Anna looked out Cooper’s back window, at the shattered warehouse behind rows of cherry trees. She wasn’t sure this qualified.
When she went upstairs to shower, Jody was still sleeping. Anna tried to be quiet, but as she shuffled around, Jody sat up, sleepy and disheveled. “Hey, Annie.”
“Hey, Jo. Welcome to the world. How’s your wrist feeling?”
Jody looked at her bandaged arm. “Okay. But I don’t think I can work today.” Her job on the GM assembly line involved physical labor and repetitive motions.
“Call in a sick day?”
“Yeah. Want to help me buy a new phone?” Jody asked. “I need to go back to my house and check out the mess the police made. I have a plumber coming at four.”
“Actually, first I want to go out and investigate,” Anna said. “Talk to witnesses and stuff. The first few days are important.”
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll get dressed and come with.”
“No. You need to keep a low profile, talk to as few people as possible. The fewer statements you make in the next few days, the better.”
“Annie, it’s not a good idea for you to be going around Holly Grove all by yourself.”
Anna was touched by Jody’s worry. If anyone were at risk here, it was Jody.
“Cooper’s coming in case I need a gunslinger. Let’s do this: You go buy your phone. I’ll do my lawyer stuff. We’ll meet at your house at four. Maybe you can call Kathy for company?”
“Nah. She’s always working double shifts, then going to visit her mom at the nursing home. What can I do to help you?”
“Go online and print out your cell-phone log. All your outgoing and incoming calls over the last six months. Do the same for your credit card bills. Any prosecutor worth her salt will get those eventually. I’d like to see your text messages, but those died when your phone fell in the toilet. Print out any e-mails between you and the coach. Don’t delete anything. That’ll give me a head start on what the prosecutor might subpoena. And read all the local papers, front to back. Cut out any story about the coach’s death. I want to read them tonight.”
Jody nodded, seeming glad to have something to do.
“Right now, draw me a map of the houses around yours, with the names of all your neighbors,” Anna said. “I’ll do some door knocking. You don’t by chance have any video cameras mounted outside your house? Anything that would show people coming and going?”
“What do I look like, a Chuck E. Cheese?”
“You were always good at skeeball. How about your neighbors?”
“It’s not that kind of neighborhood.”
12
Anna knew what Jody meant. As Cooper drove his motorcycle into Jody’s subdivision, she held tight to his waist and looked at the neat rows of houses. Homes were ranchers on quarter-acre plots. Tidy landscaping spoke of pride of ownership without frills. This was not one of the gated communities of wealthy Bloomfield Hills, which installed video cameras for the same reason they had swimming pools: so they could advertise an amenity that was rarely used. Nor was it inner-city Detroit, where no shop would be wise to open without a video camera. These were blue-collar workers who mowed their own lawns on Saturdays and knew one another’s names. This was the middle of the middle class, at least what was left of it. Over the last few decades, as one auto plant shut down after another, crops of foreclosure signs sprouted on these green lawns.
Cooper parked at the curb across the street from Jody’s house. Anna took off her helmet and leather jacket and stowed them on the bike. She glanced at the map Jody had drawn and went up to the house next door. A pretty, tired-looking young mother opened the door.
“Oh, hi! Jody’s sister! Anna.”
“Hey, Tammy,” Anna said. “Nice t’see ya.”
She found her midwestern accent coming out. She introduced Cooper to Tammy.
“Come on in,” Tammy said, giving him an appreciative once-over.
Inside, a toddler played in the living room. He waved a sticky hand at her. “Hi, Jo Jo!”
Tammy laughed. “Billy thinks you’re Jody. You do look alike. He loves her. She’s great with him.”
Tammy lifted the child and handed him to Anna, who had no idea how to hold him. Billy didn’t seem to mind as she shifted him about, figuring out how to perch him on her hip. The toddler patted her cheeks with sticky hands.
Tammy said, “I’m dying to hear what’s going on at Jody’s house.”
