ran one hand over the wooden seat, his brow furrowed in thought. “But the murder’s not an old story. The murder just happened a year ago.”
A long cold wind curled around them, rattling the bleachers. Martha glanced nervously at the sky and huddled deeper into her jacket.
“The Bedfords had money, so the house sat empty a lot. They were funny people — kind of eccentric, I guess — and Bedford was just too small for their tastes. Then George Bedford decided to move back to his roots, so he and his wife and daughter lived in the house the last few years. Elizabeth, the daughter” — his voice lowered, and for a minute Martha thought he looked sad — “Elizabeth was Wynn’s age. Really pretty … really sweet girl. She and Wynn got to be best friends. They spent a lot of time together. The parents were pretty social — they went off to the city a lot and left Elizabeth by herself, so Wynn was good company for her.”
Martha nodded, blew on her fingers, flexing her hands. “So far it doesn’t sound very scary. Just sad.”
“Someone murdered Elizabeth. Wynn found her at the house up in her room.”
The last bit of warmth drained from Martha’s body. As a soft flurry of leaves sifted down upon their shoulders, Blake reached over and untangled one from her hair. Martha flinched at his touch.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s okay.” Martha shook her head emphatically. “Go on. Please.”
Blake gave an almost imperceptible nod and leaned back again, propping his feet on the seat below. “Dennis killed her,” he said softly. “It was Dennis’s fault.”
“What …?” Martha could feel her lips forming the words, but for a moment no sound would come. She watched Blake’s fingers tracing the zipper of his jacket. “Who’s Dennis?”
Blake shot her a meaningful look. “A guy who used to live here. I went to school with him … he played on the team….”
“How horrible!”
“He was a total jerk. Everyone knew what a hotshot he was — he acted like he owned the whole town and he took whatever he wanted — like everyone owed him something. He wanted Elizabeth — arid for a while he had her, too. Until she dumped him.”
Martha was watching Blake’s face, the way it was struggling to control emotions, the way his eyes averted from hers with a sudden coldness. “Why did she do that?”
“’Cause she got smart,” Blake said quickly. He stared hard into the past, the tension beginning to ease around his mouth. “I … I guess she just got tired of all his bullshit. He liked to brag, you know — usually about things that had never happened.”
Martha nodded. “I think I get the picture. But how —?”
Blake didn’t let her finish. “I know he killed her,” he said flatly. “But before he did it, he tried to put her through hell.”
Another wave of gooseflesh went over her. Martha clasped her hands together tightly and pressed them against her chin, trying not to shake. “Blake … I —”
“You never crossed Dennis,” Blake said softly. “I know … everyone knew. You never crossed him and got away with it — he’d find some way to get back … to make your life miserable. Everyone in town knew what he was like — he just didn’t care about anything or anyone. And when Elizabeth said she didn’t want to see him anymore, he made her pay for making him look bad.”
Martha shook her head. “He sounds like some kind of monster.”
“Oh, but he didn’t look like one.” Blake’s laugh was derisive. “All the girls thought he was great — and he was good-looking. And he could turn the charm off and on like water — he was a real pro. But he didn’t have any real friends. And he didn’t have any loyalties. Even on the basketball team, he was a dirty player. And everyone was afraid of him, and he knew it, so that made it easy for him.”
Martha was silent for a long while, her mind working to sort it all out. “And so he killed Elizabeth just to get
A long cold wind curled around them, rattling the bleachers. Martha glanced nervously at the sky and huddled deeper into her jacket.
“The Bedfords had money, so the house sat empty a lot. They were funny people — kind of eccentric, I guess — and Bedford was just too small for their tastes. Then George Bedford decided to move back to his roots, so he and his wife and daughter lived in the house the last few years. Elizabeth, the daughter” — his voice lowered, and for a minute Martha thought he looked sad — “Elizabeth was Wynn’s age. Really pretty … really sweet girl. She and Wynn got to be best friends. They spent a lot of time together. The parents were pretty social — they went off to the city a lot and left Elizabeth by herself, so Wynn was good company for her.”
Martha nodded, blew on her fingers, flexing her hands. “So far it doesn’t sound very scary. Just sad.”
“Someone murdered Elizabeth. Wynn found her at the house up in her room.”
The last bit of warmth drained from Martha’s body. As a soft flurry of leaves sifted down upon their shoulders, Blake reached over and untangled one from her hair. Martha flinched at his touch.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s okay.” Martha shook her head emphatically. “Go on. Please.”
Blake gave an almost imperceptible nod and leaned back again, propping his feet on the seat below. “Dennis killed her,” he said softly. “It was Dennis’s fault.”
“What …?” Martha could feel her lips forming the words, but for a moment no sound would come. She watched Blake’s fingers tracing the zipper of his jacket. “Who’s Dennis?”
Blake shot her a meaningful look. “A guy who used to live here. I went to school with him … he played on the team….”
“How horrible!”
“He was a total jerk. Everyone knew what a hotshot he was — he acted like he owned the whole town and he took whatever he wanted — like everyone owed him something. He wanted Elizabeth — arid for a while he had her, too. Until she dumped him.”
Martha was watching Blake’s face, the way it was struggling to control emotions, the way his eyes averted from hers with a sudden coldness. “Why did she do that?”
“’Cause she got smart,” Blake said quickly. He stared hard into the past, the tension beginning to ease around his mouth. “I … I guess she just got tired of all his bullshit. He liked to brag, you know — usually about things that had never happened.”
Martha nodded. “I think I get the picture. But how —?”
Blake didn’t let her finish. “I know he killed her,” he said flatly. “But before he did it, he tried to put her through hell.”
Another wave of gooseflesh went over her. Martha clasped her hands together tightly and pressed them against her chin, trying not to shake. “Blake … I —”
“You never crossed Dennis,” Blake said softly. “I know … everyone knew. You never crossed him and got away with it — he’d find some way to get back … to make your life miserable. Everyone in town knew what he was like — he just didn’t care about anything or anyone. And when Elizabeth said she didn’t want to see him anymore, he made her pay for making him look bad.”
Martha shook her head. “He sounds like some kind of monster.”
“Oh, but he didn’t look like one.” Blake’s laugh was derisive. “All the girls thought he was great — and he was good-looking. And he could turn the charm off and on like water — he was a real pro. But he didn’t have any real friends. And he didn’t have any loyalties. Even on the basketball team, he was a dirty player. And everyone was afraid of him, and he knew it, so that made it easy for him.”
Martha was silent for a long while, her mind working to sort it all out. “And so he killed Elizabeth just to get
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