"What?"
Wendy was reluctant, but she said, "The next morning, I heard from Cat, who heard from a deputy, that Erica had been killed down in that pond, and that people were waiting for the state cops to come. I freaked out. I mean, I really freaked. I got in my car and I drove out there, and parked up in one of those driveways. I could see where somebody had walked back through those weeds so I went through and looked out on the lake and saw the boats… about a billion mosquitoes… so I watched them for a minute and then I snuck back to my car and took off. I was really scared."
Virgil rubbed his face with his hands. "Ah, man. What kind of shoes were you wearing?"
"Mephistos. Zoe told me that night that you were looking for Mephistos. I didn't want to throw them away, because they cost more than any shoes I ever had, so I hid them at the Schoolhouse in my equipment box."
"You told me I could talk about it," Zoe said to Virgil.
"Yes, I did," Virgil said.
"One more thing," Zoe said. She glanced at Wendy, then said, "The band was working on a song on Tuesday afternoon… Slibe came looking for Wendy. McDill was there. Wendy got Slibe to order some pizzas, and they all sat around and ate them."
"Yeah."
"And Erica talked about the eagles, and about going down to the pond," Wendy said, finishing for Zoe.
"Oh, boy." They all sat around and Virgil thought he might've taken a toke or two himself, if it'd been offered. He said, finally, "You thought it was his truck. But you're not sure."
"I… you know how you see a truck, and they're all the same, but you know your friend's truck, the way he drives it, something about it? I thought it was Dad's. I was driving up to the road, and I thought, What's he doing here?"
ANOTHER SPACE, and Virgil said, "All right, Wendy. Constance Lifry was killed, Erica was killed, Jud Windrow's disappeared, and I think he's probably dead. All those seem to be connected to the band. But what about Washington?"
"I have no idea," Wendy said.
"Did the Deuce know Washington?"
"Not as far as I know. He doesn't really eat candy."
"How about your father?" Virgil asked.
"Same thing, I guess. I mean, she isn't friends with any of us."
"So why… I mean, if the Deuce is nuts, maybe he'd shoot Washington because he liked doing it. Because it was like hunting. He got a taste for it. But I don't see your old man like that. He seems too… tight."
"I don't know. I just don't know," she said. "It doesn't make any sense."
ZOE ASKED WENDY, "If it was your father, if he killed all those people, why'd he do it? To keep you close?"
Wendy nodded. "The only people my dad ever loved was my mom and me. And the Deuce, I guess. He's told me that a hundred times. When she left, it almost killed him. He says I act just like her."
"Your father never…?" Virgil let the sentence fragment hang out there, instead of asking, "sexually molested you?"
Wendy took just a second to catch on, and then said, "Oh, no. No, no. Nothing like that."
"Never?"
"No. There was a time when I was thirteen, or twelve, I got kind of a bad feeling about him, like he was watching me, so I was kind of careful around him for a while. But nothing ever happened. Ever."
"What about with the Deuce?"
She smiled ruefully. "He liked to spy on me. You know, when I was coming out of the bathroom, peeking in my window and stuff. I didn't mind so much-he never did anything, either. He's really shy."
"What's your dad's relationship to the Deuce? He's seems to be pointing us at him."
She shook her head. "I don't know. He used to spank us both, because he believed in discipline. But Mom would jump in… After she was gone, he beat up the Deuce pretty bad, a couple of times. That stopped a few years ago, when the Deuce started fighting back. It looked like maybe… like maybe Dad was taking on more than he could handle."
THEY SAT around for a minute, then Virgil asked, "Has your father ever talked to you about not leaving?"
She nodded. "Oh, yeah. He came from this really poor family-I mean, really poor. He had this brother who died young, supposedly of a heart problem, but Dad told me once that he thought it was because he didn't have enough to eat when he was a boy. There were times when they went hungry. They had a welfare program back then, where the government would give people peanut butter and lard and that kind of stuff. Leftover stuff, when the farmers grew too much. He said there were months when they ate peanut butter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He can't even stand the smell of it anymore."
She trailed off, and Virgil, trying to keep her rolling, said, "I can understand that."
She nodded. "Anyway, after high school he was a shovel man for another septic tank construction company, then he went in the army and learned heavy equipment. He was in for six years, saved every dime he could, and when he got out, he put a down payment on a Bobcat and then… he worked and worked, and he met Mom and got married, and Mom worked and worked, all the time, and they finally got the business going. He doesn't think the Deuce can handle it; he wants me to. He thinks if I go running off to Nashville or somewhere, the business will…"
She shrugged.
"Go down the toilet," Zoe said.
"Not funny," Wendy snapped. To Virgiclass="underline" "But I don't want to do it. I don't want to spend my life pushing some goddamned Bobcat around, or doing the office work for a bunch of rednecks."
"SO, why're you telling me this?" Virgil asked.
" ' Cause if Dad did it, they should stop him," Wendy said. "And the Deuce… the Deuce can't help the way he is. Dad made him that way. After Mom ran off with Hector, it was like I was the mom, and I had to take care of the Deuce. Stand between him and Dad, as much as I could."
"The Deuce is what? Four or five years younger than you?"
"Seven," Wendy said. "You know, I think they'd kill him in prison. I think being in prison, in a cage, might kill him, all by itself. But he seems to attract attention… from people who like to make fun of him. If he went to prison, he'd die there, or get killed there. And it's not right, if he didn't do it."
"No, it isn't," Virgil said.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. If Slibe did it, and the Deuce was innocent, they had major problems. Once the police arrested somebody for a crime, it became almost impossible to convict somebody else, without a perfect, watertight case. Given the standard for a conviction-guilty beyond a reasonable doubt-a defense attorney would beat them to death with a prior arrest: "If you're so sure X is guilty, why'd you arrest Y two days before?"
They might be able to slide around that, since the two people involved were closely related, so the same evidence could point at either of them, but it'd be tough; especially if the only thing that pointed at Slibe was a "maybe" sighting.
Although he thought she was right about the truck…
He opened his eyes and asked Wendy, "What would you say if you hit your dad with the accusation that he was there, with his truck, and he said, 'No, I wasn't. I was over at Joe Blow's house'?"
"Well, then… I guess I'd believe it," Wendy said. "Especially if Joe Blow backed him up. I'm not absolutely sure it was Dad's truck. I just thought so. At the time."
"Man. That's really soft," Virgil said. He leaned forward. "What would you think of the idea of wearing a wire… a microphone… and accusing him of killing Erica? Tell him about seeing the truck, see what he says? We could be right there, outside, if he tried anything."
"Ohhh, God." She brushed her fingers through her hair. "That would really be… traitorous, wouldn't it? He'd never forgive me, even if he's innocent. I mean, when Mom turned traitor, he never got over it. He did nothing but work, and come home and do the garden, and clean the house, and feed us kids. All the stuff that he used to do, plus all the stuff that Mom used to do, and then go to bed and get up and do it all over again."
"I can't think of what else to do but the wire," Virgil said. "Especially if that blood comes back as belonging to Jud Windrow. That points right at the Deuce. And I gotta tell you, honey, a singing career is looking pretty distant, if it turns out that your old man kills everybody who tries to help you along."