An Unfortunate Prairie Occurrence by Jamie Harrison

Author:Jamie Harrison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2024-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

10 Wind

“THERE’S NO ASSHOLE LIKE AN OLD ASSHOLE,” whispered Cicely.

Alice’s eyes opened wide, but she nodded in agreement. At the other end of the Ganter living room Laura was passing out muffins; they’d been waiting for Joseph to finish “business calls” for twenty minutes.

Cicely had almost no tolerance for delays, but most of the other women in the room seemed happy enough. Venus began to talk again, an informative monologue aimed mostly at Alice. “You’ll find the most beautiful stones in this cemetery, and some gorgeous epitaphs.”

“‘Up or down?’ for the old bellboy at the Baird,” said Angelina.

“How about ‘Miracles happen’?” said Olive. “Poor sucker.”

“I like ‘Let it go,’” said Indie. “From that one old man who said it to the sheriff as he was dying, the sheriff not realizing the murderer was sitting right there with them.”

“‘I told you my heart was broken’ has always been a personal favorite,” said Cicely tartly.

“‘All the stars close their eyes for you’ is mine,” said Mabel. “For that poor girl who burned herself up with her baby after a divorce.”

Venus shot an annoyed look in their direction. “I had the more dulcet inscriptions in mind. There’s some very nice poetry and pretty Bible verse—people used to try harder. And anyway, get your facts straight. That girl was divorced, but she killed herself after a different misfortune. And the baby was retarded.”

Alice wondered if Venus meant no one should mind as much. “What’s a ‘different misfortune’?”

“One of those rapes you could never find in the old papers,” said Angelina dryly. “You had to know what to look for. A line about so-and-so recovering in a hospital or visiting relatives.”

“Or thus and such a housekeeper leaving.”

“Speaking of murder,” said Cicely bitterly.

“Stop it,” said Indie with surprising sharpness. She met Alice’s eye. “It’s so unpleasant.”

Everyone was quiet, watching; even Joseph, still on the phone at the far end of the room, seemed to be listening. Venus tried to regain the advantage. “We had skating meets, skiing in the park with the old rope tow over Christmas. I believe there were many fine weddings that summer—”

“Oh, please,” said Ella Bolan. “We’ve had plenty of violence. Manslaughter they usually label it, and robbery and arson. And those rapes.”

Alice looked around the room. “Did they catch the man?”

Cicely shrugged. Indie walked into the kitchen while Ettie, oblivious, talked to a parakeet in the far corner of the room. She hadn’t asked about the trunks once so far that day; perhaps she’d taken Alice’s last promise about Jules’s opening them seriously.

“What was the story of the housekeeper?” asked Alice. “Who was murdered?”

“Just an Indian, sweetheart,” said Mabel. “Though I know it’s not fashionable to put it that way these days.”

“It certainly isn’t,” said Olive. “And I don’t see a point to hiding the past. Bad stuff happens here. Every ten years or so there’s something awful.”

“That average has gone up a bit,” said Cicely dryly. “Just ask your son.”

“All of those people died last year,” said Olive. “Before that it had been at least a decade.

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