“Funny, I was hoping you could help me figure it out.”
“Absolutely. Want a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.”
“Jo Jo! Jo Jo!” Billy yelled.
They went into the little kitchen. Cooper held out the chair so Anna could sit at the table. She set the little boy on her lap while Tammy poured coffee.
“Thanks.” Anna said. “So were you home two nights ago?”
“Yep.”
Billy stuck a tiny finger into Anna’s ear. She let out a ticklish yelp, which made the boy giggle. Cooper smiled too and took Billy from her arms. He put the little boy on his shoulders and galloped around the house like a horse. The boy held on to Cooper’s black hair and squealed with delight.
“Did you notice any activity around Jody’s house that night?”
“I did see her leave around eight. She was dressed to kill.” Tammy clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d obviously heard the rumors. “I didn’t mean that. She just looked—nice. Hair all curled into pretty waves, and high heels. Ready for a night on the town.”
Anna blinked. That didn’t sound like her sister. “Did you notice when she came home?”
“I’m early to bed and early to rise these days. I’m sure I was in bed long before she got home.” A note of longing tinged Tammy’s voice. “But I did notice something strange.”
“What was it?”
“Look, I feel weird about this. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I love Jody. But I don’t want to lie. I heard Jody yelling in the middle of the night.”
Anna’s stomach clenched.
“What was she yelling?”
“I couldn’t tell. I’m not even sure it was her. Maybe it wasn’t! But it sounded like it was coming from her house.” She looked down. “It sounded like her.”
“Definitely a woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Was there a man’s voice too?”
“I didn’t hear one. But I was groggy. Billy had a cold and he was fussy. The yelling next door only went on for a few minutes, and I heard it in between my own cranky kid.”
“What did it sound like? Someone in distress? Calling for help?”
Tammy sighed and looked uncomfortable. “It sounded like a fight.”
“What time was it?”
“I’m not sure. Probably somewhere between two and four in the morning. That’s when Billy gets up for his feeding.”
“Did you happen to see a blue classic Corvette in the neighborhood at any point?”
“Coach Fowler’s car? Nope.”
Anna asked a few more questions, then thanked Tammy and wrapped up. Outside the house, Anna turned to Cooper. “Shit.”
“Yeah. But you know there’s a reasonable explanation.”
Anna nodded. But any theory that would explain everything was becoming less reasonable.
Cooper pulled a green bandanna from his pocket. “Billy got some sweet potato on you.” He wiped Anna’s cheek. His touch was gentle and surprisingly comforting.
They knocked on the next door, which opened with another warm greeting and invitation for coffee. This was a different experience than a knock-and-talk in D.C., where more doors were slammed in her face than opened. Here, she wasn’t an authority figure—she was just the sister of a neighbor. Folks invited her in, offered her danishes, wanted to chat. The challenge wasn’t getting in, but getting out.
<
br /> By one o’clock, they had covered all of Jody’s neighbors. Many gushed about how much they loved Jody. An older couple described how she shoveled their driveway whenever it snowed. A single mom said that Jody bought ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her daughter every year, then gave them away to coworkers in her lunchroom. Many people asked how they could help. No one had seen the coach coming or going. No one besides Tammy had seen or heard anything strange two nights earlier.
Their next stop was the bar. Screecher’s was Holly Grove’s favorite watering hole. On the outside, it was unremarkable, just a big section of a strip mall. Inside, it was a shrine to what the town was most proud of: its football team. The walls were covered with pennants, signed jerseys, and pictures of the teams over the years. Coach Fowler smiled from many of the pictures. He was a handsome man: golden haired, athletic, notably good looking even in middle age.
At two in the afternoon, the place was almost empty. A few men sat drinking at the dark wood bar. In the dining room, a couple ate cheese fries and watched a Tigers game on the big screen. Most of the tables were empty.
