what McGovern had been driving at, and it wasn't really so surprising, was it?
Maybe not, but it didn't change that sinking feeling.
"And Johnny said all the doors were locked."
"Yes."
"From the inside."
"Uh-huh, but-"
McGovern got up from his chair so suddenly that for one crazy moment Ralph had the idea that he was going to run away, perhaps screaming Watch out for Roberts! He's gone crazy! as he went. But instead of bolting down the steps, he turned toward the door leading back into the house. In some ways Ralph found this even more alarming.
"What are you going to do?"
"Call Larry Perrault," McGovern said. "May's younger brother.
He still lives out in Carriville. She'll be buried in Carriville, I imagine me." McGovern gave Ralph a strange, speculative look. "What did you think I was going to do?"
"I don't know," Ralph said uneasily. "For a second there I thought you were going to run away like the Gingerbread Man."
"Mope." McGovern reached out and patted him on the shoulder, but to Ralph the gesture felt cold and comfortless. Perfunctory, "What does Mrs. Locher's brother have to do with any of this?"
"Johnny said they sent May's body down to Augusta for a more comprehensive autopsy, right?"
"Well, I think the word he actually used was postmortem-" McGovern waved this away. "Same difference, believe me. If anything odd does crop up-anything suggesting that she was murdered-Larry would have to be informed. He's her only close living relative."
"Yes, but won't he wonder what your interest is?"
"Oh, I don't think we have to worry about that," McGovern said, speaking in a soothing tone Ralph didn't care for at all. "I'll say the police have sealed off the house and that the old Harris Avenue rumor mill is turning briskly. He knows May and I were school chums, and that I visited her regularly over the last couple of years.
Larry and I aren't crazy about each other, but we get along reasonably well. He'll tell me what I want to know if for no other reason than that we're both Carriville survivors. Get it?"
"I guess so, but-"
"I hope so," McGovern said, and suddenly he looked like a very old and very ugly reptile-a gila monster, or perhaps a basilisk lizard. He pointed a finger at Ralph. "I'm not a stupid man, and I do know how to respect a confidence. Your face just now said you weren't sure about that, and I resent it. I resent the hell out of it."
"I'm sorry," Ralph said. He was stunned by McGovern's outburst.
McGovern looked at him a moment longer with his leathery lips pulled back against his too-large dentures, then nodded. "Yeah, okay, apology accepted. You've been sleeping like shit, I have to factor that into the equation, and as for me, I can't seem to get Bob Polhurst off my mind." He heaved one of his weightiest poor-oldBill sighs.
"Listen-if you'd prefer me not to try calling May's brother "No, no," Ralph said, thinking that what he'd like to do was roll the clock back ten minutes or so and cancel this entire conversation.
And then a sentiment he was sure Bill McGovern would appreciate floated into his mind, fully constructed and ready for use. "I'm sorry if I impuned your discretion."
McGovern sanded, reluctantly at first and then with his whole face.
"Now I know what keeps you awake-thinking up crap like that.
Sit still, Ralph, and think good thoughts about a hippopotamus, as my mother used to say. I'll be right back. Probably won't even catch him in, you know; funeral arrangements and all that. Want to look at the paper while you wait?"
"Sure. Thanks."
McGovern handed him the paper, which still retained the tube shape into which it had been rolled, then went inside. Ralph glanced at the front page. The headline read PRO-CHOICE, PRO-LIFE ADVOCATES READY FOR ACTIVIST's ARRIVAL. The story was flanked by two news photographs.
One showed half a dozen young women making signs which said things like OUR BODIES, OUR CHOICE and IT's A BRAND-NEW DAY IN DERRY! The other showed picketers marching in front of WomanCare. They carried no signs and needed none; the hooded black robes they wore and the scythes they carried said it all.
Ralph heaved a sigh of his own, dropped the paper onto the seat of the rocking chair beside him, and watched Tuesday morning unfold along Harris Avenue. It occurred to him that McGovern might well be on the phone with John Leydecker rather than Larry Perrault, and that the two of them might at this very