“Nothing much,” he responded affably. “Nice of you to pay your respects.”
“Not according to the mom from hell.” Her voice had a sulky false confidence he was all too used to hearing.
“She’s suffered, too.”
“It’s not my fault he’s dead,” Marianne said petulantly.
“Seeing the world through her kind of pain hardly makes you clear-sighted.”
She frowned and stared at him. “You a preacher?”
He laughed softly. “Cop. I’m looking into his death.”
She took a half step back, bumping into a headstone. “I should’ve known,” she said angrily.
Gunther kept his voice quiet and comforting. “Should’ve known what? That we’d investigate? Don’t you want to know who killed him?”
She looked troubled. “He was killed, then? It wasn’t an accident?”
“Until we hear otherwise, we’re assuming it wasn’t. That’s why we’re finding out as much about Bobby as possible.”
Marianne’s expression soured. “Bet you got an earful about me.”
Joe nodded. “That must be hard, knowing that.”
She flared up again. “They can all get fucked. What I do is my business. I don’t care what they say.”
He smiled. “I can see that.”
Her face flushed. “Up yours,” she spat, and tried to walk away.
He took a risk and caught her arm, hoping it wouldn’t cause an uproar. He got lucky. As soon as he stopped her, she seemed to deflate and just stood there, staring at the ground, breathing fast.
“I’m sorry, Marianne. I’m sorry that he died, and I’m sorry that Marie can’t see what he meant to you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. “You don’t get it. I dumped him. I thought he was a pain in the ass-a moony-eyed, shit-on-his-shoes, lovesick pain in the ass.”
Joe thought back to Rick Frantz, who, days before being shot in mid-drug deal, had been seen kissing this girl in a parked car. “And who may have been the most decent boyfriend you ever had,” he suggested.
Her eyes wandered to about halfway down the buttons of his coat. “Yeah… Well, maybe. Turned out decent and boring were kind of the same.”
“Still, he didn’t deserve this.”
She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands, smearing her makeup and making herself look even younger than she was. “He wasn’t my type, but he had his moments.”
“Can you tell me a bit about him?” Joe asked.
She gave him a questioning look. “Tell you about him? That’s what I meant. There wasn’t anything to tell. All he wanted was to hold hands.”
Gunther didn’t respond, choosing instead to wait her out. As if reacting to a question, she added, “Okay, maybe more than that, but it was still like a big frigging deal. I mean, Jesus, he asked me to marry him. How stupid is that?”
“What were his plans after you got married? He must’ve said.”
She laughed sadly. “Shit, yeah. Did he ever. Can you believe it? We were supposed to settle down and live with his folks. ‘Just like Jeff and Linda,’ was what he said.” She spread her arms wide. “Look at me, for Christ’s sake. Do I look like I belong on a farm, much less playing house with the Dragon Lady? Jesus, that would’ve been World War III right there.”
He couldn’t repress a smile. “It does seem like a tight fit.”
She shook her head. “Tight like a straitjacket. You got that right.”
“I heard you took up with him in the first place to get back at Barry Newhouse.”
She was caught by surprise. “You been getting around.” She let out a sigh. “Well, I wish they were wrong, but I guess that’s true. Barry was being an asshole. Bobby seemed the perfect way to stick it up his butt.”
Again, Joe remained still.
And again, she reacted as if accused. “Well, Bobby was perfect. Like a choirboy. And it’s not like I stayed with him just because of Barry.”
“You fell in love with him, after all?”
She tossed her head, the tough girl regaining her dignity. “Yeah, right. Not likely. Talk about a match made in hell. No, I didn’t fall in love. But you couldn’t not like the guy. He was so… you know… earnest. It was so dopey, it was cute. For a while.”
“You dumped him once earlier.”
She looked uncomfortable. “Shit, what don’t you know?” she said. “I tried, yeah. But he took it so hard, I felt sorry for him. The second time, though, I wasn’t backing down.”
“That was just before the fire?” Joe asked.
Her eyes widened. “That’s what I was telling you. It was the same day. When I first heard about it, I thought maybe he’d killed himself.”
“You don’t still think so?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. I didn’t know that’s what happened.”
Joe held up both hands to stop her in her tracks. “No, no. It didn’t. But I need to ask you: Was he that depressed that night?”
“He wasn’t happy. Pulled the same routine he did the first time-crying and everything. But it didn’t get to me as much. I thought maybe even he knew we weren’t too good for each other by then.”
“Did he say what he’d be doing that night?”
She looked rueful. “What? Like killing himself? No. He was wicked bummed out, and he left. That was it.”
Joe returned to an earlier topic. “What about Barry? He must’ve been angry after you and he split up.”
“He wasn’t happy,” she admitted.
“Did he say he might go after Bobby?”
Her tone was dismissive. “He said he’d break him in two, but it didn’t mean anything. Barry’s all talk. That’s one of the reasons I dumped him. Plus, if it ever got down to it, Bobby probably could’ve kicked his butt. Barry’s not in great shape, and Bobby was pretty strong.” She paused before adding, “That would’ve been fun to see.”
“So Barry didn’t say anything specific?”
“No.”
“What about Rick Frantz?” he asked.
She stiffened. “What about him?”
“You were seen kissing him in the supermarket parking lot. Rick must’ve wanted you to himself.”
“You don’t know Rick. Even with all your snooping around.”
“So it’s not serious between you two?”
“Nothing’s serious with Rick. I was with him because I was sick of Bobby and needed a break. Who told you about that anyhow? I can’t believe this place. You can’t take a shit around here without everybody knowing.”
Joe ignored her. “You went to school with Bobby, didn’t you?”
“Till I blew out of there, yeah. I was a year ahead of him.” She added with unintentional irony, “I’m older.”
“How was he treated there? Any troubles?”
Her expression darkened. “His troubles weren’t at school. They were at home, with that mother.”
Joe rested against a large granite stone behind him, hiking one leg up for comfort. Most of the mourners were gone by now, and a small crew of workers had appeared to tidy up the burial site. Jonathon Michael was chatting with someone by the distant road. In the opposite direction, there was, just discernible, the tiny streak of a boat’s wake far out in the middle of the lake, where the water was no longer frozen.
“Did he and his mom have a bad relationship?” Joe asked.
“You saw how she is,” Marianne burst out, pointing down the road.
“That doesn’t tell me how they were with each other.”
She made a face. “Weird, if you ask me. She’s got a mouth on her like nobody’s business-always tearing people down, including her own family. But Bobby seemed clueless.”
“Did she spoil him?”
“No. She gave him shit, too. But it wasn’t as bad, and he didn’t seem to mind, so they kind of canceled each other out.”
“Like a mutual understanding?”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Not that you could really tell. It was just something I noticed.”
Joe reflected a moment on what he’d learned so far. “Was Bobby a happy guy?” he finally asked.
She crouched down and gathered a little snow in her hand. The presence of snow seemed at odds with the pleasant temperature. It was a good sign for maple sugarers, who needed warm days and cold nights.