Behind the counter, a bartender ran a cloth over the polished surface. Anna immediately pegged him as Jody’s type. He was tall and ripped. Tattoos covered his arms. His nose had been broken, a few times. He looked like a great party that ended with a night in prison.
“Hey, Grady,” Cooper said.
“Hey, Coop.” The bartender’s eyes went to Anna with interest.
“I’m Anna Curtis.” She reached over the bar. “Jody’s sister.”
“I coulda guessed that.” He wiped his hand on a clean cloth and shook hers. “Grady Figler. Where’s your sister today?”
“Just hanging out.”
“Tell her I said ‘hey.’”
“I will.”
Grady went back to wiping out glasses. “What can I get you?”
“A Coke, please.” He filled up a glass and handed it to her, popping a maraschino cherry on top. She set a five on the bar. “Thanks. Actually, I was hoping to ask you some questions. About two nights ago.”
“Police beat you to it.”
Cooper glanced at the men nursing their drinks and said, “Can we have a minute with you in private?”
Grady turned to a waitress in the dining room. “Lakisha! Can you cover the bar?”
“Again?” The waitress rolled her eyes but set down a tray and came into the bar area. Grady led them to a back table.
“How do you know my sister?” Anna asked.
“I’ve seen her around. She’s hard to miss.”
“What do you mean?”
“When she comes here, she comes to be noticed. Tight, tight jeans or itty-bitty skirts. That long blond hair all curled up like she spent the day at the hairdresser. Stilettos as tall as a beer bottle. Every man in this bar saw her.”
He had to be describing someone else. Jody was a tomboy. When Jody went out with Anna, she usually wore the same clothes she’d had on all day: well-loved Levi’s and hiking boots. In the winter, she wore the same puffy red ski jacket she’d had for years. Her hair was long and blond, yes, but always tied back in a ponytail. Jody fell for bad boys but was pretty much one of the boys herself. But Anna remembered that Tammy had described her sister’s outfit the same way. Anna pulled a photo out of her purse: she and Jody hiking the Sleeping Bear Dunes last summer. She showed it to Grady.
“This woman?” she asked.
“Yeah. With a lot more eye shadow. And a Jim Beam in her hand.”
Her sister drank whiskey? Anna digested his words. Okay, so Jody partied. She was a single, twenty-five-year-old woman. She was allowed to get dressed up and go flirt in bars. Just because Anna had never seen it didn’t mean there was anything wrong with it. She wondered if Jody hid that side of herself because she didn’t want her big sister to disapprove. The idea made her sad.
“So what happened two nights ago?” Anna asked.
“What happened every time she came in. She flirted with Coach Fowler.”
“How do you mean, flirted?”
Grady pushed his chair next to Anna’s and let his knee brush hers. He put his arm around the back of her chair and gazed meaningfully into her eyes. His thumb brushed her shoulder as he said in an exaggerated singsong, “You’re funny when you ask so many questions.”
“Okay.” Cooper’s eyes narrowed. “We get it.”
Grady smiled, removed his hand, and pushed his chair back.
“Look, I don’t blame her. The coach was the closest thing we had to a celebrity. He used to come in two, three nights a week. Most every woman who stepped into my bar took a swing at him at least once.”
“How did he respond?” Anna asked.
“Everyone struck out—until Jody. That man has gotta be the most faithful husband in Michigan. Or something.”
“What do you mean, until Jody?”
“They hung out a couple times over the last few weeks. And Thursday night was completely different.”
“How so?”
“He got wasted. Sloppy drunk, like I’ve never seen him. Most nights, he could drink all night and still walk straighter than me.”
“Do you know how many drinks he had? Is there a tab?”
“No. We always comped the coach. As long as he was in here, so was everybody else.”
“Do you remember what he was drinking?”
“What he always did. Jim Beam, neat. Four, five, six in a night.”
“And you’d let him drive home after all those drinks?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He wagged his finger. “Don’t look at me. He made it home all those nights. Only night he didn’t was the night your sister drove him.”
“So what happened that night?”
