freeze into refusal and mulishness at a moment’s notice. But where I was lanky from running and idle reading, Hally was thickly-built from years of football and work. I’d been a much gawkier kid. Hally was a senior at Mirabeau High and was probably years ahead sexually of where I’d been at that age. I just hoped he wasn’t ahead of where I was now.
I shook his hand, ignoring the dirt on his palms.
“Hey, Jordy. How’s Cousin Anne doing?” he asked.
I admit surprise; the Schneiders live no more than three houses down from us but they’ve only shown a passing interest in Mama’s decline. Hally’s annoyingly peppy mother Janice boasted a better attendance record at library board meetings than she did in checking up on her neighboring kinfolk.
“She’s about the same, Hally.”
He shook his head. “Damn shame. I know Mom keeps meaning to come over and see you and Arlene and Anne. I see Mark in the neighborhood, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t care to discuss his grandmother.”
I suspected that Hally didn’t do much to curry a friendship with Mark. Hally was a senior, a popular athlete from a perfect family; Mark was a moody freshman loner stuck with a mouthy mother, a mouthier uncle, and a diminishing grandmother.
I sighed. I halfway felt like telling Hally that the Schneiders had been crappy kinfolk, but I decided it wasn’t the time or place. “It’s hard. Listen, Hally, I wanted to see you about something else.”
He looked bemusedly at the porch. “Hope it’s not about Miz Quiff. I assure you my intentions are honorable.”
I laughed. “No, not about Eula Mae.” Curiosity couldn’t resist though. “She hasn’t acted, uh, inappropriately toward you, has she?”
It was his turn to laugh. “Not at all, although I’m sure she thinks I never see her looking at me. I kind of like older women, but Eula Mae’s not my type.”
“No, I need to discuss a different topic with you. I guess you heard about Beta Harcher.”
Hally’s smile faded. “Yeah, I heard. Mom told me about it. You found her in the library?”
“Yeah.” And why didn’t you ask me about that straightaway? I wondered. Not every day someone you encounter has stumbled across a corpse, and you’d think the topic would debut damn early in the conversation. “Did you know her?”
Hally blinked. “Why are you asking?”
I figured a football player like Hally appreciated bluntness. I told him about the list. Shock spilled across his face.
“Honest to God, Jordy, I don’t know why that woman would have my name there.” Hally wiped a sweaty lip with the back of his garden-gloved hand.
“There was a Bible quote by each name. Yours was Proverbs 14:9.
Fools make a mock at sin.
”
Hally’s tongue darted out to his lips and back again, nervously. “Why would she write something like that about me?”
“I thought you’d know. You been doing any sinnin’ lately?” I said it as nicely as I could, but I’ve never believed in treating errant family members with kid gloves. Or garden gloves, in this case.
Hally looked spooked. He took a step backward and fell over the bag of weeds. Dirt and twigs stuck to his sweaty back and he jumped up quickly, brushing them off his jeans and mumbling about being clumsy in the off-season.
I’d seen that boy play football with the grace of adancer, so I crossed my arms and frowned at him. “What’s got the chigger in your pants?”
“It’s a little unnerving, you know, to hear some dead person was writing shit—I mean stuff—about you.” Good thing sweet cousin Janice wasn’t there to hear her little boy cuss. Janice would smile big as day while she scrubbed your mouth with lye soap.
“So how did Beta know you, Hally? She must’ve, to write what she did.”
The words came quickly. “She knew Mom from the library and the church. I knew her from Sunday school; I’m president of the youth group there. And she babysat for us sometimes, when I had a date or
I shook his hand, ignoring the dirt on his palms.
“Hey, Jordy. How’s Cousin Anne doing?” he asked.
I admit surprise; the Schneiders live no more than three houses down from us but they’ve only shown a passing interest in Mama’s decline. Hally’s annoyingly peppy mother Janice boasted a better attendance record at library board meetings than she did in checking up on her neighboring kinfolk.
“She’s about the same, Hally.”
He shook his head. “Damn shame. I know Mom keeps meaning to come over and see you and Arlene and Anne. I see Mark in the neighborhood, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t care to discuss his grandmother.”
I suspected that Hally didn’t do much to curry a friendship with Mark. Hally was a senior, a popular athlete from a perfect family; Mark was a moody freshman loner stuck with a mouthy mother, a mouthier uncle, and a diminishing grandmother.
I sighed. I halfway felt like telling Hally that the Schneiders had been crappy kinfolk, but I decided it wasn’t the time or place. “It’s hard. Listen, Hally, I wanted to see you about something else.”
He looked bemusedly at the porch. “Hope it’s not about Miz Quiff. I assure you my intentions are honorable.”
I laughed. “No, not about Eula Mae.” Curiosity couldn’t resist though. “She hasn’t acted, uh, inappropriately toward you, has she?”
It was his turn to laugh. “Not at all, although I’m sure she thinks I never see her looking at me. I kind of like older women, but Eula Mae’s not my type.”
“No, I need to discuss a different topic with you. I guess you heard about Beta Harcher.”
Hally’s smile faded. “Yeah, I heard. Mom told me about it. You found her in the library?”
“Yeah.” And why didn’t you ask me about that straightaway? I wondered. Not every day someone you encounter has stumbled across a corpse, and you’d think the topic would debut damn early in the conversation. “Did you know her?”
Hally blinked. “Why are you asking?”
I figured a football player like Hally appreciated bluntness. I told him about the list. Shock spilled across his face.
“Honest to God, Jordy, I don’t know why that woman would have my name there.” Hally wiped a sweaty lip with the back of his garden-gloved hand.
“There was a Bible quote by each name. Yours was Proverbs 14:9.
Fools make a mock at sin.
”
Hally’s tongue darted out to his lips and back again, nervously. “Why would she write something like that about me?”
“I thought you’d know. You been doing any sinnin’ lately?” I said it as nicely as I could, but I’ve never believed in treating errant family members with kid gloves. Or garden gloves, in this case.
Hally looked spooked. He took a step backward and fell over the bag of weeds. Dirt and twigs stuck to his sweaty back and he jumped up quickly, brushing them off his jeans and mumbling about being clumsy in the off-season.
I’d seen that boy play football with the grace of adancer, so I crossed my arms and frowned at him. “What’s got the chigger in your pants?”
“It’s a little unnerving, you know, to hear some dead person was writing shit—I mean stuff—about you.” Good thing sweet cousin Janice wasn’t there to hear her little boy cuss. Janice would smile big as day while she scrubbed your mouth with lye soap.
“So how did Beta know you, Hally? She must’ve, to write what she did.”
The words came quickly. “She knew Mom from the library and the church. I knew her from Sunday school; I’m president of the youth group there. And she babysat for us sometimes, when I had a date or
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