K Is for Killer

two of them were friends and got along okay."
    I stared at her. "Are you trying to tell me you still have the tapes?"
    "Well, sure, but there's only one," she said. "The first time was mostly static, so I went ahead and taped over it."
    "You mind if I listen?"
    "You mean right now?"
    "If you don't mind."

Chapter 15
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    She unfolded herself and got up from the table. She moved out into the hallway and disappeared from sight. Moments later she returned with an empty cassette box and a little tape recorder, the cassette already in place and visible through the oval window. "I guess I didn't have to keep this, but it made me feel better. Really, J.D. couldn't have killed her because he wasn't even in town. He took off Friday morning on a fishing trip. She wasn't killed until Saturday when he was miles away."
    "Where were you that day?"
    "I was gone too. I decided to go part of the way with him. He took me as far as Santa Maria and dropped Jack and me at my sister's on Friday. I spent a week with her and then came home on the bus."
    "You have any objections to giving me her name and number?"
    "You don't believe me?"
    "Let's don't get into that, Leda. You're not exactly a Girl Scout," I said.
    "Well, I know, but that doesn't mean I'd kill anyone."
    "What about J.D.? Can he verify his whereabouts?"
    "You can ask my sister's husband, Nick. That's who he went to Nacimiento with."
    I made a note of the name and number.
    Leda punched the play button on the recorder. After a brief interval of white noise, the sound seemed to jump out. The reception was dismal, filled with clunks and banging as people moved around. With the equipment so close, the knocking on the door sounded like lightning cracks. A chair scraped, and someone thunked across the floor.
    "Oh, hi. Come on in. I got the check right here."
    There were a couple of inaudible remarks between the two of them. The front door closed like a muffled explosion.
    Footsteps clunking. "How's Leda feeling?"
    "She's kind of down in the dumps, but she was this way last time. She gets to feeling fat and ugly. She's convinced I'm going out to screw around on her, so she busts out crying every time I leave the house."
    I put out a hand. "Hold on a minute. That's J.D.'s voice?"
    She pushed pause, and the recording stopped. "Yeah, I know. It's hard to recognize. I had to play it two or three times myself. You want to hear it again?"
    "If you don't mind," I said. "I've never heard Lorna's voice, but I'm assuming you can identify her as well."
    "Well, sure," Leda said. She punched the rewind button. When the tape stopped, she pressed play, and we listened to the opening again. "Oh, hi. Come on in. I got the check right here."
    Again, muffled remarks between the two of them and the front door closed like a sonic boom.
    Footsteps clunking. "How's Leda feeling?"
    "She's kind of down in the dumps, but she was this way last time. She gets to feeling fat and ugly. She's convinced I'm going out to screw around on her, so she busts out crying every time I leave the house."
    Lorna was saying, "What's her problem? She looks darling."
    "Well, I think so, but she's got some girlfriend that happened to." Footsteps thunked across the floor and a chair scraped back, sounding like a lion roaring in the jungle.
    "She only gained fifteen pounds with Jack. How could she feel fat? She doesn't even show. My mother gained forty-six with me. Now, that's uggers. I've seen pictures. Stomach hanging down to here. Boobs looked like footballs, and her legs looked like sticks." Laughter. Mumbles. Static.
    "Yeah, well, it isn't real, so you can't talk her out of it. You know how she is.... [mumble, mumble]... insecure."
    "That's what you get for hooking up with someone half your age."
    "She's twenty-one!"
    "Serves you right. She's an infant. Listen, you want me to keep Jack while you two go out to dinner?" More mumbles.
    "xxxxxxx" The response here was completely missing, blotted out by static.
    "... problem. He and I get along great. In exchange, you can do me a favor and fog the place for me next time I go out of town. The spiders are getting out of control."
    "Thanks.... ceipt in your mailbox." Chairs scraping. Clump, clump of footsteps crossing the cabin. Muffled voices. The conversation continued outside and then stopped abruptly. Silence. When the tape picked up again, there were strains of country music with the high whine of a hair dryer running over it. A phone began to ring. The hair dryer was turned off.