Free Ticket to Ride by Ed Gorman Page B

Mrs. Hearne any less of a bitch. She would have been right at home in Salem, burning witches.”
    That made me laugh. “Other than that, you like her, huh?”
    She had a quick girly smile. “Other than that, I’m crazy about her.”
    A green DeSoto convertible drove past, the male driver downright enchanted by the sight of Lynn Shanlon in her shorts. “My exhusband was like that. Everywhere we’d go, I’d have to watch him watch every girl in the place. I thought Perkins might be different. But no. You men are all lechers.” She dragged on her cigarette. “So why’re you here?”
    â€œI’d like to ask you some questions about your sister and when she was seeing Bryce Bennett.”
    â€œDoes this have anything to do with Lou being killed?”
    â€œCould have. I’m representing Harrison Doran.”
    She dropped her smoke to the grass, twisted it out with the sole of one of her red Keds. “You’ve got your hands full then. I heard Chief Sykes on the radio this morning. I’ll admit he’s an idiot sometimes, but Doran being out there at three in the morning—”
    â€œDid your sister ever tell you about any of Lou Bennett’s enemies? She must have spent some time out there.”
    â€œNot unless she had to. She was insecure enough with her leg, the way the poor kid limped. Her foot was run over by a car when she was four and it wasn’t fixed correctly. The way the Bennetts treated her didn’t exactly make her feel any better about herself.” Then: “Hey, good afternoon, Dave.” She trotted down the driveway to meet the mailman. “Are you ready for the weekend?” she said as he handed her the mail.
    â€œProbably go to the parade.”
    â€œYou’re not going to burn any Beatles records?”
    Dave laughed. “If I did, my daughters would burn me.”
    It was an afternoon of heat and lawn work and little kids cooling off with moms aiming hoses at them and teenage girls in bikinis sunning themselves on towels and hoping to put a fair number of men in mental hospitals.
    When she returned, she waved a handful of envelopes at me. “Bills. Between my job at the courthouse and my big alimony check, I can almost pay these.” Then: “My sister loved Bryce and Bryce loved her. His father forced him to break it off. Karen never got over it, and I don’t think Bryce did either.”
    â€œDid he ever try to contact her after he was married?”
    â€œI don’t know. I was living in Chicago with my ex-husband the banker. I came back here one week before the fire in her little bungalow. I think about that all the time. I was so upset over my husband divorcing me, I didn’t spend much time with her because I didn’t want to bring her down with all my whining. We’d planned on spending the whole day together sometime; drive into Cedar Rapids or Iowa City. But then she died.” The voice became despondent. “I loved her as much as she loved Bryce.”
    â€œI’m trying to remember the fire. Was there anything strange about it?”
    â€œAre you kidding? Everything about it was strange. First of all, she rarely smoked. Once in a while when she was really depressed or something, she’d puff on a few cigarettes. So that bothered me. And the fact that she didn’t wake up in time to get out. My sister was a very light sleeper. Very light.”
    â€œDid you talk about this to anybody?”
    â€œTo anybody who’d listen, including the mayor and the fire chief. They thought I was just distraught because my sister died. You know, that I was making things up.”
    â€œDid the Bennetts give you any kind of support?”
    â€œYou must be nuts. Why would they?”
    â€œWell, your sister and Bryce had gone out for quite a while.”
    â€œThe only one who paid any attention to Karen was Linda’s husband David. He was quite taken with her,