Danny and I took seats at the table farthest from the television, next to the table where the couple had sat. I licked my cone with little enthusiasm and watched them enjoy theirs.
The man shook his head. “I’m not surprised. The way the two of them were going at it, I could tell there was going to be trouble.”
“Did you tell the sheriff’s deputy that the dead guy kept saying, ‘You killed her, you bastard’?”
“I told him, Gladys.”
“And that he said, ‘You should have died, not her’?”
“Yes, Gladys.”
“And that the woman with him said, ‘Leave him be, Jimmy; it won’t bring Monica back?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Well, I guess that’s all we can do. Sure looks like that Rowe killed him, though.”
Danny ate his cone with gusto, seemingly oblivious to the discussion going on behind him. I tried to keep my eyes averted, but my gaze returned to the man’s face over and over, hoping he’d say more.
I should have been relieved not to be the only witness to Brennan’s and the redhead’s argument on the street. Apparently this couple not only witnessed the scene but got an earful and had let the Sheriff’s Department know. Instead, I feared evidence was mounting against Brennan, who I still believed incapable of murder. I did wonder what happened to the woman in the pink raincoat, who had been hanging from the redhead’s arm, apparently pleading with him to leave Brennan be. She never appeared at the scene. Where could she have gone?
The man crunched up the last of his cone and wiped his lips.
“Are you ready to go, Gladys?”
She rose. “Yes, we have a long drive ahead of us.”
The man hitched up his pants. “I can’t say I’m all that eager to get behind the wheel. I keep seeing that man lying there on the road, when just minutes before he was so animated. I wonder how them fellas knew each other.”
Gladys put her hand through the crook of his arm. “I’m sure it’s all going to come out. We may not hear about it at home, though. This is local news.”
I pondered the woman’s statement as the bell on the ice cream shop door announced their departure. Was this going to be just local, small-town news? If the tragedy was deemed an accident by investigators, then probably so. But if investigators ruled this death a homicide, would the story get widespread press? I supposed it depended on other breaking stories and perhaps on how sensational this story might become. For Brennan Rowe’s and Cory’s sakes, I hoped it would all be cleared as an accident, but after hearing what appeared to be the couple’s eyewitness account of the argument on the street and learning of the photographer’s shot of Brennan’s arm reaching out into the street near the fallen man, even I wondered about Brennan’s involvement. Worse, I knew the residents in Wachobe had joked forever about what Brennan might have hidden in the poured cement basements of the homes and office buildings he erected there. After all these years, might the jokes have been more than that? Did Brennan really have something to hide? If so, had he hidden it from Cory as well?
Cory, I knew for a fact, did not appreciate having his partners hide things from him. He preferred honesty, even brutal honesty, perhaps the reason he and I were such close friends. Would this tragedy be the end of his relationship with Brennan, not to mention Brennan’s days as a free man? And what about Cory’s already existing fears that Brennan was having an affair?
My cell phone chirped. I flipped it open.
“Darlin’, Cory and I are on our way to pick you up. He hasn’t eaten and I think he should. I called the lodge. They can seat us at nine thirty.”
I heard Cory say he wasn’t hungry.
My ice cream cone stuck in my throat. Poor Cory. He was undoubtedly devastated, but Ray believed in “the show must go on” as did I. Most days Cory would have agreed with us. Today I wasn’t so sure.
The local lodge Ray had referred to was known as the official racers’ hangout. On its walls could be found the photographs and autographs of many of the greats, especially the race winners of year’s past. The five of us would normally look forward to rubbing elbows there with this year’s best drivers. Tonight it seemed like it could be a strain.
“What about Brennan?”
“He declined our assistance.”
“What?”
“Let’s talk about it later.” Ray’s tone implied he