We never went to Main Street. We went to Meijer.
Meijer wasn’t just a store—it was every store. You could get groceries and guinea pigs, lawnmowers and live plants, chainsaws, rifles, bulk candy and eye shadow. It stretched forever, one boxy story sprawling so far they advertised it as “Meijer’s Thrifty Acres!” Meijer was Holly Grove’s Main Street, the place where everyone met and swapped stories about the crazy snowstorm or latest round of jobs that went overseas. You drove there knowing you’d see your neighbors. You put on a little lipgloss before you got out of the car.
One day, about a month after Homecoming, I was hanging out there with Jenny, Kathy, and Kathy’s two-year-old girl, Hayley. We were looking for hair paint to streak our hair blue for the Friday night football game. Outside, it was a cold November afternoon, grayed by a low winter sun and seasoned with coarse salt on the ground. Inside, it was bright and warm and full of distractions made in China.
To pass the time, we were trying on hats, not the kind we would actually buy, but the kind that made each other laugh. Kathy put on a huge straw one with plastic fruit all over the brim and became the Queen of England. She waved the cupped-hand royal greeting at passing shoppers. “Ma-ma,” said Hayley. “Gapes. Nummy.” The baby tried to grab the plastic grapes from the hat, smacking her little lips with anticipation. God, she was a cute kid. Like a miniature Snow White: jet-black hair, green eyes, and roses in her cheeks.
Kathy herself didn’t look so great. She put all her energy into that little girl, and not much was left for herself. Her dark hair was listless and frayed, and she hadn’t lost all the baby weight. She looked thirty, though she was only seventeen. She’d lived a lot in those last two years, and the living wasn’t easy.
Kathy and that worthless husband of hers rented in the trailer park, always a few weeks behind in their payments. Her husband cemented driveways, but not often enough. She’d gone through a few menial jobs by then and tried to study for her GED when Hayley was sleeping. She was exhausted to a degree I’d never seen in any other teenager. But she doted on that little girl. Said it was all worth it because she got her.
She patted her daughter’s head and said we’d go to the grocery section to buy her some real grapes. Kathy kept the hat on and continued to be the Queen as we pushed the cart down the toilet paper aisle, using a snooty voice to describe the absorbency necessary for royal arses. We were laughing until we turned a corner.
Wendy Weiscowicz was there with her mother, beaming a scanning gun at an infant car seat. When they saw us, Wendy’s mother had the good sense to look embarrassed, but Wendy smiled broadly. She was barely showing then—she must’ve been about three or four months along—but she already wore a maternity shirt. When she saw me, she smoothed down the front, so I could see the little round bump on her previously concave stomach.
Only Wendy could be proud to be registering for baby items a week after getting married. Seeing her gut hit me in mine. A baby is way more permanent than a marriage.
At least I understood why Coach married her. I imagined she’d tricked him into it, claiming to be on some sort of birth control that she wasn’t. I felt sorry for him. Wendy was so manipulative and selfish; his life was going to be pure misery. Of course, I didn’t say that.
I said, “Hi, Mrs. Weiscowicz.”
Wendy’s mom was a nice lady. After Dad left, Mrs. Weiscowicz was one of the women who brought Mom casseroles. Mrs. Weiscowicz’s tuna noodle was the best in town—she didn’t skimp on the potato chips on top. I felt a pang of guilt. For what it’s worth, I had no idea Wendy was pregnant when we got into it at the Homecoming game.
Mrs. Weiscowicz smiled and launched into nice-midwestern-mom small talk, asking after our families and cooing over little Hayley. When there was a pause, Kathy looked pointedly at Wendy’s stomach.
“So how are you, Wendy?”
“I couldn’t be better,” Wendy trilled. “Married life suits me.”
She held out her hand and waved her diamond ring under our noses. The other girls said ooh! and wow! and congratulations! It struck me that I didn’t know a single person who’d been invited to the wedding—and that was the sort of thing you’d hear about in Holly Grove.
