call a conversation,” Angel said dryly. “He looked kind of taken aback when he saw it was my car, but then it was like he figured if I lived out here in Roe’s garage apartment, giving me a ticket was almost as good as giving her one. And he was right, I probably was seven inches from the curb instead of six. But I wasn’t in a good mood.”
This had been a real speech for Angel, who did not tend to be chatty. But Padgett Lanier wanted more.
“So you had words?” he prodded her.
Angel sighed. “I asked him why he was giving me a ticket and he told me I was parked too far from the curb, and he asked me how Roe was doing, had she found any more bodies lately, and I told him he was giving me a bullshit ticket, and he said he was sure there was some ordinance still on the books about public bad language, and did I want to see if I could karate-chop my way out of a jail cell.”
Lanier stared at her, fascinated. “And what did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“You didn’t respond?”
“No point to it. He’d decided he was going to give me the ticket.”
Lanier seemed nonplused. He eyed Angel a moment or two longer, then asked Martin if he’d seen Jack Burns lately.
“The last time I saw Jack Burns was two years ago, about the time I met my wife,” Martin said calmly. His fingers dug into the tight muscles of my neck and I tilted my head back.
“And you, Mr. Youngblood?”
“Hadn’t ever met him.”
“You weren’t mad about your wife getting a ticket?”
“If you park seven inches from the curb, you gotta take what’s coming to you.”
Padgett Lanier’s pale face had a tendency to flush easily. We watched now with some trepidation as he turned a tomato red. The sheriff dismissed us curtly, and turned his attention to the search his men were making in our yard. I wanted to beg them not to trample my poor little just-plowed garden: but I decided that would be unfeeling.
With the passage of a couple of hours, supper had become just possible. I called the Youngbloods’ apartment to ask Shelby and Angel if they wanted to share our meal, but Angel said she’d rather lie down than eat, and Shelby didn’t want to leave her.
Martin and I had pork chops, fried green tomatoes (a rare indulgence), Waldorf salad, and I’d made some biscuits. But we were just picking at the food. Martin had been quiet throughout the meal, which was unusual. Normally, we talked to each other at the table, before we went about our separate pursuits in the evening. (Sometimes they were mutual pursuits, but that usually came later. About bedtime.)
Our house felt very quiet after the onslaught of county and city police. We hadn’t had that many people around since the last year’s Christmas party.
“Roe, I’m worried about this,” Martin said finally. His pale brown eyes focused on me; Martin looks into the eyes of the people he’s talking to. That can be intimidating, or exciting.
“I know. I am, too, of course.”
“Not just Jack Burns being killed, but him being dumped here.”
“Of course,” I said again, not understanding what Martin was getting at.
“As Sheriff Lanier pointed out, people know that you and he didn’t get along.”
“But I was absolutely, provably on the ground when he landed. So I couldn’t have done it,” I said dismissively. “Besides which, I can’t fly a plane.”
“There’s something wrong about it.” Martin was having some problem formulating his thoughts, unusual for him. He’s used to expressing himself quickly and decisively in front of a lot of people.
I didn’t want to say “Of course,” again, but that was what I was thinking.
“How long has it been since you talked to him?” Martin asked.
“The sheriff asked me that this afternoon. The best I can recall, I haven’t seen Jack to speak to since . . . two and a half years ago at the Anderton house. Same as you.” The day Martin and I had met. He smiled at me now, warmly but briefly, to show me he, too, remembered that day very well.
“Did you think Angel reacted normally today?” Martin said suddenly.
“No, I don’t think so at all,” I said, glad he’d said it instead of me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Angel’s not one to flinch away from anything unpleasant, and she has the strongest stomach of anyone I know. For some reason, this just threw