Down Don't Bother Me (9780062362209) by Jason Miller Page A

thinking I was unhappy with Guy, for one reason or another. Deeply unhappy. Maybe you think he was having affairs. Maybe you think I was. Or both of us. Maybe he drank or knocked me around or just called me a cunt once too often or whatever. Anyway, you’re thinking that maybe I had an affair with Dwayne and that Guy found out about it and killed him.”
    I said, “I admit the possibility crossed my mind. But my guess is that’s usually how these things turn out. The simplest solution is usually the right one.”
    â€œI honestly don’t know,” she said. “I’m not interested in murder.”
    â€œI’m not, either. Tell me about Dwayne Mays.”
    She nodded her head. “I wondered when you’d get to that, but frankly there’s not much to say. He and Guy came up together and went to school together. State school, nothing fancy. Neither of them could ever afford fancy. Dwayne’s parents had a farm out near Union City, I think, and Guy’s family never had two nickels to rub together. I went away to better schools but came back in time to be a kid with them. They were thick as thieves, but rivals, too, in that way men have. I learned to dislike Dwayne over time, the way he was always getting Guy into trouble, but Guy never saw it. Or wouldn’t. Later, they worked together. Dwayne was rambunctious, egotistical, eternally horny, fanatically dedicated to his work, and principled to a fault.”
    â€œYou’ve had time to think about this.”
    â€œI’ve thought about it,” she said.
    â€œLet’s talk some more about the eternally horny thing.”
    â€œFor . . . for men. Dwayne was gay.”
    â€œAnd your husband . . .”
    â€œWasn’t,” she said. “Not even half.” She breathed out a sigh and looked at the watch on her perfect wrist. You could take a picture of that wrist and hang it in a museum and folks would come from all around to see it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ve been more than fair with my time. I’ve got a hard afternoon ahead. I’ve got to talk to my father . . .”
    â€œAbout me.”
    â€œAbout you. And then I’m meeting with the detectives in an hour. The real detectives.”
    â€œSheriff Wince.”
    â€œYou’ve met him?”
    â€œNo, but I’ve met some who have. My understanding is he’s chewing on a theory that your husband and Mays ran into danger working their latest story.”
    She nodded. She said, “The meth story.”
    Well, that took me aback. Before I could stop myself, I said, “Meth story? Not the Knight Hawk’s safety practices?”
    It took her an instant. Then she glared, but there was fear behind it. The piercing eyes pierced deeper. “You sonofabitch. You have no idea how dangerous what you’re saying is. To me. To my husband.”
    â€œMrs. Beckett, do you have any idea who they might have been looking at? Chances are, if they’re at the Knight Hawk, I know them.”
    â€œGet out. Now.”
    â€œTemple . . .”
    â€œI said now .”
    She raised her voice enough that the door swung open immediately and Susan reappeared. I was right; she’d beenthere the whole time. I guess you couldn’t fault her loyalty. I sighed and stood up to go, folding my towel.
    â€œI hope everything works out,” I said.
    She didn’t answer. Either it would or it wouldn’t. She turned her back to me and faced the bank of windows along the western wall, down toward the waters of Crab Orchard Lake.
    I followed Susan back through the house and the runway-hallway beneath the skylight. I had hoped the weather would be slowing some, but it was raining even harder now, and the glass was dark and loud with it. I’d have to find an overpass to park beneath until it let off.
    Susan opened the door. She indicated the folded towel. I was still holding it.
    â€œI don’t guess you were