Shades of Twilight

"That, and trying to get her to eat. If she’s upset or

nervous, she can’t eat, and I was worried about what this would do to her." "You think she’s-what’s the word-aner-something? Starving herself to death, "Anorexic. Maybe. I don’t know. I told her that I’d talk to Aunt Lucinda and make the others stay off her back, if she would promise to eat. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, Jessie walked in, and all hell broke loose."

"is that the first time Roanna’s kissed you?"

"Except for pecks on the cheek, yes."

"So there’s nothing at all romantic going on between the two of you?"

"No," Webb said, the word clipped.

"I heard she’s got a crush on you. A sweet young girl like that, a lot of men would be tempted."

"She depends on me a lot, has since her folks died. It’s no big secret."

"Was Jessie jealous of Roanna "Not to my knowledge. She had no reason to be."

"Even though you get along real good with Roanna? From what I hear, you and Jessie hadn’t been getting along at a. Maybe she was jealous about that."

"You hear a lot, Booley," Webb said tiredly.

"Jessie wasn’t jealous. She threw temper tantrums whenever she didn’t get her way. She was mad at me for going to Nashville this morning, and when she saw Roanna kissing me, that was just an excuse to raise hell."

"The argument turned violent, didn’t it?" "I threw a glass and broke it."

"Did you hit Jessie?"

6"No."

"Have you ever hit her?"

"No." He paused, and shook his head.

"I spanked her ass once when she was sixteen, if that counts."

Booley restrained a grin. Now wasn’t the time for amusement, but Jessie getting her rear end tanned was something he’d liked to have seen. A lot of kids nowadays, boys and girls both, would benefit greatly from the same treatment.

Webb would have been just seventeen at the time, but he’d always been older than his years.

"What happened then?"

"Jessie was getting more and more out of control. I left before things could get out of hand." "What time did you leave?"

"Hell, I don’t know. Eight, eight-thirty."

"Did you go back?"

"No."

"Where did you go?"

"I drove around a while, over to Florence."

"Did anybody you know see you, so they can verify it?"

"I don’t know."

"What did you do? Just drive around?"

"For a while, like I said. Then I went to the Waffle Hut on Jackson Highway."

"What time did you get there?"

"Ten o’clock, maybe."

"What time did you leave?"

"After two. I didn’t want to come home until I’d cooled down."

"So you were there about four hours? I reckon the waitress would remember that, don’t you?"

Webb didn’t reply. He thought it likely, because she had tried several times to strike up a conversation, but he hadn’t been in the mood for chitchat. Booley would check it out, the waitress would verify his presence, and that would be the end of it. But who would Booley look at as a suspect then? Roanna?

"You can go on home," Booley said after a minute.

"Don’t guess I have to tell you to stick close. No going out of town on business trips or anything like that."

Webb’s gaze was cold and hard.

"I’d hardly be scheduling a business trip when I have to bury my wife."

"Well, as to that. Considering the nature of her death, there’s gotta be an autopsy. Normally that only delays the funeral a day or two, but sometimes it can be longer. I’ll have to let you know." Booley leaned forward, his jowly

face earnest.

"Webb, son, I’ll tell you plain, I don’t know about this. It’s a sorry fact that when a woman gets killed, it’s usually her husband or boyfriend who did it. Now, you’ve never struck me as the type, but then neither have a lot of other folks I’ve wound up arresting. I gotta suspect you, and I gotta check everything out. On the other hand, if you have any suspicions yourself, I’d appreciate hearing about them. Families always have their little twists and secrets. Why, your folks were sure Roanna had killed Jessie, and they were treating her like she was poison or something, until I told them that I didn’t think she’d done it."

Booley was a country-plain, unsophisticated good old boy, but he’d been in law enforcement for a long time, and he knew how to read people. In his way, he used the same tactics Columbo had made famous on television, just kind of easing around and carrying on casual conversations and putting the pieces together. Webb resisted the invitation to confide in the sheriff, instead saying, "May I go now?"

Booley waved a meaty hand.

"Sure. But like I said, stick close to home." He heaved his bulk out of the chair.

"I might as well drive you home myself. It’s already morning, so I’m not going to get any sleep anyway."

Roanna was hiding, not the way she had when she was little by crawling under furniture or burrowing deep in a closet, but nevertheless she had removed herself from the grim, hushed activity in the house. She had retreated to the bay window where once she had watched Webb and Jessie sit in the garden swing, while behind her the rest of the family had discussed what to do with her. She was still wrapped tight in the blanket the paramedic had put around her, holding the edges together with cold, bloodless fingers. She sat watching the slowly arriving dawn, ignoring the hum of voices behind her, shutting it all out.

She tried not to think about Jessie, but no amount of effort could erase that bloody scene from her mind. She didn’t have to actively think about it, it was just there, like the window. Death had so altered Jessie that at first Roanna had simply stood there, gaping at the body without quite realizing that it was real, or even recognizing her cousin. Her head had been oddly misshapen, flattened around a huge open wound where her skull had literally been cracked open. She had been awkwardly sprawled with her neck bent as her head rested against the raised rock hearth.