Free To Love and to Perish by Lisa Bork Page B

yearbook. Three pictures fell from it as he lifted it in the air: two of young women and one, a young man. “This is Brennan’s senior yearbook. I read all the notes his friends wrote in it. It looks like he and Monica were going steady. Her best friend was Elizabeth Potter, and his was Wayne Engle, who was also on the track team and in Torque Club. The four of them planned to go to the senior ball together. They wrote about it.” Cory whipped the book open, flipped through the pages and pointed the entries out. “See?”
    I did. “So who’s who?”
    Cory pointed to the two by three photo of a stunning blond girl with startlingly blue eyes and dimples that had fallen on my desk. “That’s Monica. The other is Elizabeth. And this is Wayne.”
    Elizabeth had dark hair teased into an incredible pouf, heavy eye shadow that made her eyes disappear, and a crooked but friendly smile. Wayne was another blond Adonis, dark eyes sparkling and a loopy, happy grin. No wonder he and Brennan were friends. He looked a little familiar, too. I wondered if we’d ever sold him a car.
    â€œDid Wayne and Elizabeth date?”
    Cory shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
    I leaned back in my executive chair, which squeaked in protest. I’d have to find the oil can later. “What do you make of Brennan going steady with Monica?”
    Cory’s smile was rueful. “I went steady with a girl in high school, too. The heterosexual pressure is pretty tough to ignore, you know.”
    I could imagine. “Not to get too personal, but were you intimate?”
    Cory burst out laughing. “I never even kissed her. All we did was hold hands. We still send each other Christmas cards every year. She has three kids now with her husband. I wished she’d been the one. She was a really nice girl.”
    I glanced over the spoils on the desk. “So you took this stuff because you’re afraid Brennan was paying Elizabeth to keep her mouth shut?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI think the statute of limitations would have run out by now, don’t you?”
    â€œThe court of popular opinion is in session every day. Brennan’s reputation and his business could be ruined by this if it’s true.”
    â€œWhy did the payments stop a year ago?”
    â€œI don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”
    Something else bothered me. I decided not to keep it to myself. “You don’t seem to have much faith in Brennan, Cory. Have you known him to be impulsive or violent?”
    He shook his head. “Never.”
    â€œThen why are you so convinced he’s guilty of something?”
    Cory rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles. “You know my track record. Mr. Right has been Mr. Wrong every time. I don’t have that much confidence in my judgment anymore.”
    â€œWhat about Brennan? What do you really think of him?”
    A wistful expression crossed Cory’s face. “I’m afraid he’s too good to be true.”
    _____
    I contemplated Cory’s statements the rest of the day and into the evening, so much so that I failed to pay attention to my pot of chili on the stove, heating it to the point where the smoke alarms went off in the house. Danny proved quite adept at removing the batteries to kill the noise. We must have aired the house out enough before Ray got home because he didn’t comment on any lingering burnt smell. I skimmed the top of the pot to serve with cornbread. No one complained.
    But keeping Cory’s confidence proved challenging. Ray asked me if I’d talked with Cory and gotten him under control. I said, “yes” but really thought “no.” Cory had asked me to help him look into the thirteen-year-old accident, believing it would offer insights into Gleason’s death. It seemed possible. And I wanted to help. I wanted to know the truth about the accident and the huge