picking on Candace. And the margarita felt like liquid bravery. “What makes you think I care?” she asked. “You invited me to dinner, Ruth.
Not the other way around.” I shrugged. “I figured that Beta Harcher was the proposed topic.” She laid her fork down, as though in surrender. Her eyes, dark with smoke, met mine and for the first time I felt a little afraid of her. She’d poured the margarita for me and now I wondered if it didn’t have the slightest lethally chemical taste. “ Touche. And I’m sorry I picked on your”-her mind searched for an appropriate term for Candace-“little friend.” “So what about Beta?”
I asked. “Who killed her?” “I don’t know. Who do you think did it?”
Ruth leaned forward. “Not you. I’m not saying that out of any sort of fear toward you.” “Gee, thanks. That’ll keep me from cutting your throat later.” Unexpectedly, she broke into raucous laughter. Other tables glanced our way, saw the empty pitcher, and lost interest. I couldn’t keep from smiling at her despite feeling that the joke just wasn’t funny. She poked my arm with short painted fingernails. “I like you, Jordy. You’re on the edge.” “Thanks. I think.” “I mean it, Jordy.
You’re so different from most people in Mirabeau. God, the entire town’s a bore.” I stiffened, the margarita glass halfway to my lips.
“You don’t like Mirabeau?” She made a dismissive noise. “I suppose there are worst places. But don’t you find it unbearable after the big city?” I finished the sip of margarita I’d started. Did I hate it here? Perhaps I had when I’d first come home; the shock of Mama’s illness, the tension between Sister and me, and the stress of taking over at the library hadn’t made Mirabeau seem congenial. But when I thought about it, Mirabeau was still home. You can take the boy out of the country, but not the country out of the boy. Coming home had been a rediscovery of sorts; that people waved and spoke to you on the street, even if they didn’t know you (and they weren’t begging or raving), that neighbors all knew each other, that you could sleep with a window open on a lovely spring night without fear. So what if we didn’t have a sushi bar? I’d just as soon use raw fish for bait down on the Colorado. I smiled thinly. “No, I like it here.” She flicked her tongue across her smile. “Maybe I am in trouble. Didn’t mean to bash sweet ol’ Mirabeau.” “Let’s get back to Beta. I didn’t mean to debate Mirabeau’s merits.” She lowered her eyes, staring at her empty glass. “Beta. Y’know, I’ve seen plenty of people die in my line of work. You avoid sympathy because you just can’t spend the energy. I’ve cried more over an unknown child that died in the emergency room than I ever will over Beta Harcher.” She shrugged, a slow uncoiling movement. “You didn’t have a cordial past with her,” I said. She sipped at her margarita, rolling the crushed ice and salt in her mouth, and studied me over the glass. “No, I didn’t. We didn’t agree about the library.” “And even less about the hospital.” Ruth’s nerves didn’t move, much less jump. She smiled. “So you know about that little stink she made.” “I have a distinct feeling that if she’d been poisoned last night, you’d be spending quality time with Junebug Moncrief right now.” “That whole incident was utterly ridiculous.
Crazy woman that she was, I almost felt sorry for her. Until she died.” “One item confuses me no end,” I said. “Why she didn’t raise this issue at some point in the censorship fight at the library? With you on my side and her against us, she would have vented full steam.
She sure in hell didn’t spare me, Eula Mae, or Matt Blalock.” I wasn’t certain that breath was still escaping from her lips. Her dark eyes traveled my face, as though looking for a crack. I blinked. I waited.
Finally she shrugged as if the question were unimportant. “It didn’t happen. I never, ever tried to poison her or harm her in any way. She made it up because she hated my guts.” “How did the hospital keep her from making- uh- unfounded accusations?” She straightened. “They know me there, and they knew her story was bullshit. The hospital told her they’d sue her for slander, libel, whatever if she claimed that I tried to hurt her. They meant it and she saw that. So she shut up.” “I should have tried that approach with her at the library. Got me an attorney.” Considering that the only attorney I knew was my uncle Bid, that was a wholly unappetizing prospect. Ruth laughed again. “We could have kept a whole firm litigating against her.” “So why did she make that charge against you, Ruth, if it was foundless? I’m curious as to her motive.” “What possessed that woman-no pun intended-anyhow, Jordy?
