guns. It’s amazing any of us are alive.”
He realized too late what he’d said. Before he could utter a pathetic sorry , I stopped him with a flick of my hand, the standard for excusing someone with no ill intent when they accidentally spit on your father’s grave.
“ So you’re going with a tall, dark stranger, despite no evidence of it?”
“As much evidence for my theory as the ones the prosecution spouted.”
“ You testified that you never heard my dad threaten Bobby Kettrick. But there’s no way he didn’t spout off about Bobby.”
Enzo took a moment. “If there was a question in there, you answered it yourself.”
“ So you lied when you told the police you never heard my dad or Kevin make threats against Bobby?”
A curtain rose over Enzo’s body and face, from the bottom up. Everything with him was controlled. Probably a hallmark of a successful businessman. The change rumbled through him, transforming his large frame from gentle to daunting. His voice remained quiet, demanding full attention. “First of all, there were never direct threats so I didn’t outright lie. Secondly, I was young and Hispanic—a perfect target for the police—but I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to give them any extra ammo to use against anyone.”
“And the more information you did have, the deeper they’d have drawn you in.”
“ Bad enough I was involved at all, putting my whole family at risk. I didn’t see the point in saying more than the bare minimum.”
“What about Shelby Anderson? Her body turning up two weeks later ? Those hairs and that rope looked bad for my dad. Did he ever say anything about Shelby Anderson, or anything that might make you think he’d hurt a young girl? You can tell me, Enzo. It won’t offend me.”
Enzo sniffed and rubbed his nose, even wiped it with the thin napkin made moist by the sweat of his water. Apparently, curtains couldn’t hide everything going on behind them. “No. Nothing. I really don’t know anything about that case or any connection between Shelby and Bobby,” he said too insistently. “Seemed like serious lack of investigation. But they needed someone to pin it on so they used your dad.” He sniffed again.
Enzo was lying. Why? Which part of my question had bothered him?
“How well did you know Shelby?”
“ Not at all, actually. Heard she was a bit of a wild child.”
“How do you think her body got in the creek?”
“Someone must have dumped her after she died, right? Couldn’t speculate about more if I wanted to. Maybe an accident. I hate to say it, but maybe a rape.”
“ She was a mess,” I said. “Broken bones. Ligature marks on a snapped neck. Shirt buttoned all wrong. But she wasn’t raped. By my father or anyone else. They tested and there was no bruising or sperm down below.”
I’m not sure if Enzo’s look of repugnance was due to unwanted intimacy with the details of the case or to the callousness with which I was able to discuss my father’s sperm—or lack thereof.
“ You never heard anything later on?” I said. “People talking at school? Your cousins picking up some gossip through the grapevine? Someone must have gotten the rumor mill going.”
Enzo looked relieved that I’d changed the subject a bit, like he’d reached steady ground after a bumpy ride. “I wasn’t exactly in the in crowd,” he said, “and my cousins hung out with their own kind.”
“ What about that rope?” I said. “The rope found around Shelby’s waist was from the same length of rope used to tie up Bobby. That’s what did my father in, don’t you think?”
Enzo sipped the last of his water and wiped the condensation from his hands onto his pants. I wondered whether the moisture on his upper lip was water or sweat. His next words dribbled out from beneath a dry expression that hinted at bitterness. “I think it was the two dead bodies that did your father in.”
“ You know, Enzo, I’m not trying to cause pain for
He realized too late what he’d said. Before he could utter a pathetic sorry , I stopped him with a flick of my hand, the standard for excusing someone with no ill intent when they accidentally spit on your father’s grave.
“ So you’re going with a tall, dark stranger, despite no evidence of it?”
“As much evidence for my theory as the ones the prosecution spouted.”
“ You testified that you never heard my dad threaten Bobby Kettrick. But there’s no way he didn’t spout off about Bobby.”
Enzo took a moment. “If there was a question in there, you answered it yourself.”
“ So you lied when you told the police you never heard my dad or Kevin make threats against Bobby?”
A curtain rose over Enzo’s body and face, from the bottom up. Everything with him was controlled. Probably a hallmark of a successful businessman. The change rumbled through him, transforming his large frame from gentle to daunting. His voice remained quiet, demanding full attention. “First of all, there were never direct threats so I didn’t outright lie. Secondly, I was young and Hispanic—a perfect target for the police—but I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to give them any extra ammo to use against anyone.”
“And the more information you did have, the deeper they’d have drawn you in.”
“ Bad enough I was involved at all, putting my whole family at risk. I didn’t see the point in saying more than the bare minimum.”
“What about Shelby Anderson? Her body turning up two weeks later ? Those hairs and that rope looked bad for my dad. Did he ever say anything about Shelby Anderson, or anything that might make you think he’d hurt a young girl? You can tell me, Enzo. It won’t offend me.”
Enzo sniffed and rubbed his nose, even wiped it with the thin napkin made moist by the sweat of his water. Apparently, curtains couldn’t hide everything going on behind them. “No. Nothing. I really don’t know anything about that case or any connection between Shelby and Bobby,” he said too insistently. “Seemed like serious lack of investigation. But they needed someone to pin it on so they used your dad.” He sniffed again.
Enzo was lying. Why? Which part of my question had bothered him?
“How well did you know Shelby?”
“ Not at all, actually. Heard she was a bit of a wild child.”
“How do you think her body got in the creek?”
“Someone must have dumped her after she died, right? Couldn’t speculate about more if I wanted to. Maybe an accident. I hate to say it, but maybe a rape.”
“ She was a mess,” I said. “Broken bones. Ligature marks on a snapped neck. Shirt buttoned all wrong. But she wasn’t raped. By my father or anyone else. They tested and there was no bruising or sperm down below.”
I’m not sure if Enzo’s look of repugnance was due to unwanted intimacy with the details of the case or to the callousness with which I was able to discuss my father’s sperm—or lack thereof.
“ You never heard anything later on?” I said. “People talking at school? Your cousins picking up some gossip through the grapevine? Someone must have gotten the rumor mill going.”
Enzo looked relieved that I’d changed the subject a bit, like he’d reached steady ground after a bumpy ride. “I wasn’t exactly in the in crowd,” he said, “and my cousins hung out with their own kind.”
“ What about that rope?” I said. “The rope found around Shelby’s waist was from the same length of rope used to tie up Bobby. That’s what did my father in, don’t you think?”
Enzo sipped the last of his water and wiped the condensation from his hands onto his pants. I wondered whether the moisture on his upper lip was water or sweat. His next words dribbled out from beneath a dry expression that hinted at bitterness. “I think it was the two dead bodies that did your father in.”
“ You know, Enzo, I’m not trying to cause pain for
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