She had crossed her plump arms in front of her large bosom. She wore faded Levi’s and heavy black boots. The trousers were too long; the extra material bunched across the tops of her boots in twin blue crinkles.
Lori Sheets drove a school bus for a living. That was difficult work, especially in these mountains. Keeping control of a big vehicle required power and savvy. And many times, the drivers had to perform their own emergency maintenance. Bell had expected Lori Sheets to be a beefy woman, and she was. The only aspect of her appearance that had surprised Bell was the hairdo. The frosting was done well, and the styling was expert; her hair was arranged in soft winsome scallops that added an improbable touch of delicacy to her large face. Where would Lori Sheets find the time or the money for such a high-maintenance hairstyle?
Instead of reaching out to shake Bell’s hand, Lori leaned forward and dipped her head in an odd little gesture that was half nod, half bow. She kept her arms crossed in front of her chest.
‘Mrs Elkins,’ she said, ‘we’re just so grateful you come up to see us like this. We know you didn’t have to.’
‘I wanted to make sure I had all the information I needed. Can we go inside?’
‘Oh, sure. Sure.’
The moment they walked in the front door of the trailer, Bell understood how Lori Sheets kept up her hairstyle. The living room had been tricked up to look like a miniature salon. Three kitchen chairs were arranged side by side along one wall, like seats in a waiting area. Hanging over a fourth chair was a hair dryer with a lime green, hard plastic shell. There was also, on a series of plank shelves that scaled a dark-paneled wall, a variety of plastic containers and aerosol cans that Bell recognized as sample shampoos, conditioners, sprays, and gels, the kind supplied in hotel bathrooms, and in another corner, a wooden crate filled with glossy, oversized magazines, on the covers of which emaciated young women struck poses of complicated physical geometry. The regular furniture – couch, coffee table, TV cabinet – had all been shoved into a sharp-edged conglomeration at the far end of the room to make space for the beauty equipment.
As Bell looked around, Deanna Sheets walked into the room from the kitchen. A dark gold sweatshirt hung from her high, angular shoulders; her sticklike legs were encased in a pair of black tights, and she wore her honey-colored hair in a series of fluffy, tousled layers that artfully framed her small face.
Bell reached out her hand to Deanna. ‘I know this is a really hard time for your family, but I’m here to find out a little bit more about Albie.’
The fingers that Deanna offered back to Bell were limp. Bell had to do all the work of the handshake.
‘So.’ Bell turned around, taking in the room. ‘What’s all this?’
Deanna opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Her gaze drifted toward the orange shag carpet.
Lori Sheets stepped forward, patting her daughter’s petite shoulder. Lori hadn’t taken off her jacket and didn’t ask Bell to take off her sweater, either; there didn’t seem to be any heat on in the trailer, and the air was cold.
‘Deanna wants to be a stylist,’ Lori said, ‘and she needs a place to practice. So I let her set up in here. This is all hers, all the things she’s collected and put together.’
‘I see.’
The room was too small for three people plus all of the hairdressing equipment, which made Bell wonder how it had worked when Albie was here, too. Albie was a big man, a tick over six feet tall and at least 275 pounds.
‘Well,’ Bell said. ‘I just wanted to have a brief chat. I’m not going to ask you about the facts of the case, mind you. We won’t be discussing the day it all happened. That’s for the trial. I want to know about Albie.’
Lori nodded.
‘You want to sit down?’ she asked dubiously. The couch was turned sideways and crammed at the other end of the room, definitely a challenge to reach, and if they all chose to sit, they’d be bunched too close together, like helpless siblings in the back of a station wagon on a long car trip.
‘No. This won’t take long.’
Lori was visibly relieved. ‘How about some coffee, then?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ Bell had brought in her briefcase but didn’t really need it. She