Free Tangled Thing Called Love by Juliet Rosetti Page A

now—how’s about we start with Fawn’s bedroom?”
    “Great,” Ben said. “Just give me a sec to go out and get my camera.”
    He went out to the car while Mazie followed Gil down a narrow hallway and into a bedroom barely large enough to contain a twin bed and a dresser.
    “I never changed a thing. All ready for Fawn when she comes back.” Gil picked up a photo that sat atop the dresser, wiped off dust with his sleeve, and handed it to Mazie. It was a ten-by-twelve in a silver frame and must have been taken the night Fawn was crowned, because she was wearing a long pink gown with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves. The Miss Quail Hollow 2001 sash was draped across her chest and she was holding a huge bouquet of red roses. The tiara was a circlet of intertwined rhinestone hearts with a tiny jeweled bird on top—a quail.
    The tiara had traditionally passed down to the new queen each year, but when Fawn had disappeared, the tiara had vanished too, replaced by a new, cheaper model. Studying the photo, Mazie saw how apt the name Fawn was. She had wide-set doe eyes framed by long, black lashes and an alert, slightly wary look, as though she was always on the lookout for predators. If Fawn was still alive, she would be a beautiful woman.
    “Fawn made that dress.” Gil pointed to the gown, moving so close to Mazie she could smell his breath. “Ran it up on her ma’s old sewing machine, ’cause I didn’t have no money for fancy store-bought dresses.”
    Ben returned with his camera. He took a still shot of Fawn’s photo, then started videotaping the room, starting with the posters above her bed: Spice Girls, Nirvana, Backstreet Boys, Limp Bizkit, and half a dozen others.
    “How old was Fawn when her mom died?” Mazie asked.
    “Fourteen,” Gil growled. “It all come on real sudden. One day Danielle—that’s my wife—started complaining about her belly aching. Wouldn’t go see a doctor—she was scared of doctors—kept putting it off until the pain got so bad she collapsed. I drove her to the emergency room. The docs said it was a ruptured appendix and operated on her right away, but her insides got all infected. She went into cardiac arrest and died.”
    “I’m so sorry,” Mazie said.
    “Yeah. It was rough. Fawn took over, though—she was like a little mother to the three boys. Cooked their meals, got ’em off to school on time, stayed home with ’em if they was sick.”
    Gil shoved open the door of a cardboard wardrobe. “That’s all her stuff in there. Hung up on hangers all neat. Fawn couldn’t stand to see a mess.”
    Feeling like a gawker at a traffic crash, Mazie surveyed the outfits—a museum of the millennium. Baby-doll tops, cargo pants, denim jackets, peasant skirts, and off-the-shoulders tops. “Did the police check through her things?” she asked.
    Gil gave a bark of laughter. “You bet your sweet tushy. Went over this place with a fine-tooth comb, looking for bloodstains and what-all. In case you weren’t aware of it, the Fanchons don’t exactly have good reputations roundabouts here. Seeing as how we live out in the country, the county sheriff’s department handled it, but on account of Fawn last being seen in Quail Hollow the police had their noses in it too.”
    He fingered a plastic lei draped across Fawn’s dresser mirror. “Know what still bothers me? I didn’t go to see Fawnie in the pageant. I meant to. But I stopped in at the Pirate’s Den after work. Planned to get on home, pick up the boys, and take ’em over to watch Fawn up on that stage. It got to be ten o’clock, eleven—then it was too late. The bartender took away my car keys, but I had an extra key so I drove home, fell into bed with my clothes on. I didn’t even know Fawn didn’t come home that night until the boys woke me up, wanting their breakfasts, whining for their sister.”
    It was heartbreaking. A lump came to Mazie’s throat and tears stung her eyes at the thought of those little boys