You know how judgmental and demanding she was. She’d get into her head that you were a sinner and that she was going to get you good-before God had a chance.” Ruth’s eyes held mine for a long moment. “Crazy people don’t need motives.” “So she just made up that story about you trying to kill her? For no good reason?” “That’s right. Like I said, she was nuts.” “Odd. I always thought she knew exactly what she was doing.” “If she did it, it was because she didn’t like me. Maybe she was planning her censorship campaign then and knowing I’d side against her, she decided to smear me off the board. Look, Jordy,”-her voice imparted frustration-“she redefined pathetic, okay?” “I won’t argue with you on that point.” “You might want to save your arguments for the police.” Ruth frowned. “You said you didn’t know who killed her.
The police and that bumpkin D.A. asked me about you and Miss Harcher.
Like how bad did it get between the two of you at the board meetings.
They wanted to know if you threatened her at the meetings. Someone told Billy Ray that you said you could’ve killed Beta.” I kept from groaning. Who had been standing there after Ruth hustled Beta out?
Eula Mae, Tamma, and almost six other library regulars. I wished I’d bitten off my intemperate tongue. “Billy Ray asked me to confirm that when I told him I saw the fight between you and Beta, but I told him I hadn’t heard you say any such thing.” “Thanks. Billy Ray’s hot on my trail.” Ruth shook her head. “I already told you I don’t think you did it. Whoever killed that woman had to hate her from the get-go. It couldn’t have been a crime of passion; no one loved her.” “Passion can mean hate, too. And Matt sure seems to have hated her.” Ruth Wills drew back from the table, resting against the booth. She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe Matt could murder anyone.” It was an unexpected defense. “You should have seen him today. He hated her guts. I didn’t like her; neither did you or Eula Mae. I think she irritated Bob Don and the Hufnagels more than they’d admit. But Matt despised her.” She shook her head again. “I don’t know Matt very well, but he served his country and I don’t think he’d kill Beta.” “Then who?” She leaned forward. “It obviously had to be someone she knew.
She wouldn’t have been in the library with a stranger. She didn’t have a key.” “Tamma Hufnagel says Beta swiped Adam’s key,” I interjected.
Ruth snorted. “Whatever. Regardless of who had the key, she wouldn’t have been there, late at night, with someone she didn’t know. So why was she at the library?” “I don’t know.” “She was meeting someone there. Someone she couldn’t meet elsewhere because they needed privacy. If she had to meet with someone on the library board, why not at the deserted library?” She tapped fingertips on the table. “She could have met me at my place-I live alone. Same with Eula Mae. But not so with Matt, Bob Don, Janice Schneider, Reverend Hufnagel, or you. You all have keys and you all have families in your homes. Now I don’t think that you or Matt did it. Adam Hufnagel’s the biggest stuffed shirt I can imagine, but he is a preacher and I don’t think he’s a killer. Janice Schneider-pardon me, I know she’s kin to you-is a wimp. That just leaves Bob Don.” I opened my mouth and shut it again. I hadn’t given much thought to why Beta was at the library; I’d assumed she’d wanted to get rid of books she’d objected to. “So why would Bob Don want to kill her?” I asked. Ruth smirked. “I would pick him, when you start narrowing down the options.” “Why Bob Don?” I thought of Bob Don’s heartiness toward me, his seeming willingness to help me. And Tamma’s story of his arrival at Beta’s as she left, looking angry. “Something that happened last Saturday. I’ve been looking at buying a pickup truck and Bob Don’d told me he’d give me a good price. I stopped by the dealership late Saturday after I got off my shift at the hospital. He’d told me he’d deal with me direct So I went back to his office.” Ruth fidgeted for a minute. “Beta was there.
I heard her voice even before I was at the door. She was screaming at him, telling him he was nothing but a lousy lying sinner. I opened the door-I actually thought something violent was going on. Beta and Bob Don were in there, all right And Bob Don looked like I’d just kept him from committing murder. His face was all bloated and red, he was so mad. Beta had spit on her chin and she was waving that damned old Bible of hers in his face. The tension, the hatred in that room.” She shivered. All news to me. “My God! What happened?” I asked. She drained the last of her margarita. “I muttered something about how they were yelling loud enough to raise the dead. I thought Bob Don was going to have a stroke. He’s got one of those pulsy veins in his forehead that jitter when he’s mad. Beta gave me one of those triumphant little sneers. She told Bob Don to remember what she said, ‘or you know who’ll pay. You don’t want ’em hurt, do you?’ I can’t forget the words, because she said them with such contempt. She threatened him, with me right there. I was speechless. She called me a name-I believe hussy was her new vocabulary word- then she pushed past me and left.” “I saw Bob Don today. Junebug and Billy Ray paid him a visit.” Ruth nodded. “They saw me at the hospital this morning. I told them where I’d been last night. That was their first question, and then I told them about Bob Don and Beta.” “So where were you last night?” She didn’t
