she’s feeling some of that, too.”
“I’d like to talk to her. She’s one of the reasons I’m here. Do you think that would be possible?”
“It’s certainly possible. But I’m not sure it’s appropriate. She already has a small army of grief counselors—amateurs and professionals—at her disposal,” I said.
“Is the house still a—what’s the expression?—a crime scene?”
“No. The state police and the investigators from the crime lab were done by the end of Monday afternoon. It was pretty obvious what had happened. A lot of yesterday is already a blur, but I think most of the official people were gone by four-thirty or five.”
“Ah, the official people.”
“You know what I mean. The medical examiner. The detectives.”
“Can I see the house? Or is that inappropriate, too?”
“The door’s locked. But I think Ginny has the key, if you’d like.”
“I don’t think
like
is exactly the right word,” she said. “But I do want to see the inside of the house.”
“A visit to the Book Depository while in Dallas?”
“Something like that.”
I shrugged. “I’ll call Ginny. The two of us can go for a visit.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You’ve been asking me questions for the last half an hour.”
“Just why do you blame yourself for George and Alice Hayward’s deaths?”
“I don’t blame myself precisely,” I told her, careful to keep my voice even, a monotone of reasonability. “But I do fear that I gave Alice permission.”
“To die.”
“Yes.”
“At the baptism you told me about.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you marry them?”
“No. They were married in Bennington years before I met them.”
“Did you want her to leave him? Just kick him out—or get the heck out of that house herself and never go back?”
Yes
, I thought,
in hindsight I did want her to get out of that house. Briefly, perhaps, I even wanted her to move into mine. Into this parsonage
. But of course I didn’t say that. Because no one knew. Because Alice and I had barely even tiptoed around such a notion, even when we were alone in her home and content in the fog of a postcoital torpor—when, usually, all things seem possible and all lovers are optimists.
“I did,” I answered simply. “I kept hoping she would take Katie and run. Go anywhere. Move in with her parents in Nashua. Move in with Ginny right here. Perhaps get a place of her own in Bennington.”
“It’s not that easy. Not emotionally, not financially.”
“I know. She was married to a reprehensible man. She would have needed someone willing to step up and protect her. Still, I wish…”
“What do you wish?”
“I never want to see a marriage go belly-up.” It was not what I had planned to say, but I had to say something.
“Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder?”
“Something like that. And sometimes I’m afraid that she tried to preserve the marriage for Katie.”
“That’s completely ridiculous, you know.”
“I do. And sometimes I’m afraid that she clung to the marriage because she was afraid she didn’t know what would become of her if she didn’t.”
“The devil she knew?”
“Precisely.”
“What about her friends? What did they want?”
I understood what she was getting at, and she was correct. “I know Ginny wanted her to divorce him. She loathed George. Thought he was absolutely despicable. She was thrilled when Alice got a temporary relief-from-abuse order and he went to live in their cottage on Lake Bomoseen for a couple of months.”
“When was that?”
“Just before Valentine’s Day. He came back just before Memorial Day.”
“Not all that long ago.”
“No.”
“So she got a restraining order—”
“A temporary restraining order. The police served it while George was at his office one Monday afternoon. There was a hearing scheduled a week later. Neither Alice nor George ever showed up.”
“That’s common.”
“I gather. Tell me,
“I’d like to talk to her. She’s one of the reasons I’m here. Do you think that would be possible?”
“It’s certainly possible. But I’m not sure it’s appropriate. She already has a small army of grief counselors—amateurs and professionals—at her disposal,” I said.
“Is the house still a—what’s the expression?—a crime scene?”
“No. The state police and the investigators from the crime lab were done by the end of Monday afternoon. It was pretty obvious what had happened. A lot of yesterday is already a blur, but I think most of the official people were gone by four-thirty or five.”
“Ah, the official people.”
“You know what I mean. The medical examiner. The detectives.”
“Can I see the house? Or is that inappropriate, too?”
“The door’s locked. But I think Ginny has the key, if you’d like.”
“I don’t think
like
is exactly the right word,” she said. “But I do want to see the inside of the house.”
“A visit to the Book Depository while in Dallas?”
“Something like that.”
I shrugged. “I’ll call Ginny. The two of us can go for a visit.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You’ve been asking me questions for the last half an hour.”
“Just why do you blame yourself for George and Alice Hayward’s deaths?”
“I don’t blame myself precisely,” I told her, careful to keep my voice even, a monotone of reasonability. “But I do fear that I gave Alice permission.”
“To die.”
“Yes.”
“At the baptism you told me about.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you marry them?”
“No. They were married in Bennington years before I met them.”
“Did you want her to leave him? Just kick him out—or get the heck out of that house herself and never go back?”
Yes
, I thought,
in hindsight I did want her to get out of that house. Briefly, perhaps, I even wanted her to move into mine. Into this parsonage
. But of course I didn’t say that. Because no one knew. Because Alice and I had barely even tiptoed around such a notion, even when we were alone in her home and content in the fog of a postcoital torpor—when, usually, all things seem possible and all lovers are optimists.
“I did,” I answered simply. “I kept hoping she would take Katie and run. Go anywhere. Move in with her parents in Nashua. Move in with Ginny right here. Perhaps get a place of her own in Bennington.”
“It’s not that easy. Not emotionally, not financially.”
“I know. She was married to a reprehensible man. She would have needed someone willing to step up and protect her. Still, I wish…”
“What do you wish?”
“I never want to see a marriage go belly-up.” It was not what I had planned to say, but I had to say something.
“Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder?”
“Something like that. And sometimes I’m afraid that she tried to preserve the marriage for Katie.”
“That’s completely ridiculous, you know.”
“I do. And sometimes I’m afraid that she clung to the marriage because she was afraid she didn’t know what would become of her if she didn’t.”
“The devil she knew?”
“Precisely.”
“What about her friends? What did they want?”
I understood what she was getting at, and she was correct. “I know Ginny wanted her to divorce him. She loathed George. Thought he was absolutely despicable. She was thrilled when Alice got a temporary relief-from-abuse order and he went to live in their cottage on Lake Bomoseen for a couple of months.”
“When was that?”
“Just before Valentine’s Day. He came back just before Memorial Day.”
“Not all that long ago.”
“No.”
“So she got a restraining order—”
“A temporary restraining order. The police served it while George was at his office one Monday afternoon. There was a hearing scheduled a week later. Neither Alice nor George ever showed up.”
“That’s common.”
“I gather. Tell me,
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