“Was it a big wedding?” I asked sweetly. “Did everyone throw rice?”
Wendy’s smile dimmed. She probably started planning the color of her bridesmaids’ dresses around the time she entered kindergarten. Instead, she got a quickie shotgun wedding at the courthouse. But she had a talent for putting on a good face. She turned her smile back up to its full wattage so quickly, most people might have missed the flicker. “Oh no.” Wendy flashed her ring casually in the air. “Owen and I didn’t need a big silly deal. We’re just so in love, we couldn’t wait for our lives together to get started.”
I had never heard anyone call Coach Fowler by his first name. I’m not sure I even knew his first name before that moment.
“Looks like you got started right quick,” I said, nodding at the infant car seat.
She refused to be shamed. “Yes. A big family was always part of our long-term plan. We are blessed. Owen is so excited. He’s home right now, painting the baby’s room.” She looked right at me. “Have you ever been to his house, Jody?”
I had to admit that I hadn’t. She looked happy.
“Well, you’ll have to come over some time,” she said, sweet as apple pie laced with arsenic. “It’s just gorgeous. I’m having a hard time getting used to so much space.”
Thankfully, Hayley started fussing for grapes again. We said our good-byes and escaped to the produce section.
We held our tongues until we finished shopping and were in the privacy of Kathy’s old Dodge Ram in the parking lot. Jenny called shotgun, so I sat in the back, where Hayley was bundled into the car seat. The little girl’s face was the only part of her visible under her puffy purple jacket and hood. I popped grapes into her rosebud mouth while the car warmed up.
Kathy looked back at me, grinning mischievously. “Should we go see the house? Wendy said we really must swing by.”
Kathy didn’t get out much those days. But then again, neither did I. There was nothing else to do that night. I giggled and pulled out my cell phone. None of us had GPS back then, but 411 did the trick. We found out the address, looked at a map, and headed there.
It was a corner of the county I hadn’t seen before, not too far out of the town proper, but far enough to be away from riffraff like us. We turned onto a long smooth road lined with big new houses. The sky was black by then, but many of the houses had spotlights pointed at their façades, making them shine like palaces. Coach’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was three stories tall and made of light pink brick with black shutters. It looked like what I imaged a French château would look like, if they built châteaus in the 1990s. It took my breath away.
By that point, Mom had moved us out of Great-Aunt Bessie’s house and into the apartment. It seemed like such a luxury just having our own place: a bathroom where we didn’t have to compete for counter space with Bessie’s Preparation H. Our own fridge, which didn’t smell like onions. Control over the remote!
But this was a different world. Even for Wendy Weiscowicz, whose parents were doing pretty well, this was a big step up. To me, it seemed impossible.
Wendy had it all—the mansion, the coach, a cherished baby on the way, parents who were still together and had time to shop with her. I felt nauseous. Envy can be worse than the flu.
“Look at that.” Kathy pointed at two deer statues on Coach’s lawn. “Shall we?”
I smiled, Jenny laughed, and we all opened our doors.
“Ma-ma!” Hayley squeaked from her car seat.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Kathy said softly. She reached back and handed the girl a couple grapes. “Be right back, baby doll.”
We crept through the chill night air onto the lawn, the so
d squishing under our shoes. The deer were surprisingly heavy. It took all three of us using all our strength to push one over. It fell with a quiet thump on the lawn. Then we pushed the other. It tipped and clunked onto its buddy. We muffled our laughs and waited for something to happen. But the neighborhood was still. No one came to a door to yell at us. No more lights went on in Coach’s house. We stood there, breathing clouds into the night. We piled back into the car, quiet with the anticlimax.
“Dee go boom!” Hayley said, pointing a chubby finger at the fallen statues. At least that made us laugh.
“You’re right, lovey, the deer fell down and went boom,” Kathy said, patting the girl’s leg. “Don’t worry, they’re just taking a little nap.”
