to the girls who’ve come on to me in this office. I’ve had ‘em start changing clothes right in front of me, like they forgot I was here, then ask if I want to see
