I glanced over at Junebug, who nodded toward the back porch. The assemblage of mourners discovered several reasons to either leave or retire to the kitchen, where Clo had prepared coffee. I followed my old Mend out to the back porch, a miserable look on my face.
The rain had returned, playing an arpeggio of pitters on the roof. The wide, emptying branches of the live oaks swayed in the mounting coldness that promised a hard winter, and the leaves from the trees had begun their wet descent to the ground. The sky was leaden with clouds that looted like ashy bolls of cotton. I suppose if thunder had ominously rumbled, it would have only completed the scene.
“Where was she? Is she okay?” I asked Junebug.
“She’s fine. I found her down on Mears Creek, where it divides off the river. She was just sitting in her car.”
“Where the hell had she been?”
“She says she needed time alone.” His lips thinned.
“Who gave her that shiner?”
“She claims she stumbled against a tree while taking a walk, but I don’t believe her.”
“Oh, God. This isn’t happening.” I turned to him with pleading eyes. “Junebug, you have to get to the bottom of this. Two of-two people we’ve known forever get murdered and my sister goes missing and turns up with a battered face. You got to do something!”
“I am, Jordy. I’m taking myself off this case.”
“Why?” I felt like hollering my throat raw, but I kept my voice under steely control. “We need you, Junebug.”
“I can’t, Jordy, I got to turn it over to my deputy. I can’t investigate when Arlene’s… involved. It’s a conflict of interest.”
“Do you think she did this? You know she couldn’t have!” Hypocrite, my conscience piped up in my head. Why don’t you go get him that scrap? I’m waiting.
“Of course she didn’t do it,” Junebug said. He stared off into the rain, coming down harder, driving the remaining leaves down to sodden grass. “I don’t believe for an instant that she killed Trey.” He heaved a long sigh. “When I told her he was dead, it was as if all the life went out of her. I hadn’t expected that, not after what happened between them.” He turned back to me, his face miserable. “She still loves him, Jordy. I could see it in her face.”
“You’re dreaming. You didn’t see the cold hate in her eyes last night. You didn’t see how she hit him.” I nearly bit my tongue off; I’d spoken recklessly, too stunned by recent events for much coherency. Perhaps I could write down the list of reasons Sister had to kill Trey? It would surely make questioning her more convenient for all concerned.
“What’s the old saying? It’s a fine line between love and hate?” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Once it had set in, I wasn’t foolin’ her, she screamed like a wounded wildcat. She broke into tears and just kept saying no. Cut me to the bone.” He shook his head. “I don’t think Arlene loves me. I think, even after all these years, all her yellin all her warnings to Trey to stay away, that she loved him still. Arlene’s not the type to hate, you know.”
“She’s not happy with me right now, is she?” I asked, half to myself.
He doffed his Stetson, tossed it on the chair, and ran a callused hand through his damp brown hair. “Sorry about that. Of course she asked if you and Mark knew. I had to tell her about y’all finding him. She got a lot quieter then.”
“She’ll get over being upset at me,” I said. “I hope.” Junebug didn’t look too concerned about my placement on Sister’s Top 40 chart.
Thunder rumbled above me. He kept watching the curtain of rain.
I chose my words carefully. “Of course, the most compelling reason to know that my sister had nothing to do with Trey’s death is that ‘two down’ that was on the wall. Sister might have had reason to kill Trey, but she sure didn’t have reason to kill anyone else.” I watched Junebug’s broad back tense. “There’s no other explanation, Junebug. The same person got rid of both him and Clevey. So there’s no reason to suspect my sister.”
“I know tonight’s going to be rough for you, Jordy, but I’d like you and the other boys to come over to my house.”
“I assume by the other boys you mean Davis and Ed.”
He nodded. “Because of the papers about Rennie Clifton we found in Clevey’s house. The papers mention the six boys specifically. Now two are dead. The remaining four of us need to have a little chat.”
“But you said you were taking yourself off the case-”
“Off Trey’s case. I’m still investigating Clevey’s murder. Be there at eight o’clock. And tell Arlene I’ll call her later.” He spun on his heel and left, the murmur of feminine voices the only sound as he went back into the house.
I felt cold, as though Rennie Clifton’s long-dead hand had risen from the ground and closed around my ankle. Did 2 DOWN signal a finale to bloodshed? Or was it the first note in an even more gruesome coda?
“Jordy?”
I turned. Candace. I should have run into her arms. Instead I froze.
“Baby, for God’s sake!” She hurled herself at me, nearly crushing me in her embrace. And I’m a foot taller than she is. I held her, running my hands up the firmness of her back. Her lake-blue eyes, wide with shock, looked up into mine.
“I’m so sorry, Jordy, so sorry.” She hugged me again, whispering into my chest.
“What about?” I stroked her hair, but I didn’t feel the usual ache of tenderness when she was in my arms. It was almost as though I wasn’t truly me and she wasn’t truly her. The entire day had taken on a quality of unreality.
“I’m sorry because Trey is dead, dummy! What’s wrong with you?” She leaned back, staring at me as though I’d lost my mind.
I didn’t respond. Those clear blue eyes bored into me like a beacon cutting a swath across darkness. I suddenly felt ill at ease in her arms.
“How are Mark and Arlene?” she asked.
“Sister’s terribly upset. Mark freaked out completely. Now he’s acting like nothing happened.” I stepped back from her.
She regarded me with a critical gaze. “And how about you?”
“Fine,” I mumbled. “I mean, granted, it was horrible to see him the like that, but I’ll be just fine.”
One of her hands reached out for mine. She ran a fingertip along my unshaven jawline. “C’mon, babe. He was your best friend, at least when you were growing up.”
“Who told you that?”
She blinked. “Well, good Lord. Everyone says how close y’all were.”
“That was years ago! What does it matter?” I pulled my hand free and walked to the end of the porch. The little garden plot Mama used to plant every spring was barren and muddy. Dank elongations of water lay in the shallow hills between empty rows. I watched drops strike the surface, their tiny impacts spreading a circle of water until the next bead of rain fell.
“Why are you being so pissy to me, Jordan?” she asked my back.
“I’m sorry.” I turned to her, holding my palms out, fingers spread. “You don’t understand, Candace. There’s no point in me being upset. You said Trey was my friend. Well, the emphasis is on the past tense. He was an unforgivable asshole.”
She gave me her patented Doubting Candace look and crossed her slender arms. “I see. And since he was such an asshole, you’re not at all affected that he practically died at your feet?”
I shook my head in frustration. “I feel terrible that Mark saw that. I’ll never forgive myself for taking him over to that house. But at least-at least Trey told Mark that he loved him.” I stared out again at the rain. “I don’t know, Candace. Maybe Mark didn’t need to hear that. Maybe it would have been better if Trey had just died and he wasn’t anything more than a memory to Mark. Mark shouldn’t have seen that blood, that death. He’s just a kid. If I hadn’t-”
“That’s not your fault. So we should all only be concerned about Mark? You’re perfectly fine? Entirely unscathed by losing two old friends in two days?” Her tone was arch, one I recognized from when a fight was brewing between us.
