Burning September by Melissa Simonson Page B

lessons and when she taught me how to cook things from old recipes.  You can tell English wasn’t her first language, huh, she’d say, handing me the yellowed index card and bumping my shoulder with hers.  But ain’t that penmanship gorgeous. 
     
    “So I don’t know what you’re looking for from me.  If you want to know about our mother, you’ll have to ask Caroline. She actually knew her.”
    He didn’t say anything for a while, just took a slow sip of beer, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other.  “She slit her wrists?”
    “That’s what I’m told.”
    “Caroline did the same thing.”
    “Well, I guess she learned how pretty early on.”
    “So she’s depressed like your mother was, that’s why she did it?  She decided to abandon her little sister, the one who needs her, who she’s moved heaven and earth in the past to care for and teach and love and protect?  She went against everything she’d ever done in the past to up and try to kill herself?  It doesn’t gel, Katya.  That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.” I didn’t have a ready answer, and he seemed to have expected it.  “So if I look at all her past behavior, I have to conclude that she didn’t do it because she wanted to die.  And people who attempt suicide without really wanting to die do it for attention, a cry for help, or manipulation.” He flicked his index finger against his thumb.  “None are optimal explanations.”
    “Maybe she felt hopeless.  Like the deck was stacked against her.”
    “Maybe she was banking on the fact that your mother committed suicide the same way, and it’d draw sympathy.” 
    “I guess anyone trying to find the worst in someone would think that way.”
    “That’s how a prosecutor will spin it.  They’re going to say she killed Brian because of jealousy and hatred, and she attempted suicide to get sympathy, or her family history of instability and self-harm got the ball rolling.  I’d like to know your thoughts on this, because I took one look at Caroline and knew she’d try to play me.  I figured you were less likely to.  If you want to help her, you need to help me.”
    “How would she try to play you?”  He’d only seen her for ten seconds, according to Caroline.  That’s not even enough time to decide what you want for lunch.
    Kyle looked back at the bar, running a finger down his sweating beer glass.  “You’ve had to have seen her in action before.  Look, I’m not saying she’s a horrible wretch.  She gave up half her life to take care of you; that takes a special kind of person.  But you’ve got to admit she’d turn up the charm if I sat down with her like I am with you.  She’d use her looks and anything else to try to wrap me around her finger.”
    I fell back into the booth as the Lady in Red led out a particularly loud cackle.  Yes, Caroline would have tried charming Kyle in a heartbeat.  Why wouldn’t she?  It worked every time, without fail. 
    “Fine.  Yeah, probably.  I think she would have tried.  But you have to look at it from her point of view.  Not that she’s spoiled or anything, but she’s never had a problem with men.  It’s hard for me to blame her in that respect.  Sometimes I think she can’t help it.”
    “Trust me, she can help it.”  He pulled his briefcase closer and unsnapped the clasps.  “Well, I requested AT&T records, and they’ve gotten back to me pretty quickly.  If the police were hoping for some damning new information, they’re going to be surprised.”  He fished a stapled packet of papers out, uncapped a highlighter with his teeth, and ran a yellow line over a few chunks of text.  “On the date in question, her phone pinged off the same towers yours did, which proves both cells were in your place at the time of the fire.  It’s not firm proof of her innocence, but it helps her out in the long run.”
    I didn’t bother telling him Caroline really had no use for much technology and often