It's Not a Pretty Sight (15 page)

“I know, man, I know.”

Gunner took another step forward. Two or three more and Cagle would be close enough to touch.

“It isn’t fair,” Cagle said, his mood shifting back to melancholy again. His eyes were filled with fresh tears. “Am I weak? Is that my problem?”

“Weak? No, man, you’re not weak. You’re just in love with the wrong woman.” He had the gun out of Cagle’s hand before the man even knew he was reaching for it. Cagle didn’t say a word.

“It happens,” Gunner told him. “To all of us. Suck it up and move on, Leo. Your Sydney’s old news.”

Cagle nodded his head slowly, knowing it was true, then turned and ran away.

nine

“T
HAT WAS NICE WORK
,” S
INGER SAID.

She had watched the whole thing from the open front door, a small flock of the women in her charge encircling her. They all seemed quite impressed.

“Thanks,” Gunner said. He couldn’t help but notice that Sydney Cagle was not among the curious onlookers.

“Tell me that thing wasn’t loaded,” Singer said, eyeing the gun the investigator had just taken from Leo Cagle.

It was a .38-caliber Charter Arms, with a two-inch barrel and a silver finish. Gunner flipped open the cylinder and turned the weapon over, dropping six live shells into the palm of his left hand.

“My God,” somebody behind Singer said.

“Yeah,” Gunner said. “I was thinking the same thing myself.”

Shirley Causwell wouldn’t see him alone, so he had to interview them together. “Them” being Causwell and Angela Glass, the two Sisterhood House residents Singer had identified as Nina’s closest friends. She’d been ready to get rid of him only minutes ago, before Leo Cagle had shown up, but now of course she felt obligated to grant his every wish. Hence the interview he was about to conduct now.

Singer hadn’t told him what Causwell’s problem with being alone with men was all about, and he didn’t ask. Maybe later it would help to know, but right now, it was unimportant. Right now, Gunner just wanted the lady to talk to him.

Not that one-on-two’s were his arrangement of choice. Interviewing multiple subjects simultaneously created all kinds of problems—from the simple matter of keeping track of who said what, to the reluctance some interviewees had to being frank and forthcoming with their answers when someone else was around to hear them—but it was the only way this would work. He either did them together, or imposed on Singer even further by asking her to sit in on his conversation with Causwell.

He elected to do them together.

This time, the interview took place outside the house, out on the patio he had caught a glimpse of earlier through Singer’s office window. They all sat in white plastic deck chairs around a white plastic table, an open patio umbrella over their heads and a light, uninspired breeze in their faces. Glass sat to Gunner’s left, Causwell on his right, the latter so far removed from the table that she hardly seemed to be with them at all.

The black women were strikingly dissimilar. Glass was fair-skinned, Causwell dark; Glass tall and rather dumpy-looking, Causwell short and petite; Glass wore a jagged Afro, Causwell’s hair was straight, long, and raven-black.

And Glass knew how to smile. Causwell apparently didn’t.

“Don’t mind Shirley,” Glass said, reaching out to pat Gunner’s knee. “She’s just a little gun-shy, that’s all. She’ll warm up in a minute.”

“Fuck you,” Causwell said. Not amused, not angry … As near as Gunner could tell, not
anything.

Glass just smiled at her, then said to Gunner, “Or maybe she won’t.”

Whatever her experience with domestic violence, it hadn’t cost her her cheery disposition. Or perhaps more accurately, her ability to artificially effect one. She was as unrelentingly ebullient as anyone Gunner had ever met.

“So you were a friend of Nina’s,” she said. Like that automatically made him all right.

“It looks like we have that in common, yes,” Gunner said. Then, to Causwell: “All three of us.”

Causwell didn’t say anything.

“You know, the idea of having Angela here with us was to make you feel more comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” Causwell said.

“You don’t act like it.”

“How would you like me to act?”