She turned on the ignition and flipped the radio to 95.5, where Sheryl Crow informed us that the first cut is the deepest. As we pulled off, Kathy lit a cigarette, cracked her window, and blew the smoke out into the black world. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror.
“Wanna buy some lottery tickets?”
“Sure.”
We stopped by the 7-Eleven and got some scratch-offs and a couple Powerballs. No one won.
14
Anna remembered when Jody bought her house, three years ago—she’d been so proud. Jody worked on the line at GM for years, scrimping and saving for a down payment. The white rancher was the first big thing that was truly Jody’s. She took ownership of it in every sense, not just buying it, but using creativity and elbow grease to make it hers. Jody hand-painted the walls of every room a different color. She bought a pretty tile backsplash that she installed—herself—in the kitchen. She pored over furniture sales and decorated every room to be cheerful, modern, and bright. And she spent hours at Home Depot’s weekend classes, learning how to do home improvement and minor repairs. Jody’s home was the ultimate expression of her independence, creativity, and competence. She kept it beautifully.
After the search warrant, Jody’s house was chaos.
Anna, Jody, and Cooper walked from room to room surveying the damage. Large patches had been razored out of the carpet and couch. Bits of fluff poked out from the sofa cushions and drifted up from the carpet as Anna walked through. Chunks of drywall had been cut out from walls. Papers were piled on the floor, and utensils and dishes sat on the kitchen table. Jody’s collection of mystery novels was piled against a wall. In the kitchen, there was a hole where the sink used to be. The pipes beneath it were gone, too. In the bathrooms, only porcelain footprints remained where the toilet seats once lived. The entire bottom portion of Jody’s shower was gone, as were the pipes under it.
The house was also dirtier than Anna had ever seen it. Unlike dinner guests, the police did not ask Jody whether they should take off their shoes. Soil was tracked all over the beige carpeting. Black fingerprint dust covered the counters, walls, and appliances. Tears welled up in Jody’s eyes as she walked around.
Jody and Cooper walked around the house, taking pictures and noting what was gone. Anna checked the missing items against the police list. They matched up. While the place was a mess, the police hadn’t done anything illegal. Rob Gargaron and his officers had simply done their jobs.
Anna followed Jody into her spare bedroom, where Jody was relieved to find her computer still sitting on the collapsible card table. It was a bulky desktop computer, which she’d had forever. Jody turned it on; it was still working.
“I need a cigarette,” Jody said.
“I thought you were trying to quit,” Anna said. “Again.”
“Sometimes I just have one if I’m stressed out. I think this qualifies.”
Jody walked out to her back porch. Anna sat next to her for company. Jody lit up and inhaled deeply, then turned to blow the smoke away from Anna.
“Jack called me today,” Jody said. “He wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh.” Anna’s heart hitched. “Did he say anything else?”
Jody ashed into a plastic cup half filled with soil. Not owning an ashtray was Jody’s way of pretending she wasn’t really a smoker.
“I’m supposed to tell you he loves you.”
Anna nodded. She knew he loved her. It didn’t change things. Jody reached over and ruffled her hair. Anna tried to give her a smile.
The plumber arrived at 4:15 and looked around. He whistled when he saw all the missing fixtures. “What’d you have, a police raid here?” he joked.
“Yeah,” Jody said.
He told her that she could buy the sink, toilets, and shower pan herself, or he could sell them to her, but going through him would be more expensive. She said she’d buy the stuff herself, and the plumber arranged to come back in two days. When he left, Jody turned to Cooper.
“Can I borrow your pickup truck?” she said. “I guess I need a trip to Home Depot. A big one.”
“I don’t know. Can you drive as well as De’Andre and Lamar?”
Jody laughed. “Yes. Thanks.”
“And can we stay at your house a few more nights?” Anna asked.
“Of course.”
They were all hungry and tired. There was no usable food left in Jody’s fridge. They decided to clean up tomorrow. Anna climbed into the passenger seat of Jody’s Yukon. They drove back to Cooper’s house.
