The Tanglewood Murders. David Weedmark
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it. I’m sure they know it too. But something’s wrong. What is it?”
“I mean...” Scotty shook his head. “I know I joked about her when she was alive. Who didn’t? I mean, except you. But everybody else, y’know? It’s just cuz she was so stuck up sometimes. Even when we thought she ran away. But that’s just talk.”
“Yes.” Taylor stared at him pointedly. “Just talk. But you said something about her yesterday, Scotty. Remember what you said?”
Scotty’s eyes bulged. “What? I didn’t say anything about her.”
Taylor nodded. “You didn’t really want to get her drunk. And lure her father out of the house for a night. Or get her into the cooler for a few hours. And you didn’t say anything about the old mattress in the pump-house?”
“That was just talk. That doesn’t mean I’d really do it.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“And if I thought for a second she was dead, do you really think
I’d talk about her like that? Sheesh!” Scotty shivered. “That just makes my skin crawl. I wouldn’t say anything like that...” leaning forward and whispering now, “especially about the pump-house…” sitting back again, “if I had any idea she was dead. You know I couldn’t do anything like that.”
“Maybe not,” Taylor conceded.
“That just proves you don’t know anything about me, man,”
Scotty continued, speaking as fast as the words formed in his thoughts. “If you did, you’d know I wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly.
Do you think I’d waste my time working here and sleeping in my fucking car if I could cut it as a criminal? And if I did hurt someone, do you really think I’d stick around for even ten minutes before I blew this fucking lousy dump forever? And if I did hurt anyone, I’d take out Caines first. You know that.”
Taylor smiled.
“So!” Scotty sighed with touch of triumph. “So that proves I didn’t do it.”
Taylor leaned forward. “Sure. Or it proves you wanted to throw everyone off the scent.”
“No! That’s stupid.”
“Then why are you afraid of the police?”
“I just don’t like cops, okay?” Scotty shook the ketchup bottle to no avail.
“But it won’t be the local cops now,” Taylor said. “It’ll be the OPP.”
“Why?”
“She was murdered,” Taylor said without expression.
“But the town police handle this side of the townline…”
“So what? This is a serious crime.”
“Get real. To us it’s serious. To everyone else she was a Mennonite.”
“She was murdered. What does being Mennonite have to do with it?” Taylor demanded. He drank some of his beer, knowing he had to be patient if he was to find out why Scotty was so afraid. “I’m sure you don’t want anyone to get away with this. It could be someone you work with, for all we know. Someone you drink beer with.”
Scotty picked at his fries, deliberating. “Look,” he said, “I don’t want you thinking anything that ain’t true.”
Taylor sipped his beer, listening. He had no idea why Scotty cared about Taylor’s opinion of him, but he was not going to question that now.
“I owe some money,” Scotty continued, whispering, leaning close to the table. “That’s all it is. It’s my old lady. She put the cops on me a while back. She doesn’t know where I am. I’m supposed to pay her five hundred a month for my kid. But she never let me see him, and I didn’t have the money. So she put the cops on me. She’s living with her parents in Brampton now. I can’t afford to pay her that kinda cash. Not in the winter. You know what we make here. Besides, her parents have money. But she hates my guts, and I gotta hang low till she backs off. That’s all.”
Taylor understood that as confidential as Scotty’s story sounded, it was certainly a cover for something else. He could not imagine Scotty ever having a job that required him to pay more than a hundred dollars a month in child support. Again, that didn’t matter right now. At this point, Taylor only wanted to know if Scotty was hiding anything about Anna’s disappearance and murder.
“It’s hard enough,” Taylor offered as he sipped his beer, “to take care of one person on these wages. I can’t imagine taking care of a whole family.”
Scotty chewed a fingernail.
“How old’s your kid?” Taylor asked “Three or four now.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Of course.” He sipped some beer. “Kendra.”
“Kendra.”
“Kendra Sue.”
“Pretty name.” Taylor grinned. “Do you have any pictures?”
“Not any more. I used to. But it was ruined when I fell into the septic pond last summer. It was in my wallet and it ruined my wallet.” He gulped his beer. “You sound like a cop now too. What does this have to do with Anna?”
“Nothing. Just wondering if you had a picture of your little girl.”
“Nope.” Scotty finished the last of his fries. “Do you think it was someone we know?”
“The killer? Could be.”
“That sounds so weird,” said Scotty.
“What.”
“The killer. Like it’s a movie or something.”
“This isn’t a movie.”
“I know. It just sounds weird to say it out loud. It doesn’t seem real.” Scotty hooked his fingers as quotation marks, “‘The Tanglewood Killer’.” He pretended to shiver. “I was thinking.” He sat forward then looked around to ensure there was still no one within earshot. “I think it was that Mexican.”
“Which Mexican?”
“What’s his name. You know, that mean little guy with the switchblade. The one who hit Michael Voracci the other day…you know…Miguel!”
“Miguel has a switchblade? Are you sure it was Miguel?”
“Sure. I saw it once.”
“You’re talking Michael Voracci?” Taylor watched as Scotty nodded. “When did all this happen?”
“A couple days ago, remember? Oh, maybe you were in the cooler then. Voracci told him to move his boxes out of the aisle, and Miguel punched him in the head. I know. I was right there.”
“You saw him hit Voracci?” Taylor asked.
“Sure. I was just coming in. I guess he was breaking down some old boxes. They were all over the floor, and Voracci slipped on one, and he got sore. I guess he yelled at him and Miguel took a swing at him. Cut his face a bit, cuz he had the box cutter still in his hand.”
“He cut him?”
“Just a bit. Right here.” Scotty touched his temple near the hairline. “Saw him today though. You can barely see it. He doesn’t have a black eye or anything. I think he got off pretty lucky. Miguel is a crazy fuck. Everybody knows that.”
“He seems quiet to me,” said Taylor.
“Sure. Ever see him smile?”
“Not really.”
“There