by Thom Whalen
* * *
The only person around who knew anything about Billy was Gwen. She was his widow, after all. So we started with her.
When we arrived at her house, she was getting her kids, Will and Barb, ready for school. It wasn’t much work. Will was in ninth grade and Barb in seventh, so they mostly got themselves ready.
We had to wait until they were out of the house before Gwen could talk about anything important.
Finally, Barb kissed her on the cheek and raced out the door.
“Okay,” Gwen said, “what do you want to know?”
“Who were Billy’s friends?” I asked.
“I don’t know if he had any. Until he showed up here a few days ago, I hadn’t seen him for nearly ten years. Ten lovely years, I might add.”
“Where did he live for those years before showing up here?”
“We didn’t discuss that. We didn’t discuss anything. He could have been living anywhere from Nome to Tucumcari for all I know. Maybe he wasn’t living anywhere. Maybe he spent the last ten years sleeping in vacant buildings. For all I care, he could have crawled under a rock somewhere.”
“What about his parents?” Randal asked.
“What about them?”
“He have parents?”
“Everybody has parents.”
“You know who they are?”
“Yeah. They were at our wedding.”
“You seen them since then?”
“They send the kids birthday cards every year. Christmas presents, too. They keep saying that they want to see the kids but I don’t want them to know where I am because they might tell Billy.”
That wouldn’t be a problem now that Billy was dead. Maybe she’d give the grandparents a break.
“If they don’t know where you are, how do they send the cards and presents?” I asked
“They send them to my folks. My folks send them on to me. I make the kids write thank-you notes. We send them back the same way. From my parents’ house. No return address.”
That all sounded very cloak-and-dagger. “Was all that necessary?” I asked.
They both looked at me like I’d said something foolish. I remembered Gwen’s black eye and realized that I had.
“But you make the kids send thank-you notes,” I said.
“That’s for the kids’ sakes, not for Billy’s parents’. That’s how Will and Barb learn to be polite.”
“Do you know where his parents live?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll need their address.”
“Okay. But you don’t tell them where I live. You got that?”
“Yeah.”
“Because they’re going to ask. You can make book on that.”
“I got it,” I said. She wasn’t going to give them a break, even if their son was dead and gone.
I waited while she wrote the address down on a piece of paper. She gave it to Randal.
“Does he have any brothers and sisters?” I asked.
“He’s got a mess of them. They’re scattered all over. I don’t know their addresses. I don’t even remember most of their names. Only a couple of them bothered coming to our wedding, and that was too many.”
Billy’s parents would know. I wondered how much they would tell us.
I looked at Randal to see if he had anything more to add.
He did.
“Have the police questioned you yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. You think they will?”
“I’m sure of it. As soon as they figure out that you’re Billy’s wife. Sooner or later, they’re going to start asking who Billy knew in Wemsley. Marriages are public records. I’m surprised that they haven’t been here already.”
“What do I say when they come here and start asking questions?”
“Tell them the truth. You don’t have to volunteer anything, but if they ask you a direct question, don’t lie and don’t try to hide anything. Just come out and say what you know and let the chips fall where they may.”
“Anything that I say is going to make you look bad.”
“Don’t worry about that. I can take the heat. You just make sure that you don’t make yourself look like an accomplice. Phil and me are going to find a way to prove that I had nothing to do with Billy’s death. We don’t want to have to prove that you’re innocent, too. You should never be in the picture that Albertson is painting in his head.”
“I was his wife. Aren’t I going to be the number one suspect?”
“I don’t think so,” Randal said. “The way Billy was killed wasn’t the way a woman would do it. A jury would never believe it.”
“I’m scared, anyway,” she said.
“You’re going to be all right,” Randal said. He looked as calm as a pond on a still day. But he was deep water. There was a lot more going under that smooth surface than I could guess.
Things that would scare me to death, I was sure.