“Well, for starters, it’d be great if you could act like you don’t know me. As opposed to treating me like someone who killed your dog and torched your village in a past life, or something.”

Glass thought that was pretty funny, but Causwell just said, “Maybe you did.” As deadly serious as she could be.

Sighing, Gunner said, “Okay. I’m a devil. You don’t want to tattoo my name on your left breast, and you don’t want to have my baby. Fine. Now that you’ve made that clear to me, we should be free to talk about Nina.”

“Nina’s dead,” Causwell said.

“I’m aware of that. That’s why I’m here. Didn’t Ms. Singer explain—”

“She told us you’re a private detective,” Glass said. “And that you came here to talk to us because you think somebody here killed Nina. That isn’t really true, is it? Because if it is—”

“You’re wasting your fucking time,” Causwell said.

“Nina’s husband killed Nina. Nobody else. He
told
her he was going to kill her, and he did. It’s as simple as that.”

“Damn right it is.”

“When the cops catch up with him, you’ll see. He’ll cop a plea, go to jail, and be out on the street again in five years. Maybe three.”

“The cops have already caught up with him,” Gunner said. “But he’s in no condition to cop a plea. Right now he’s got his hands full just trying to stay alive.”

He told them where Pearson was, and how he had come to be there.

“You
shot him?” Glass asked.

“Reluctantly,” Gunner said.

“My hero.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I think you’re missing the point.”

“What point?”

“The point that the man might not be guilty as charged.”

“Shit. He’s guilty,” Causwell sneered.

“And if he’s not? What then?”

“Then we only celebrate half as hard.” She smiled.

“But if somebody else killed her—”

“There
is
nobody else,” Glass said.

“And even if there was, you wouldn’t find ’em here,” Causwell said. “Only people you’re gonna find here were Nina’s friends. The kind of friends men don’t have. It’s not in your nature.”

“Is that right,” Gunner said sarcastically.

“Yeah, that’s right. The name of the house is Sisterhood for a reason, brother. We’re all sisters here, and we treat each other that way. Every single one of us.”

“Including Agnes Felker.”

“Agnes? Agnes was crazy.”

“Crazy or not, she didn’t like Nina. And she was a ‘sister.’”

“Agnes didn’t like a lot of people. So what?”

“So maybe Agnes wasn’t the only crazy lady living here. That’s what.” He gave the two women a moment to dispute that, then went on. “Look. I understand this is a very special place for you people. That you all share a certain life experience that bonds you together like nothing else could. But all of your talk about sisterhood aside, this is not a monastery. You’re not all monks, and you’re not all angels. So you get on each other’s nerves and you piss each other off, and when one of you gets pissed off bad enough, you do something about it.”

“Do we get in each other’s faces? Is that the question?” Glass asked. “Sure we do. All the time. But it never amounts to anything. Wendy would make us leave if it did.”

“Like she did Agnes?”

“Man, we
told
you: Agnes was crazy. She and Nina got into it, sure, but that’s only ’cause Agnes got into it with
everybody.
She didn’t have anything against Nina in particular.”

“But Nina had something against her.”

Glass just blinked at him. “I don’t—”

“Agnes had a bad mouth,” Causwell broke in, showing some impatience with the way Glass was dealing with the subject. “Some of the language she used, Nina didn’t like much. A lot of us didn’t.”

“Oh. Is that what he’s talkin’ about?” Glass asked.

“Most of us would just ignore it, but Nina wouldn’t. Nina would call her on it. She was just very sensitive about that sort of thing. She didn’t
hate
Agnes or anything.”

“The two never got physical with one another?”

“No.”

“No pushing and shoving, no pulling each other’s hair …”

“No. Never.”

“Never?”

“No. They … I mean …” Glass threw a quick glance at Causwell, then gave up a tiny shrug. “There was this
one
time, at dinner. Only time I can remember anything like this ever happenin’. Agnes called somebody a nigger, I forget who it was, and Nina came over and … and Agnes started saying it over and over again.
Nigger, nigger, nigger …
Just to piss Nina off.”

