Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [76]
His eyes blinked rapidly, though his slick smile never lost a kilowatt. “I doubt that.”
I took another bite of pizza and didn’t reply.
“You became pretty good friends with her, didn’t you?” he asked.
“We weren’t best friends or anything, but I liked her.” At least I liked who I thought she was.
“Did you know she was the Tattler?”
“Oh sure, Ash. I even helped her write the columns.”
His eyes widened slightly.
“For cryin’ out loud,” I said when I realized he was taking me seriously. “I’m kidding, Ash. I was as much in the dark as anyone else. Why are you so nervous? Did she have something on you, too?”
His hand froze on the handle of his beer mug. My stomach flip-flopped when I realized that I hit the fence post square on the head. I laughed, trying to cover up that I’d noticed his reaction. “Ash, she probably made up something about all of us. Don’t forget, she was a storyteller.”
He gave me a long look, rubbing his thumb absently on his chin. “Yes, but her stories hurt people. That’s not what storytelling is about.”
“I agree. Stories should build people up, not tear them down.”
“It would be well for more people to remember that.”
“Yes, I guess it would.”
His gaze remained steady. “Seems to me anyone who could write the stuff the Tattler did ... was a completely cruel and heartless person.”
“I’m not sure I agree with you there. All the facts aren’t in. The whole story of her life and motivations isn’t known yet.”
“But you’re going to make sure it is.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Your face did.” He drained his mug of beer. “I’m going to get another one. Want anything from the bar?”
“No, thanks.” I pointed to my half-empty glass of Coke.
“Just remember one thing, Benni. It was something that Nora obviously had a problem with. ‘A prudent man keeps his knowledge to himself, but the heart of fools blurts out folly.’ ”
“Sounds an awfully lot like a proverb.”
“Chapter 12, verse 23. I’m not as decadent as I look.”
“Even the devil quoted Scripture,” I replied flippantly.
He grinned. “Touché, darlin’. You’d best remember that.”
I stared after him as he walked toward the bar.
“What was that about the devil and Scripture?” Evangeline said, scooting closer to me. She offered me the vegetarian pizza. I declined, pointing at my still-uneaten slices. “You and Ash looked like you were debating the world’s problems. Was he trying to put the make on you? That man sure has the nerve.”
I picked up my cooling piece of pizza and took another bite, trying not to look Evangeline in the eye. If what everyone said about me was true, she’d be able to tell in one glance that I’d ripped apart her quilt looking for a clue. I needed to get a handle on myself. My mind was beginning to work like one of those characters in a mystery novel, looking for clues in everything people said and did.
“No,” I replied. “He was just shooting off his mouth, like usual. He’s gotten it in his head that I know more about Nora’s case than I do.”
She looked at me thoughtfully. In the background, Bonnie Raitt sang from the jukebox: “Let’s give them something to talk about. . . .” She listened for a moment. “I’ve always loved that song.” She drank from her glass of iced tea. “It could be about my life.”
“Why?”
She shook her head and gave her musical laugh. “You know, life, love, men. I always seem to pick the ones like Ash. The smooth talkers. They’re like irresistible honey to me.”
I looked at her curiously and asked, “Did you and Ash ever have anything going?”
“No. At least I was smart enough not to fall for that one. Not that I wasn’t tempted. He does have a certain charm.” She swirled the ice around in her tall plastic cup. “But that man is definitely a serpent d’eau.”
“A what?”
“Water moccasin. They bite without warning, and next thing you know you’re floating in the water facedown.”
Before I could answer, Ash walked up, Dolores glued to his side. They sat