“He was stumbling drunk. Could barely keep his head up. I helped her get him to the car. That was a little after ten o’clock. She drove his Corvette.”
“Did they fight or argue about anything?”
“No. They seemed very happy with each other.”
“Where were they going?”
Grady gave her a grim smile. “When a young lady and a married man leave together, I don’t ask ’em where they’re going. Let’s just say I doubt she was taking him home to his wife.”
“Did you see or hear from either of them after that?”
“Next I heard was the news that Coach’s car crashed later that night.”
“When did the police come talk to you?”
“That afternoon—yesterday.”
“Did they ask you anything I haven’t asked yet?”
“They asked if I’m willing to testify about this in court.”
“Are you?”
“Of course. I’m just a simple, law-abiding bartender.” He stood. “Gotta get back to work. Tell your sister to stop by sometime. Next round’s on me.”
• • •
At four o’clock, Anna was relieved to see Jody sitting in her Yukon parked in front of her house. Anna had been uncomfortable leaving her sister alone for the day. But what additional trouble could Jody get herself into at this point? As Cooper pulled up behind the truck, Jody got out and met them on the driveway.
“How’s it going, Sherlock?” Jody asked, as Anna climbed off Cooper’s motorcycle.
“Okay.” Anna took off her helmet and shook a hand through her hair. She looked at Jody’s face, trying to find the woman who dressed in stilettos and got into screaming fights at three A.M. She just saw her sister. “Got a new phone?”
Jody pulled a black iPhone out of her pocket and made an exaggerated Vanna White–displaying gesture.
“Nice,” Anna said.
“What’d you do with the old one?” Cooper asked.
“I just threw it out. The people at the store said it wasn’t useful after it got wet.”
“Too bad,�
�� he said. “I know a guy who could rehab it.”
“I know you love rehabbing broken stuff,” Jody said. “But some things just need to be thrown away.”
Anna wanted to ask Jody about everything she’d heard today—when they were alone. While Cooper was with them, they could check out the house.
Taped to the front door of Jody’s house was a white envelope. It held a police inventory of all the things that had been taken from the house. Anna unfolded the paper and skimmed it:
Kitchen sink (and attached pipes), toilets (2) (and attached pipes), washing machine (1) (and attached pipes), shower pan (1) (and attached pipes), pots (3), pans (2), hammer (1), shovel (1), sledgehammer (1), sports trophies (23), sheets (2), pillowcases (2), blanket (1), tool box (1) w/assorted tools (18), baseball bat (aluminum) (1), metal fish statue (1), wooden butcher’s block (1), wooden carving board (1), blender (1), white sock (1), bottle of 409 (1), bottle of Clorox bleach (1), Greenworks spray (1), box of S.O.S. scrub (1), box of Borax (1).
“You have a camera?” Anna asked. Cooper nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Jody unlocked the door. Anna stepped into the foyer and looked around.
“Christ,” she said.
13
Once upon a time, Holly Grove’s Main Street must have served the purpose of the proverbial “Main Street” that all American small towns are supposed to have. It had stopped being “main” in any sense of the word, long before we were born. By the time I was in high school, most of the buildings in the old downtown were empty and scabbed, dilapidated storefronts whose best windows were soaped over and whose worst were covered with spray-painted plywood. There was that one consignment shop, and a XXX video store. Most of the commerce was fueled by the courthouse: lawyers’ offices, bail bond shops, and stores specializing in nail files, ha ha.
Everyone’s parents talked about the Good Old Days. Back when everyone had a nine-to-five job at the auto plant and could afford a house, a lake cottage, and a little boat on that salary. It’s hard to imagine now, isn’t it? A few surviving vestiges of Main Street seemed like archaeological clues to that time: a peeling Coca-Cola mural on the side of a shuttered soda fountain, a blank theater marquee with flaking gold trim. I bet it was nice, back in the day. By 2004, Main Street had become what it still is: pre-rubble.
A Good Killing Page 6
