W Is for Wasted

Ethan’s friend. She’d been to the house more than once.”
    “So what?”
    “I could see Terrence took a shine to her. I never had any proof, but I wasn’t at all shocked when the police came to the door and asked to speak to him. He looked terrible. His skin was gray. He was sweating and his hands shook. That’s not the demeanor of an innocent man.”
    Mamie looked at her mother-in-law with disbelief. “Are you serious? He shook and turned gray anytime a drink was overdue.”
    Evelyn was still focused on me. “I don’t know where in the world you got the idea I turned the children against him. I’d never do such a thing,” she said.
    “I heard it from Anna. She told me last night.”
    “Told you what?” Mamie asked, annoyed at being out of the loop.
    “Nothing,” Evelyn said.
    This was beginning to feel like politics, consisting as it did almost entirely of finger-pointing and accusations.
    I turned to Mamie. “Anna told me the day her father called to say he’d been released, Evelyn confessed that she lied on the witness stand. She said he went out that night and was gone until the wee hours.”
    Mamie looked at Evelyn with dismay. “You did that?”
    I said, “Oh, yes, indeed. She also told the three of them not to mention it to anyone for fear she’d be charged with perjury, which is a criminal act. Ask Ethan. He’ll tell you the same thing. Ellen, too.”
    Mamie was staring at her mother-in-law. “I don’t believe it. You said he was there at the house when he wasn’t?”
    I wagged a finger, correcting her. “It was the other way around. She told the truth on the witness stand and lied about it later.”
    “But why would she do that? She’d have to be nuts.”
    Evelyn leaned toward me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Were you there?”
    “Of course I wasn’t, but I’ll tell you who was. An hour ago I talked to Lolly Brandle.”
    Mamie wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Who?”
    “The woman who lived next door to Evelyn and Terrence back then. She was at the Daces’ house the night Karen Coffey disappeared. She says Terrence was home the entire evening except for a brief trip to the store to pick up ice cream.”
    Evelyn’s tone was prim. “You can hardly credit her account. She has dementia.”
    “She may not remember what happened yesterday, but she remembers that night, right down to the flavor of the ice cream he went out to buy. Here’s a question for you, Evelyn. Who was the president of the United States at that time?”
    “I have no idea. How is that relevant?”
    “Because Lolly knows. I asked her the same thing and her memory is as clear as a bell. Richard Nixon.”
    “I can see you’re determined to take her word over mine,” she said. “I’ve been to visit her twice. She has no idea who I am and I’ve known her twenty-five years. Besides which, how do you know she isn’t lying for reasons of her own?”
    “Because the pastor of your church was also there with his wife. I’d be happy to track them down, and I’ll bet you they’ll back Lolly Brandle. Are you going to call them liars as well?”
    “I did not commit a crime.”
    “I know you didn’t. You told Ethan and Ellen and Anna you lied on the stand when you actually told the truth in court. Later, you insinuated that Terrence went out that night and had a hand in that girl’s death. You didn’t accuse him outright. You undercut his credibility and you did such a fine job of it that Ethan and Anna were completely alienated from their dad. And still are, for that matter.”
    “Accuse me of anything you like. You have no proof and there’s nothing you can do about it even if you did.”
    “You got me on that one. At least Mamie knows now and we’ll see what she does with it.”

22
    The meeting faltered to a close and we parted company. Verbal clashes seldom come to a satisfying end. They peter out in weak retorts that leave you wishing you’d been as clever in the moment as you are in reviewing the conversation later. I hadn’t scored even one decisive point and none of us had altered our positions in the slightest. I was glad I’d met Evelyn because I had a better sense now of who she was and how she operated.
    Poor Dace. I’d formed a ragged picture of his life, joining fragments like a reel of film spliced together with all the big scenes missing. The storyline was there but the point was lost. The meaning of life (assuming there is one . . .) is the glue we use to