On the console sat a pile of Internet printouts from the local library and cut-out newspaper clippings. Jody had done what Anna asked this morning, cutting out today’s articles about the coach. Anna looked at the first clipping. The headline from the Detroit Free Press announced, “Owen Fowler Dead at Age 50.” Anna read as Jody drove.
A legend in Michigan football, Coach Owen Fowler died early Wednesday morning in a single-car accident. Police are investigating the circumstances of the crash.
Fowler was one of the most successful high school football coaches in the state of Michigan. He led the Holly Grove football team to six state titles in twenty-five years. Several of his players went on to earn college scholarships, with dozens eventually playing in the NFL. In 2008, Fowler famously turned down a job offer to coach at the University of Michigan, noting “My place is here in Holly Grove.”
Fowler is survived by his wife, Wendy, and their ten-year-old daughter, Isabel. A public memorial service will be held Sunday at 2:00 P.M. at the family’s residence in Sanilac County. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the Owen P. Fowler Athletic Scholarship Fund.
“There’s going to be a memorial service,” Anna said. “Open to the public. We should go.”
“No,” Jody said. “We shouldn’t.”
“There could be a lot of good information there.”
“Anna. I was having an affair with him. Anyone who didn’t know before certainly knows by now. I can’t go to his memorial service and give condolences to his grieving widow.”
“But I can.”
Jody sighed. “Okay. But don’t call me if she punches you in the face. So who’d you talk to today?”
Anna told her about the day. Jody was particularly interested when Anna mentioned the bartender at Screecher’s.
“What did Grady say?” Jody asked.
“He said you’ve been hanging out, flirting with the coach.”
“Did he seem mad when he said that?”
“He seemed like a smart-ass who wouldn’t let anyone know if he was mad. Why would he be mad anyway?”
“We once had a little flirtation ourselves.”
Of course. She’d pegged him as Jody’s type.
“Are you seeing him?”
“No.”
“Jo, when did you start hanging out at Screecher’s? In stilettos and tiny skirts?”
“There’s not that much to do here.”
“There’s never been much to do here.”
Jody shrugged. Anna couldn’t tell much from her sister’s profile.
“I also talked
to your neighbors,” Anna said. “Tammy said she heard you screaming in the middle of the night.”
Jody turned, her eyes wide. The pickup truck in front of her stopped for a red light, and they nearly drove into it. “Jo!” Anna cried. Jody braked sharply, sending Anna and the newspaper clippings flying forward. The brakes screeched as they skidded to a halt, inches from the truck in front of them.
“Jody, what the hell is going on?”
Jody stared at the road. The light turned green, and she kept driving, keeping her eyes ahead.
“Tammy’s wrong,” Jody said to the windshield. “I wasn’t yelling. Maybe she just heard the TV. I watched Game of Thrones after Owen left.”
“Really?” Anna said. “I can probably access your HBO GO account and find out. So can the prosecutor.”
“Hm. I’m not sure.”
“Did you get in a fight with him, Jo? Did he touch you? If he hit you and you did something to fend him off, we’d have a self-defense claim.”
“Jesus, Anna. Who do you think I am? What do you think I’m capable of?”
Anna stared at her sister. She wasn’t sure.
15
The night that changed everything came a couple weeks before the 2004 football state finals. The regular season was over, and the Bulldogs had won the playoffs and were gearing up for the Division 1 championship game, which would take place in Ford Field on December eighteenth. It was all anyone could talk about. Holly Grove High banners hung on every house. People tied blue ribbons around their trees and decorated their cars in blue and white washable paint. The cheerleaders toilet-papered all the football players’ houses. The town was football obsessed in any year, but it went nuts when a state title was in play.
December was always big party season, too. With the regular football games over, and the weather turning cold, there wasn’t much to do on Friday nights except go to keggers when someone’s folks were out of town.
A Good Killing Page 7
