There was a patio that faced a side street in Bavary, but it overflowed with customers who were slurping down drinks, stuffing nachos in their faces, and all talking simultaneously. I wanted quiet for my tete-a-tete with Ruth. I went in and was heartened that most patrons were taking advantage of the nice, clear night outdoors. The dining room wasn’t too crowded. A beautiful young woman with ebony eyes and luxurious black hair approached me with a smile. “I’m meeting someone-” I began but she didn’t let me finish. “You Mr. Poteet?”
“Yes.” “This way, please.” I followed her to a dim corner booth, where Ruth Wills sat as comfortable as a cat curled up on a pillow. Her brown hair swept up in a flattering way, and her eyes were dark in the pale light. She looked a little more urbane than the typical customer, in a black mock turtleneck and tailored gray slacks. A simple diamond pendant hung about her neck. I tried not to stare at the diamond, since it reposed on her shapely breasts. I didn’t want her to mistake why I was here. Her physical attractiveness hadn’t lured me here, I reminded myself-I wanted answers. But suddenly I found myself swallowing when a simple hello would have done nicely. “Jordy,” she said, offering me her hand. I took it, wondering for a moment if kissing it was out of the question. Her customary attire was a baggy sweatshirt and jeans; she looked lovely that way, but now she was positively gorgeous. And had she changed her voice? She spoke as smoothly as the curve of her hip. “Ruth. Nice to see you.” You could tell I was making my small talk extra-suave and elegant. I coughed for refuge and sat. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a pitcher of margaritas,” she murmured. “I hope you don’t mind.” “That’s fine.” I tried to get seated comfortably without making the vinyl squeak. “I wanted us to get together socially. I’m sorry that I waited until such sad circumstances.” She placed a hand near her pendant, as though taking a pledge. “Granted that Miss Harcher was not the most beloved person in town, but as a nurse I find it hard to wish anyone ill.”
This girl couldn’t have poisoned a rabid rat, I thought, then pulled on the mental reins. Keep actions related to mind, I told myself. I’m a weak man in some regards and Ruth sapped my strength. “Let’s not talk about that right now.” I made my voice purr as best I could. “How about an appetizer?” We made it through the meal without mentioning any bodies I’d recently discovered. The conversation stayed safely within limits: the hopes for next season’s Mirabeau Bees high-school football team, Ruth’s life in the coastal city of Corpus Christi before she’d come to Mirabeau, my life in Boston amidst all those Yankees. It was a nice dinner: quesadillas stuffed with jalapenos and cheese, chicken flautas for her, beef enchiladas smothered in cheese and chili con carne for me, Spanish rice and refried beans for both, and margaritas served in blue-rimmed glasses that could have doubled as goldfish bowls. I finished one, feeling tip top, and hardly noticed when Ruth poured me another. Beta didn’t rear up from the grave until we were filling our powdered, sugary sopapillas with honey. “It must have been”-Ruth finished loading the hollow pastry with honey-“horrendous, finding her body. Terrible shock for you and poor, dear Candace.” “More for me, I guess. Candace was a rock.” “Yes, I would think so,” Ruth bit into the bottom of her sopapilla, pulled it away from her mouth, and let the honey drip onto her tongue. And yes, I watched. It was downright fascinating. She swallowed the honey, then sipped at her margarita. “Candace seems to be quite strong where you’re concerned.” I felt a need to explain. “Candace is my friend and my assistant. We have a professional relationship.” “Really? I think if you were a library book she’d have you checked out constantly.” I smiled thinly. “Let’s not talk about Candace.” She gave a quick cut of her hand over her glass. “Fine. It’s a dull subject anyway.” I didn’t let that pass. “You brought her up. Why do you care if she’s interested in me?” I normally wasn’t so forward, but I didn’t like her 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?