And Then You Dye by Monica Ferris

Author:Monica Ferris [Ferris, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2012-10-26T13:00:00+00:00

* * *

PHIL wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know Walt all that well. The man was one of the quiet ones, a conservative player who, while cheerful, rarely laughed out loud, and who rarely either lost or won big. Yet he was a faithful player, hardly ever missing a session.

Phil tried to think how best to approach Walt. Would a direct appeal work? Or should he play it cool, let someone else bring up the topic of Hailey Brent’s murder? Surely someone would. The fact of it going unsolved for over a month was a complaint heard everywhere. Then he could brag a little about Betsy and work it around to her still needing to talk to some people.

This week they were meeting at Paul Miley’s house. Paul had beer and soft drinks set out, along with chips, dip, and crackers and cheese. They gathered in the “man room,” down in the basement, which was furnished with a pool table, a poker table, a big elderly refrigerator, and a little wet bar. Neon signs advertising beer lit up the cream-colored walls and strewed patches of color across the Berber carpet.

The six men each bought forty dollars in chips from their host. The highest value was five dollars, a chip rarely used.

They popped open beers and began with a complaint about the weather. It had been a slow-opening spring, but now it was too warm and dry.

Kurt, the youngest, who lived with his severely handicapped brother in a condo apartment, said, “If they don’t run the sprinklers every other evening the grass turns brown.”

“My dad washes his car twice a week, trying to make it rain,” said Paul, a big, genial man with a close-cropped gray beard.

“Maybe we should start a movement,” suggested Parker, a very obese man in his fifties. “Everyone washes their car twice a week.”

“Can I run it through a gas station car wash?” asked Mick, a short man with big ears and a crooked smile. “Or does that superstition only work if you wash it by hand?”

Paul appeared to consider that. “I think washing by hand makes it stronger—but only if you do it yourself. Hiring a neighbor kid to do it doesn’t count.”

Walter, a tall, handsome man not yet forty, with steady light blue eyes, said, “We have two cars. Do we have to wash both of them, or can we alternate?”

It was clear to Phil that they weren’t going to talk about the murder. He said, “Let’s get this show on the road. Come to the table, and let’s cut the cards to see who deals first.”

They began playing at around seven thirty and stopped for a break at nine thirty, rising from the table to walk around the big room. They made jokes about the neon signs. “If the county attorney peeks in a window and sees all that advertising, he’ll make you buy a liquor license,” laughed Kurt. They ate chips and dip—the cheese and crackers were for during the game, as they did not mess up the cards like greasy potato chips did.

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