Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

advantage,” I said.
    “You bet your ass he did.” It sounded shocking coming out of such a small, childlike person, the anger behind it seemingly incongruous. “I was just out of a ten-year marriage— I got married right after high school and never dated anyone but my husband Joey, and that was in the eleventh grade! I didn’t know a thing about men; or dating. Or sex. Well, there are lots of women like me, right?”
    “You mean women involved with Jason McKendrick?”
    She looked surprised. “I don’t know. Were there?”
    “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t understand what you meant— women like you in what way?”
    “Dumb. Naive. Just like there’s lots of men like Jason McKendrick. Assholes.”
    Both Rob and I were silent. Goldie Hawn snored.
    “I want everybody to know, that’s why I called you. I want people to know what he was really like.”
    Rob finally summoned the courage to say, “You seem awfully angry.”
    “He fucked me, he got me pregnant, he dumped me.
    I gasped. “Oh, you poor thing. How awful— to go through an abortion alone.”
    “I didn’t have an abortion. Why would I have an abortion? Joey and I had been trying to get pregnant the whole time we were married. Come look.” She led us down a hall to a closed door. Inside was a nursery, with a sleeping baby in a crib. For the first time since she’d seen my Jeep, Hilary smiled. “This is Shirleen. Shirleen McKendrick.”
    “Did Jason help support her?”
    “Shhh!” She put her finger to her lips, took us out of the room, and closed the door. She said, “Jason never even came to see her. He said she wasn’t his kid.”
    “Why did he say that?”
    She didn’t answer till we were back in the living room. “Well, he came over one night, and Joey was here. By the way, you know why I’m telling you this? I want you to know I’m not after any money. I was still married when I was seeing Jason, and Joey came over a couple of times then.” She dropped her eyes. “Once we slept together, but I didn’t get pregnant. I mean, I’m sure of that. Do you understand?” This time she looked hard at me.
    I nodded and said what she was too shy to say: “You mean, you got your period afterward?”
    She spoke with eyes still down, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Yes. So I know Shirleen’s Jason’s— but look, I know I’d look trashy to some judge. I’m not trying to get money. I just don’t want other women to have to go through this.”
    Somehow I didn’t think she’d be canonized for her nobility, but I could see why she’d called Rob. She was furious, and I didn’t blame her. However, there was a tiny point we hadn’t covered. The time had come.
    Rob said, “Hilary. On the phone, you said you knew who the murderer was.”
    “I do. It was someone like me.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Look, I’ve got a motive, haven’t I? There were times when I’d have liked to kill him, God forgive me. I'm a god-fearing woman, Mr. Burns. I go to church every Sunday and always have. And I still felt like I wanted to kill that man. I know it was wrong, but I did. And I know … I just know … that that’s who did it. Someone like me.”
    “But who?”
    “Well, I don’t know her name . I just know her profile. Isn’t that how cops catch people— with profiles?”
    “Look, Hilary, have you talked to the police about this?”
    “No. I wanted to get it in the paper , that’s why I called you. ” She was getting panicky now. It made her whiny.
    “If I write about it, the police are going to come calling, and they’re probably going to ask you where you were on the night of the murder.”
    “I was here! I’m always here. With Shirleen.”
    “You weren’t with any adults?”
    “What does that matter? Shirleen’s still nursing— I couldn’t leave her alone. That should be obvious to anybody!”
    “Hey, Hey, take it easy.”
    “Well, whose side are you on, anyway? I think you should go. I think you should both just go.”
    It was starting to be a very appealing idea. But there was one thing I had to ask. “There’s a woman…” I hoped she’d think I meant a woman involved with Jason. “Do you know a Chris Nicholson, by any chance?”
    She didn’t change expression. “I never heard of any Chris Nicholson, and I want you out of my house now.” We left.
    “Is that,” said Rob, “what they mean by contemporary female rage?”
    “I think that’s what they mean by a fruitcake.”
    “She’s got a reason