“Sounds like you won’t be spending much time in Passcoe,” Annajane said. “How long has this been in the works?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. And now, since I don’t have any ties to Quixie, well, there’s really no reason to stay around here. This house is beyond depressing. I’m only sixty-six, did you know that, Annajane? Glenn left me very well-fixed, so I intend to go out and live my life for myself now. Maybe even date. Who knows? I might even decide to remarry.”

“Go for it,” Annajane said. “But you were telling me about Glenn. About the day he died.”

“I put the Viagra bottle on the bathroom counter, right beside his shaving kit, and then I waited for him to wake up and find it,” Sallie said. “He came downstairs, still in his bathrobe. Glenn never left the bedroom unless he was fully dressed. It was a pet peeve of his.”

“I remember, Pokey always had to get dressed before she came downstairs, even on Saturday mornings,” Annajane said.

“I should have known he wasn’t feeling well,” Sallie said. “But I was so angry!”

“Did you confront him about the Viagra? About the woman he’d been with?”

“Eva. Her name was Eva,” Sallie said. “He said it was just a … mild flirtation. We had a fight. I told him I wouldn’t stand for being humiliated anymore. I asked him if he wanted a divorce, and he said no, of course not. He apologized, and I left shortly after that, to go to the country club for my bridge date. And when I got home,” she said, biting her lip. “He was on the floor, unconscious.” She opened a cookie jar on the counter and brought out yet another pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit a cigarette with trembling hands and blinked back tears.

“That’s a nice story,” Annajane said. “Too bad it’s not true.”

“You’re calling me a liar?” Sallie asked, her face deadpan.

“I guess I am,” Annajane said.

54

Sallie flicked her cigarette into the sink, then turned on the tap to wash away the telltale ashes. She regarded Annajane as she might have regarded a cockroach who’d had the bad luck to wander into her immaculate kitchen.

“Why don’t you tell me what you think happened?”

“I know for a fact that Glenn was having chest pains that morning,” Annajane said. “Voncile called him on his cell phone, because she was concerned that he’d missed the company Christmas party.”

“Did she now?” Sallie asked.

“Even she could tell, just from his voice on the phone, that he was having problems breathing. He admitted that he wasn’t feeling well. Voncile begged him to call his cardiologist or to go to the emergency room, but he told her you were right there, taking good care of him.”

“Cardiologist?” Sallie said. “I wasn’t aware at the time that he had a cardiologist. Just one of the many secrets Glenn kept from me.”

“You’re a liar,” Annajane said. “You knew he was on heart medication. Blood pressure meds, too. You had to know. If he was having … whatever, that he couldn’t perform in bed…”

“Who said he was having problems in bed?” Sallie asked. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to have respect for your elders?” She tsk-tsked. “This is really not a topic for polite conversation, Annajane dear.”

“I’m tired of polite conversation,” Annajane said. “So let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.”

“Oh, please do,” Sallie said.

“Voncile talked to Glenn at around ten o’clock that morning. He was having chest pains, which you had to have known. But you did nothing. I ran into you at the country club when you were arriving around noon. You knew he was probably having a heart attack. Did you hide his meds from him? Did you watch him gasping for breath, Sallie?”

“Absurd,” Sallie said. “Glenn was fine when I left the house. He was watching the Carolina game and cussing a blue streak about the defense.”

“The Carolina game? At noon? Really?” Annajane said mockingly. “That’s interesting, because Mason was watching the game much later that afternoon. You know, it would be easy to look it up on the Internet, what time that game started. Are you sure that’s right?”

“It was some football game,” Sallie said. “I was so mad; I was distracted. But I do know that Glenn was fine when I left that house. He was alert and watching the game. And that’s all that matters.”

“Voncile told me she tried to call Glenn’s cell again before noon,” Annajane said. “But the call went right to voice mail. So she called the house and she talked to you. Don’t you remember that, Sallie?”

“It was an awful day. My husband died that day, remember?”

“Voncile remembers it, because she was so worried about Glenn. You told her he was fine, but he was taking a nap.”

“I just told her that to get her off the phone. He was watching the game!” Sallie repeated. “Glenn hated to be disturbed when he was watching football. The whole house could have burned down around him, and he wouldn’t have noticed.”

Annajane shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he was in full-blown cardiac distress. I think you knew it, and you were so pissed at him, you deliberately left him there to die.”

She stood inches away from Sallie, whose back was to the sink. “Did he ask you to get his heart meds, Sallie?”

“No!”

“Did he ask you to call 911?”

“No!”

“Did you stand there and watch him dying? Was he already unconscious when you left to go play bridge at the country club? Were you surprised to come home that afternoon and find him still alive? Is that why you called 911 when you did? Because you knew it was already too late?”

Sallie stubbed her cigarette out in the sink and turned on the tap and then the garbage disposal. The metallic rattling filled the room until she switched it off. She washed her hands, dried them, then carefully applied moisturizing cream to each of her elegantly manicured hands.

“I loved my husband,” she said calmly. “I took care of him until the very end. And you can’t prove otherwise.”

“You’re right. I can’t prove a thing,” Annajane said. “But I don’t have to. Mason and Pokey are already asking themselves the same things I just asked you. They don’t want to believe what you’re capable of. But I know. And you know. And that’s good enough for me.”

Annajane left Sallie standing in the kitchen. She let herself out the front door and didn’t look back. It was, she’d already decided, her last trip to Cherry Hill.

55

Mason pulled around to the front of the Pinecone Motor Lodge and parked in front of Annajane’s unit. It was Friday night, the week before Memorial Day, and she was still putting the wedding off, still refusing to move out of the damned Pinecone Motor Lodge. It was a nice enough place, he guessed, but he was tired of playing this cat-and-mouse game. He honked the horn twice. Nothing. He was going to have to do this the hard way. Her way. He strolled up to the door and knocked.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s the big bad wolf,” Mason answered. “Open up, or I’ll huff and I’ll puff…”

The door swung open. Annajane was barefoot, dressed in a pair of white shorts and a beat-up Braves jersey. His lucky jersey. “And then what?” she asked carelessly.

He smiled and tugged her by the hand. “Come on,” he said. “There’s something I want you to see.”

“Right now?” she protested. “Mason, I’ve got stuff to do. I told you that earlier today. I’ll come over in the morning, and we’ll fix bacon and pancakes for Sophie, but right now…”

“Right now, you’re coming with me,” he said. “Please?”

“Just let me change,” Annajane said. “I’m a mess. I was going to wash my hair.”

“You’re fine the way you are. In fact, perfect. Now let’s go.”

She finally managed to talk him into letting her put on a pair of sneakers and grab her phone, but five minutes later they were rolling through town in the Chevelle with the roof down, Journey blasting on the tape player.