talked to her.â
âYou do?â Jay feels the panic again, and he has a sudden thought of Jimmyâs cousin, the boatâs captain. Itâs the first time Jay has considered him since the night of the boat ride. And it now occurs to him that the old man might have seen the same blurb in the paper and gone straight to the police. Heâs so caught up in what that might mean for him, wondering if the cops already have his name, that he almost misses the next words out of the groundskeeperâs mouth.
âDudeâs pants were coming down,â the man says.
âWhat?â Jay asks, not immediately comprehending.
âThe dead man,â the groundskeeper says. âThe belt, the flyâ¦his pants was wide open. The cops was all over it. And they was taking pictures of the ground over there.â He points to the dirt and grass where Jay is standing. âThere were footprints, real small-like, you know, like a ladyâs shoe.â Jay remembers the womanâs bare feet on the boat, her missing earring too. âBut we donât really know it was a woman,â the groundskeeper says. We, like heâs in on the investigation, like he and the cops are working this one together. âWe donât know what that man was into. Hell, when I seen him, he was wearing leather in August, had on gloves up to here,â he says, demonstrating high on his forearms. âAinât no telling what kind of freaky shit was going on. That mighta been why he was hiding out here in the first place.â He lowers his voice, speaking the seemingly impossible. âI mean, it coulda been a dude he was with.â
The groundskeeper helps himself to another Carlton. âNow ainât that some shit,â he says. His expression has cooled somewhat, and he seems to have turned his investigative gaze on Jay, taking a second look at Jayâs soiled clothes and his missing shoe, seemingly calling his whole presence at the crime scene into question. Jay doesnât like the way the man is looking at him, or what he thinks the man may be insinuating. It would be ridiculous, the idea of Jay being in any way involved in a murder, if it werenât soâ¦plausible. Even a rookie cop knows that more times than not, the perpetrator returns to the scene of his crime.
âYou with the Chronicle or the Post ?â the groundskeeper asks.
âI freelance,â Jay answers, a little too quickly.
âMaybe I could get your name, in case I remember something else.â
The smirk is faint, but impossible to ignore.
The groundskeeper stares at Jay, waiting for an answer.
âErnest Pennebakerâ is the first ridiculous name out of Jayâs mouth. He delivers it as convincingly as a practiced closing argument, thanking the man for his time and reaching for his car keys. He nods good night as he slides into his front seat. Through the dusty windshield, the groundskeeper watches him, the Skylarkâs headlights carving deep shadows beneath the manâs suspicious eyes. Jay throws his car into reverse, driving faster than he should, churning up reddish brown dirt across his rear window, creating a blinding haze of smoke.
He rolls up his window and turns on the radio, trying to shut out the noise in his head. The box is set to 1430 AM, black radio. Theyâre in the middle of another hour of Confessions . Wash Allen is talking to a woman, a caller whoâs sleeping with a married man, has been for years. Sheâs wondering if heâll ever leave his wife, and if he doesnât, where in the world will that leave her? The show is call-and-response, a rhythm borrowed from blues or the church, where black people come to lay down their problems. The callers have on-air names like CB handles. âThis is Storminâ Norman callingâ¦â âYeah, Wash, this is your girl Sunshineâ¦â âDark ânâ Lovely here, Wash, and I got something to sayâ¦â
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes