“Now who would I tell?”
“I dunno. Carmela. Can’t you just see her doing a daily on the progress of the 102? She eats this kind of stuff up.”
“You can’t really blame her. It is intriguing.”
“Intriguing? It’s macabre.”
A bolt of lightning lit up the backyard and rain came down in a sheet. Mary flew into the kitchen with a basketful of laundry. “Not that one of my fully grown daughters would come out and give me a hand!” she cried, but she wasn’t angry, she was thrilled to feel the sudden rain. Her blood pressure was right up there and her cheeks were pink with pleasure. She pounded barefoot through the house, now dark, now bright with the powerful storm.
“Not a word?” continued Zinnie.
“Don’t be silly.”
“Well. Besides his little pocketful of possessions: a boy scout knife, baseball cards, and a couple of other things, the kid had a man’s new cufflink on him. A roulette wheel. Like a real one. With a little bead in it. On the top was a neat little knob that you could spin the bead with.”
“So?”
“‘So’ she says. You’re right. It might mean nothing at all. But if Miguel—that was the kid’s name—if Miguel knew the guy who killed him … if he’d met with him before, that might be just the kind of thing that would entice a little boy into the woods, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes. Except that that could have come from anywhere. His father—”
“Didn’t. They checked.”
“Or an uncle—”
“An uncle could have killed him, too.”
“What a thought!”
“What a thought that anybody would have done it.”
“I’ll say one thing. Inanimate objects sometimes carry messages.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like from the dead.”
“Oh, please stop. You and your heebie-jeebie nonsense!”
“It’s not nonsense.” And why did a roulette wheel cufflink ring a bell?
“Right. Out with the Ouija board. I could clobber Daddy. He knows how worried I am to have Michaelaen out. Why doesn’t he bring him back? Sometimes I think he’s being purposely annoying. He is. He does it because he thinks that now that the cat is out of the bag and everyone knows that Freddy is gay, that means that Michaelaen is his. It’s like his macho power trip. Meanwhile, he was the one who was so hot on me marrying Freddy in the first place. Sure. Cause he thought Freddy was on his way to playing pro ball.”
“Wait a minute. The guy fooled you, didn’t he? Why shouldn’t he have fooled Daddy? You’re just mad at all men because Freddy turned out gay.”
“Just the opposite. I never felt more gently inclined.” She made a vulgar, rhythmic movement that made Claire laugh. “Anyhow, I’m going up there tonight. To Freddy’s. You wanna come with me?”
“No. I’m afraid of Freddy. He’s so caustic and witty. He makes me feel vaguely stupid.”
“He thinks you’re beautiful. No. He says you’re not really beautiful but you have these moments when you shine through and emote pure beauty.”
“Freddy said that?”
“It’s disturbing, he says.”
“How horrible. Now I’ll never know when he’s watching me if he’s thinking I’m having a moment or not. Not that I should care … but women do care even if we don’t really. Something diabolical in us wants everyone we meet to fall in love with us if we think there’s a possibility, however remote. It pleases our ravenous vanity. Isn’t it unhealthy? How can women ever unite?”
“We can’t. So why don’t you come tonight?”
“Money, for one thing.”
“I have money. Anyway, Freddy would never let us pay. I thought you said you had some money saved.”
“Yes. For rent. For Mom and Dad so I’m not a total parasite. And to pay for film, ciggies, coffee, chemicals.”
“In that order.”
“That’s not nothing, you know. And paper. Good-quality paper.” Claire’s eyes lit up when she said “good-quality paper.” “Besides. Why do you always have to go to Freddy’s?”
Zinnie looped Michaelaen’s yo-yo around her finger and coiled it up. “I feel guilty not going. I feel like he needs my support. Only I can’t pick up anybody there or I’ll feel more guilty. In front of him, I mean. It’s a no-win sitch. What the hell is that?”
“What?” She was trying to remember where she’d seen a roulette wheel cufflink before. Or had she never seen one?
“Those. Those muddy pots.”
“They’re my herbs. The one you’re pointing to is borage. Or it will be. The others are basil, thyme, coriander, marjoram, chamomile, and comfrey.” She didn’t mention the cannabis she’d started in the yard. She’d only planted it for fun, really. To see how well it would flourish.
Zinnie looked into the pots with distaste. “Yeah. But what are they for?”
“I like them, Zin. Wait till they begin to grow. You’ll like them. You will.”