Free Mother Finds a Body by Gypsy Rose Lee

trouble. Just because her trouble had become my trouble was no reason for me to get angry with her.
    â€œLook, honey,” I said. “Tell the cops the whole story just like you told me. When they know who he was and what he was, they’ll probably pin a medal on you for killing him.”
    Gee Gee pushed me away from her. “But I didn’t!” she said hoarsely. “That’s why I was afraid to tell anybody his body was in the trailer. I knew they’d think I done it and, so help me, I haven’t seen him since that night backstage.”
    I believed her.
    We smoked for a moment longer. Then Gee Gee tossed her cigarette into a fire bucket near the telephone. There was water in the bucket and when the cigarette fell it made a sizzling little noise. There was another sound, though. The sound of someone walking away. I jumped up and ran to the door. It was ajar. I threw it open and looked out. No one was there.
    â€œWhat was it?” Gee Gee asked listlessly.
    â€œNothing,” I said. “I just thought I heard someone. Must have been the breeze.”
    Gee Gee didn’t question me. We hadn’t felt a breeze in a week, but her mind was too occupied to think about that.
    â€œYou think the cops will believe me?” Gee Gee asked.
    I thought for a moment. I tried to remember the sheriff’s expression as he listened to Biff and me. When I did, it wasn’t a reassuring picture. I wondered what he would say when he knew that Gee Gee could identify the first corpse, not as a longshoreman, but as a dope peddler. Then I decided on something.
    â€œLook,” I said to Gee Gee. “The sheriff thinks we know the guy you call Gus. We knew him as George; he was our best man. If you go to him now and say it isn’t George, it’s Gus, the sheriff might think something funny is going on. I don’t think anybody could tell who the second corpse is, so we don’t have to worry about him, why let yourself in for something?”
    Gee Gee listened closely. Her head was nodding up and down like one of those counterbalanced doll’s heads. Her mouth twitched spasmodically.
    â€œThink you have enough nerve to keep it to yourself?” I asked.
    â€œGee, Gyp, I don’t know . . . I don’t know . . .”
    â€œPromise me one thing,” I said. I walked over to her and tipped her chin so I could look into her eyes. “If you feel like you’re getting ready to spill it, let Biff or me know first. Promise?”
    Gee Gee grabbed my hand. “I promise,” she said.
    â€œCome on. Let’s get ourselves a drink. I’ll buy.”
    Gee Gee got to her feet. She leaned heavily on my arm as we walked toward the trailer. Trailerites were sitting under their awnings having early dinner, and as we passed them they waved good evening to us.
    â€œSome excitement, eh?” one of them shouted with a grin from ear to ear.
    â€œYes, sir,” I shouted back. That trailerite didn’t know what excitement was. If he thought a brush fire was excitement, what would he call our two corpses?
    Women in slacks and shorts were making the early evening rounds. Children were just warming up for their after-dinner screaming. Here and there a man was washing up at a basin.
    It was hard for me to believe that people living in such a close community could be unaware of the two murders.
    Our trailer was parked farther away from the center of activity. As Gee Gee and I approached it, Mother closed the bedroom door and started down the steps. She carried a small, carelessly wrapped package in her hand. When I called out to her, she slipped it into her apron pocket.
    â€œWhy hello,” she said gaily. “Where have you been?”
    Gee Gee flopped down into one of the camp chairs; she let her head sink in her hands.
    Mother stared at her for a moment. Then she turned to me.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” she asked. “You look awful. Why don’t you