and she still slept in it.
“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe anyone thinks you’re a killer.” “I have you on my side, though. And Candace.” Sister squeezed my hand. It was the first legitimate sign of affection she’d shown me in weeks. I think we were both just too tired to bother most of the time, too caught up in feeling sorry for ourselves, too worn down from dealing with Mama, too frustrated at our own powerlessness in the face of her disease. We’d been close once. I wanted to be close to her again. I offered to bring her some coffee in bed and she giggled. “You?” she asked. I drew myself up to my full height “I too can be sensitive and caring. We just got a book about it at the library.” I brought her milky coffee, the way she liked it. She sipped it as daintily as an English lady being gently roused in the morning by a roomful of servants. I told her about my dinner with Ruth and what I’d found out yesterday. She listened for once, and did not interrupt me. A rarity for my big sister. When I was done, Sister finished her coffee before she spoke. “Well, I can fill in one gap.
Bob Don did used to be friends with Mama and Daddy.” “When?” “Oh, when I was real little. Before you were born. He came over quite a bit. I remember he loved to toss me up in the air and catch me. I’d squeal everybody deaf. And he and Mama and Daddy played cards some evenings, I remember that. But he and Mama and Daddy had some big falling out. I think it was over him marrying that nasty Gretchen. I don’t think Mama and Daddy liked being around her. She’s a real bitch.” “Candace says that Bob Don returned a library book that’d had booze spilled on it.”
Sister huffed. “Then she’s also a real drunk bitch. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. Have you ever seen that woman, Jordy? Course she doesn’t get out like she used to. But I know a drunk when I see one. She must just be getting worse and worse. Poor Bob Don. Maybe he really does want to help, make up for the rift between him and Daddy and Mama.” “Maybe so,” I said thoughtfully. I offered to make Sister some breakfast, but she said she’d get her own. (She wasn’t willing to take a chance on my cooking.) So I got on with my work. There were people to see and stories to be checked out. I decided to strike close to home first.
The Bavary/Mirabeau phone book listed three families named Hart. I got lucky the second time around. The lady who answered had a daughter named Chelsea. “May I ask why you want to speak with her?” the woman asked. Her voice was nasal but polite. I fidgeted. “Actually, she’s dating my cousin, Hally Schneider. I thought she might assist me in planning a surprise party for him.” I couldn’t think of anything else and hoped that I wouldn’t actually have to plan a social function for a teenager to cover my tracks. The woman warmed. “Oh, yes, Hally and Chelsea did go out the other night. Such a handsome young man.” Her voice faltered. “I-I didn’t know that he was really interested in Chelsea.” “Oh, talks about her constantly,” I chirped. Well, he’d mentioned her once. That counted for something. Mrs. Hart directed me to LuAnne’s Backerei, a little German bakery in downtown Mirabeau. I thanked her and hung up. I could stop off and chat with Chelsea on my way to see Reverend Hufnagel, Bob Don Goertz, and Eula Mae. And when I got back, down-the-street neighbor Janice Schneider and I were going to have a little heart-to-heart as well.
9
The warm aroma of freshly baked kolaches enveloped me as I stepped into LuAnne’s Backerei. Kolaches are a Czech pastry, a warm, square roll with a fruit or sausage middle and topping. Every small town in east-central Texas boasts a kolache bakery, even some left over from the earliest Czech immigrants. Kolache and coffee together are the ultimate in comfort foods; the smell alone brought back memories of my grandmother Schneider’s kitchen, a tray of hot kolaches being set before Sister and me-with a gentle warning to let them cool so we wouldn’t burn our mouths. Today’s batch smelled of apple, peach, and heaven. I didn’t know LuAnne or any of the staff; there was one stout, matronly woman in the back on the phone and a trio of young girls brewing coffee, pulling fresh kolaches out of glass-fronted ovens, and ringing the cash register. If LuAnne’s had a morning rush I’d missed it. Two plump ladies in stretch polyester pantsuits sat by the door, laughing merrily over steaming cups of coffee. A circle of older men slumped by a table, watching the women chat. One man, a Dallas Cowboys cap perched on his head, held court, talking and smoking his cigarette. The other men munched on their kolaches, and it was hard to tell if they paid the slightest attention to him. They had probably heard whatever story he was telling a hundred times already. I approached the counter, bought two apple kolaches and a coffee, laced with milk and sugar. The girl who rang up my purchase smiled prettily.
