Great. My mind fumbled for an answer.
“Well, I saw how hateful she was to several of you at the dinner when she died-” I began, but then an unexpected ally leaped to my defense.
“I asked Jordan to go into Lolly's room,” Gretchen said, standing on shaky feet, her eyes crimson rings in her face.
“Well, it speaks,” Philip muttered. “Who uncorked the bottle?” Real venom stained his voice.
“Philip, shut up and sit down,” Mutt ordered. Some of the regular steel was back in his tone. Philip attempted a brief scowl but sank onto the ottoman by Uncle Jake. I glanced at Bob Don, who glowered at Philip with undisguised loathing.
“I didn't know then Lolly had been sending those hateful scribblings to Jordan. But after she died, I was so upset, and I wanted a keepsake of Lolly's. I asked Jordan to fetch it for me. It was then that he found the other card that Lolly intended to send him.” Gretchen smiled winningly at Lieutenant Mendez. I had practically forgotten he was in the room. “He didn't tell me about it until this afternoon.”
“What keepsake did you want?” Mutt asked. “I don't like the idea of someone pawing through my poor dead sister's belongings…”
Gretchen raised her hands in mock supplication. “I know, Mutt, I know it's tacky of me. But Lolly told me once she'd kept the wedding photos of my first husband Paul and me, and I wanted them back. I asked Jordan to look for them.”
“Why didn't you fetch the photos yourself?” This, surprisingly, from Deborah. She looked scared to death, her hands folded tightly against her chest, as though ready to shiver in the July heat.
“Probably too fucking drunk to do it herself,” Philip said, and Bob Don launched himself off the couch. I hadn't known he could move quite so fast. For a big man he bolted like lightning. He seized Philip's already much-handled shirt in his hands and shoved his cousin over the ottoman. Philip went down like a fallen oak, splaying out at Uncle Jake's feet and cane.
“Mr. Goertz!” Lieutenant Mendez shouted, pulling Bob Don back. I reached for Bob Don's arm, but he flinched violently away from my touch. I slowly lowered my hand, feeling Aunt Sass's eyes mock me.
“You did it, you spiked her drink. Goddamn scheming punk!” Bob Don pointed down at Philip, who was trying ineffectually to scramble to his feet. Finally Tom assisted him.
“Great,” Philip snapped. “Now you're blaming me for Gretchen's binges.” He glared at the assemblage. “She's hit the sauce again. Dead drunk this afternoon, and Bob Don and Jordan and Sass and Candace would just as soon we all not know.”
“My soda was spiked.” Gretchen leaned against Sass and Sass put a protective arm around her. “I didn't intend to drink.”
“Aunt Gretchen, you should probably avoid confrontation right now. Let's you and I go discuss your relapse,” Aubrey offered, but no one paid him any heed.
“Crooning the same old tired song of the boozer, Aunt Gretchen,” Philip taunted, undaunted by Bob Don's anger.
“Philip. Use your brain,” Gretchen said, her tone eerily calm. “If Lolly was poisoned, someone slipped it into her food or drink. Someone basically tried to poison me the same way. Except with alcohol.”
Silence cocooned the room as the family weighed the implication. I wanted to sink down onto the couch-my head throbbed with tension-but my feet felt coated in concrete.
Gretchen turned to Mendez, a half smile lighting her face. Her lips trembled. “We're not a very nice family, Lieutenant, full of shiftless bums, mean old men, crazy women, and my first husband was a murderer. So where you gonna start?”
16
We'd each been banished to our rooms as Lieutenant Mendez and Judge Yarbrough continued their investigation and interviews. I could only imagine what game plan their minds had concocted after hearing such poisonous talk. Accusations, counteraccusations, slander, grief, hatred-we all needed to be flown to the nearest tabloid talk show and unleashed on the audience. They wouldn't know what the hell hit them. Or perhaps we could become sponsors for a lozenge company as we screamed our throats raw at each other.
At least Mendez had seen fit to begin his interrogations with Philip, everyone's most likely suspect. I stood against the window, watching the sun begin its decline toward the sea. Clouds surged above the ocean, as dark and foreboding as the fear in my heart. It was as if the weather reflected our moods. The light no longer dappled the waves; the air smelled sour with the rank odors of the sea. The sky, so unsullied earlier, had shrouded itself with heavy black thun-derheads. Rumbles, growing closer, made the wood beneath my feet shiver. If you don't like the weather in Texas- especially on the coast-wait five minutes, because it's sure to change. The Gulf is a cauldron for sudden, harsh storms. I watched as a flurry of boats hurried toward Port Lavaca and Port O'Connor.
The smudge that marked land's end, across Matagorda Bay, beckoned. I wanted to leave and I could not. Yarbrough had declared a quarantine on travel and none of us were daring to break it. Her words had made it clear that while no one was getting their Miranda rights read, no one was above suspicion. And what would flight suggest aside from guilt? Anyone who knew truth in this sordid matter would do well to come forward and not hide it. I wondered if a family as sundered as this one seemed could still cloak each other. The Goertz family huddled together against truth like it was a cold, driving rain.
I felt a sharp tang of fear for Bob Don. He wasn't going to trust me with his secrets; he wasn't going to let me help him.
A knock sounded at my door, softly. “Come in,” I called.
Gretchen entered, shutting the door firmly behind her. “I wanted to see if you're okay,” she said.
“You surprised me. Lying like you did to protect me.”
She didn't answer at first. She sat on the corner of my bed, curling her legs beneath her like a cat. “You and I have to stick together, Jordan. We're the outsiders here.”
“Outsiders?”
She smiled a half smile of shaky resolve. “We're Goertzes, all right, but we're not quite up to snuff. Didn't you hear how hard Lolly was on everyone at dinner? And those are the real family. How do you think you and I ranked in her eyes-the family drunk and the unexpected illegitimate child?” She ran a hand through her permed, graying hair. “We're distant blood-not quite part of the family, but still there.”
“When Lolly was ragging on Aubrey about his book- about the various characters he could discuss-she said the family slut, and she looked right at you.” I sat down next to her on the soft quilt. “Why is that?”
“Jordan, I-” she started, then stopped. “I've caused a lot of grief to this family. I'm sure most of them wished I'd never come along.”
“I'm sure that's not true,” I offered. “Deborah and Sass obviously care about you.”
“Do they? I marry a Goertz and leave him for his brother. I drove a wedge between two men who should have been the closest of friends but who became the most bitter of enemies. I destroyed Paul's life, and Lolly could never forgive me for it. She was always hateful toward me. She told me once it was fitting I was a drunk. I deserved it.”
“You can't feel guilty about leaving Paul. You had to do what was right for you.” I touched her shoulder, and she didn't flinch away. “No one can begrudge you your happiness.”
“Happiness? I've given little joy to myself or to anyone else.” She massaged her forehead, a tired expression furrowing her brow. “Do you know what guilt is, Jordy? Real guilt, the kind that never lets you sleep or eat or think for a long stretch of time. It hovers near your shoulder, like a little devil whispering in your ear.”
I attempted comfort. “You said you didn't give happiness to people. But you made me happy today. When you stuck up for me.”
Gretchen Goeitz looked hard into my eyes. All the old discord between us seemed to have happened a century ago as we sat together on the bed listening to the wind crescendo around us and the first patters of hard rain slammed against the windows.