"Susan didn't tell you? The skeleton that Lucky found, which must be the one they've figured out is Earl, had a bullet hole in the back of the skull," Jack said absently, looking at the list.
Lorraine turned pale and stumbled a few steps back from the table. I caught her arm and guided her to a comfy chair in her front room. "I'll just get you some tea."
"I'd prefer bourbon," she called after me as I headed for the kitchen. "Cupboard over the sink on the right."
Jack followed me into the kitchen, looking grim. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. The man may have been an SOB, but he was her husband, after all."
"I wasn't thinking about that, either," I admitted. "I was just so excited to find some clues we can work with to figure this all out. Lorraine can't go to jail, Jack! I know she couldn't have done this."
He took the bottle of bourbon down and then paused before handing it to me. "You know, we never asked her."
"Asked her what?"
"If she did it."
"That's ridiculous!" I snatched the bottle out of his hand and poured some in a glass for Lorraine. "She would never—she could never—"
"We still need to ask," he said gently. "We'll help her either way, but it would be good to know."
"No, I didn't kill him," Lorraine said behind us. "Although I almost wish I had."
I gasped and whirled around. "Lorraine, I'm so sorry. We were just—"
She leaned against the doorway, looking frail and shaky. And my heart thumped. "No, no. Jack's right. You needed to know. I didn't kill him, and I truly believed he'd abandoned me. I spent years looking over my shoulder, jumping at noises, afraid he'd come back. Believe me, if I'd killed him, my life would have been a lot easier."
"Did you know about Beau? That Earl owed him money?"
"No." She took the glass I held out and downed the bourbon in a couple of long swallows. "But you can believe I'm going to ask him about it now."
I took a deep breath. "And what about my family? Why did they react so strangely? Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby won't talk to me about it, and Eleanor actually fainted right there at the festival."
A ghost of a grin crossed her face. "Eleanor always was dramatic."
When she didn’t say anything else, I repeated the question. "Lorraine. What about my family?"
She said nothing.
I waited.
Jack stood silently, watching her.
"It's… complicated," she finally said. "But they would never have killed Earl, either. It had to be somebody he owed money to. Probably somebody in the ledger. We just need to figure out which one of them it was who woke up that morning in September 1970, and decided—"
A solid thump interrupted her. And when the music started to play, I groaned. The box had followed us.
"Earl's Gotta Die."
9
Ibriefly explained the music box, but Lorraine just shrugged. We Dead End folks weren't easily surprised.
She needed sleep. Her face was as white as a fresh-washed pillowcase on laundry day.
"Okay. Up to bed," I told her. "You're exhausted, and the bourbon didn't help."
"It helped a lot," she countered, her eyes half-closed. "But you're right. I need some sleep. Can we meet in the morning?"
"Breakfast for everybody at Tess's place," Jack said, and I nodded. Maybe having Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby on my turf would help open them up. We needed to know what that weird reaction had been about.