“That’s how Agnes could be,” Causwell said.

“And?” Gunner asked.

“And Nina had to slap her. Just once,” Glass said.

“Was it a hard slap, or just a love tap?”

Glass took a while to answer. “It was hard. I told you, Agnes was askin’ for it. If Nina hadn’t slapped the shit out of her, somebody else would’ ve.”

“
I
would have,” Causwell said.

Gunner looked at her. “I take it Agnes wasn’t around long after that.”

“No. She wasn’t,” Glass said. “Wendy doesn’t take that kind of shit around here, like I said. She’d been puttin’ up with Agnes’s crap for a long time, but that was the last straw. She sent Agnes packin’ after that.”

“And after she left? You ever see her again?”

“No.
I
didn’t see her, anyway.”

Both she and Gunner looked at Causwell. After a long pause, Causwell shook her head.

“Did anyone else?” Gunner asked.

“Not that I know of, no,” Glass said. “Nina said she got a letter from her once, but that was it.”

“A letter?”

“Yeah, a letter. I never saw it, but Nina said it was nasty and vulgar. And of course, full of
nigger
this, and
nigger
that. Nina thought it was funny.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah. She was laughin’ about it when she told me. I thought she’d be angry about it, but she wasn’t. I figured she just found it easier to laugh about the fool, now that she wasn’t going to have to deal with her anymore.”

“Where would this letter be now? Any ideas?”

“I don’t think it’s anywhere. I think Nina tore it up and threw it away. I mean, it certainly didn’t sound like somethin’ she was gonna wanna
keep.
”

Gunner turned to Causwell, who had been maintaining a stubborn silence for some time now. “Did
you
ever see this letter?”

“No.”

“Or hear about it?”

“No.”

“Nina never mentioned it to you?”

“No. Nina never mentioned it to me.” She was aiming her icy stare at Glass now, rolling her cold coffee cup between her palms like a potter shaping a vase.

He wasn’t supposed to notice, but Gunner saw Glass give her a little smile and shrug.

Rather than ask her about it, he just pulled out his little notebook and opened it. “Tell me about Trini Serrano,” he said.

“Trini? What about her?” Glass asked.

“I understand she was another close friend of Nina’s.”

“Yeah. She was. So?”

“So Ms. Singer says she stopped coming by the house here just a few weeks after Nina went home.”

Glass looked at him expectantly. “And?”

“And I thought the timing of that was a little odd. Maybe I’m wrong.”

Once again, both Glass and Causwell just sat there and stared at him, as if neither of them could begin to guess what he was trying to imply.

“She had to go back east to work for a few months,” Glass said. “So what?”

“Is that what she told you? That she was going back east to work?”

“Yes. That’s what she told everybody.”

“Everybody including Ms. Singer?”

“Wendy?”

“Ms. Singer thinks she stopped coming by because she doesn’t have time to come anymore. At least, that’s what she told me.”

Glass shrugged. “So?”

“So I’m wondering why the two explanations.”

Glass expected him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “I don’t follow you,” she said.

“I’m still trying to figure out if there could have been a connection between her departure and Nina’s.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t suppose
she
ever had a cross word with Nina.”

“Trini?”

“Yeah. Trini.”

Glass thought a moment, said, “I don’t know about any cross words she might’ve had with her, but … I know she wasn’t gettin’ along too well with Nina when Nina left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because Nina wasn’t speakin’ to her. Trini was speakin’ to
her
, but she wasn’t speakin’ to Trini.”

“And why was that?”

“I don’t know. All I know is, Trini didn’t want Nina to go. Nobody here did. I just figured it had somethin’ to do with that.”

“Nina never discussed it with you?”

“What? Why she wasn’t talkin’ to Trini?”

“Yes.”

“No. She never said anything to me about it.”

Gunner looked over at Causwell. “What about you?”