Free Raveled by Anne McAneny

anyone.”
    “Sure, I understand. It’s just that talking about this is so…”
    “Uncomfortable?”
    “More than that,” he said. “It’s surreal. I’ve thought about it so much over the years that it’s started to take on this ethereal quality, like a horrible fairy tale from childhood. Maybe I’ve tried to convince myself it didn’t happen.”
    “We all find a way to deal.”
    He looked into my hard expression and knew I’d found mine. I gave it one last shot. “Is there anything you can tell me, anything at all, that might shed new light on that night?”
    “I’m sorry, Allison. I really am. But maybe being back here this week, something will strike a chord. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”
    An exit line if I ever heard one. More small talk followed about his cousin’s wedding and the demands of his business. Then came the empty promise to keep in touch. It wouldn’t happen. Not even via social media. Seriously, what could he tweet? Great fun tossing around murder theories with Allison Fennimore yesterday! He’d have enough characters left over to mention how ethereal it all was.
    At least I’d learned something. Enzo felt guilty about getting my dad smashed that night; he had lied to the police; and, he’d most likely just lied to me—about something, even if only by omission.
    A fter he paid and we headed out the door, I turned with one last thought. “Hey Enzo, you should invent some stickers that don’t curl up. You know, for windshields.”
    “You mean to tell people when to get their oil changed again?”
    “Exactly. You’d be amazed what people will do when they’re reminded of things.”
    He nodded, then lowered his head and walked off.

Chapter 8
     
    Allison… present
     
    The phone rang at my mother’s house at 3:02 p.m., four minutes after I’d returned from my late lunch with Enzo. Had to give Drywaters credit for punctuality.
    I answered the phone, knowing who it was. ”Hey Kevin, ‘sup?”
    “ Allison, how’s it going? Any updates? I don’t have long.”
    “Here, chat with Mom first. I can always e-mail you.”
    “Is she good today? She gonna know who I am?”
    “ She just woke up from a nap. I’m not sure.”
    I handed the phone to my mother, who was standing next to me humming an indistinct melody during my chat. Her calm demeanor told me one thing: she wouldn’t know who Kevin was. Probably better for both of them. But she’d enjoy the ending, when he said, “I love you.” I’d taught him to leave off the mom at the end of that sentiment so she could turn him into whomever she wanted, maybe even her son.
    “I love you, too,” she said after a brief conversation. She smiled from somewhere far away and handed the phone back to me before shuffling over to another corner of the kitchen.
    “Guess who I talked to today?” I said into the phone.
    “ No time for guessing games, Alley Cat. Hit me with the 4-1-1.”
    “ Stay up to date, Kevin. No one says 4-1-1 anymore.”
    He sighed, his tolerance filled with the weird love we had for each other.
    “ Enzo Rodriguez.”
    “ Excellent. You know, I still blame him for half the shit that went down that night. Breaking out that gut-eating, corrosive garbage that his squirrelly uncle brewed.”
    “ Might have been more squirrelly than you knew,” I said, picturing the faceless chipmunks. “Anyway, you were right. He’s in town for his cousin’s wedding. In fact, he’s staying all week to help get his aunt set up in a new business venture.”
    “He have anything new to add? I really think he might be key since he ’s the only one with any memory of that night.”
    “He seemed guarded when we talked. The only lie I know of was in your favor. He didn’t tell the police that you and Dad joked about getting revenge on Bobby.”
    “ That’s good, I guess. He thought Bobby was a jerk, too. But you can be sure he lied for some reason of his own, like everyone else. What about Smitty or even