I thought she was just Hally’s type. “Excuse me. Are you Chelsea Hart?” “No, she is.” The girl jerked her head toward the ovens. A girl I never would have pictured with Hally Schneider extracted a tray of steaming peach kolaches from the oven. She wasn’t pretty and I’m not being unkind. She just wasn’t Her face was bony to an extreme, gaunt and sallow. Her nose and chin were small, but sharply pointed, like a cartoon witch’s. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair, with a front tuft moussed to defy gravity. A short-sleeved blouse showed arms like rails. I moved down the counter and spoke to her, aware of the cashier’s eyes on me. “Excuse me?
Chelsea?” I said. Chelsea Hart gave me an apathetic glance and moved her chewing gum to the other side of her mouth. “Yeah? Can I help you?” she asked in a nasally drawl. “I’m Jordy Poteet. Hally Schneider’s cousin. Could I talk to you for a second?” I motioned toward a table. Chelsea blinked brown eyes at me. She glanced back at the heavy woman, who chirped into her phone, waving a lit cigarette for emphasis. She turned to me. “Sure.” I went to a corner table with my kolaches and coffee and Chelsea followed, dragging her feet along the ground. She sat across from me, propping up her bony face with bony fingers. “Kolache?” I offered her one of my apple pastries. She made a sour face, which didn’t help her cause any. “God, no. I get enough of them, believe me. What did you want?” I still hadn’t come up with a better excuse than planning some party for Hally. “Well, I understand you’re dating my cousin.” She laughed, and it was too hollow and empty to come from a teenage girl. “I don’t think one miserable evening counts as dating.” “Oh.” I was at a loss. “Sorry.
I’m planning a party for Hally, and I hoped you could help me. I thought-” “That I was Hally’s girlfriend?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Wrong. You must not know your cousin very well. I wouldn’t be the person to help you plan a party for Hally.” I took immediate refuge in the kolache, chewing it slowly to gather my thoughts.
Chelsea looked bored. I swallowed and said, “But you were out with him night before last, right?” “Yeah, I was. My evening with Prince Charming. Right.” She leaned forward and I could smell, mixing with the fragrance of coffee and fruit, a cheap, sticky perfume. “You tell your cousin something for me, okay? I don’t get asked out that often, and it don’t bother me. My own company suits me fine. But when a guy wants to spend time with me, I expect him to be with me, not off in his own world. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about being with me; it was just like he was killing time.” She leaned back. “I was surprised when Hally asked me out. He ain’t exactly the kind of boy that goes out with me. But I figured it out. I’m not stupid. He ain’t been dating anyone in school, so I figure here’s a chance for me, even though he asked me at the last minute. When we were together, he didn’t even know I was around. Just kept checking his watch all through our hamburgers. Told me the same football story three times and didn’t realize it. Even parked down by the river and he just wanted to talk.
If I want to talk I can stay home and listen to my sister.” Chelsea Hart smacked her gum emphatically. “He probably thought he was doing me some damn big favor, just breathing the same air as me. Well, I don’t need that. If he was out with me just to make some other girl jealous, he can kiss my ass.” “Can I ask you one question?” I interjected. Enough pretense. She shrugged bony shoulders. “When did he bring you home?” “Midnight. I got a curfew. I was ready to go home hours earlier, though, but he insisted on sitting and talking. Christ, what a bore he was. And if you’re having some stupid party for him, cross my name off the invite list. I don’t need him.” With that, she stormed back to the counter, leaving me with a kolache halfway to my mouth. Hell hath no fury and all that. I finished my coffee. Chelsea Hart might be as ugly as the day was long but damned if she wasn’t her own person. That would help her in life far better than comeliness ever would. Why was Hally spending time with a girl he had no apparent interest in? Where was his mind when he was on the date from hell? I had a sinking feeling that Hally was more concerned with providing himself with an alibi for Beta’s murder than with winning Chelsea’s heart. Why had my cousin gone to the trouble? What did he have to hide? I hurried out of the warm smell of the bakery, the dull throb of suspicion beginning in my heart. Matt Blalock was the last person I expected to see at the First Baptist Church, but there he was. Adam Hufnagel was helping him into his Taurus, storing the folding wheelchair and putting it in the back seat. I pulled up next to Matt.
The good reverend and Matt ignored me. By the time I was out of the car, Matt’s exhaust churned in the air
