Pearl wilted, her body hunched over, her hands clutching her forehead. “Alice . . . ,” she said, her voice cracking. “You have to understand. I loved my sister Alice. I still do. She was good, so good. I never wanted anything bad to happen to her.” She lifted her head, and Joe saw the gleam of tears in her eyes.
He got up and knelt down in front of her. “Do you know what happened? Do you know who killed Alice?” He fought the instinct to give her a reassuring hug. The feeling of loss that accompanied the dream of holding the dying Alice was still fresh. He still felt the rawness, the pain, the grief that a man felt losing the love of his life.
“Yes, I know who killed her.” A sob escaped her. “It was me. God help me—Alice would still be alive if it wasn’t for me.”
“You shot her?”
“It’s haunted me for years. I’m afraid that when I die, I’ll go straight to hell.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
1983
Joe made plans to meet Kathleen at the Pine Cone. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but there was no way he could wait until noon to talk to her. He used the pay phone in the lobby before he left his grandmother’s building, putting the coin in the slot with shaky fingers. First he’d heard the details of his grandfather’s death; then his grandmother had admitted she’d been responsible for Alice’s shooting. Good grief, his family had this horrible history of tragedy. He’d gone from childhood to adulthood and never had a clue.
When Marcia answered the phone at the store, he asked to speak to Kathleen. Once she got on the line, he blurted out, “You have to meet me at the restaurant. I need you. I mean, I need to talk to you.”
She answered, “Of course,” without questioning him at all. “Ten minutes?”
“That will work. Thanks.”
He drove down the country road, reeling with what he’d just heard. None of it would make sense until he spoke to Kathleen. She would know what to do with this information. He himself didn’t have a clue.
By the time she got to the restaurant, he was already sitting in a booth, waiting. “Sorry it took so long. I got caught up with a customer,” Kathleen said when she finally reached the table. She gave him a thoughtful look. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better.”
Doris came with her pad and pen. “What’ll you have?” Neither of them was hungry, but they ordered eggs and toast anyway. Doris would have booted them to the counter if they tried to get away with just having coffee. They’d seen it happen.
After she walked away, Kathleen said, “Spill.”
Joe began with the conversation with his father, not even pausing when Doris brought their coffee and juice. Kathleen listened, rapt. “I went to see my grandmother and finally confronted her about everything, starting with her rift with my father. She agreed with what he told me, more or less, and seemed to feel terrible about it.” He continued, relating the entire conversation with his grandmother.
When he finished, Kathleen said, “She admitted killing Alice? That’s unbelievable.”
“Yes, but it’s also not true,” he said as Doris came with their plates. After she walked away, he added, “I’ve been there. I’ve seen Alice die dozens of times, and I can tell you without a doubt that Pearl wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. I told her I knew she was lying and that it was a man who killed Alice. I asked her again to please tell me the truth, but she just claimed not to know what I was talking about. And then I asked her whatever happened to John Lawrence, and she totally clammed up and changed the subject. Told me to call the front desk and have them send the nurse because she had low blood sugar and was having an episode.”
“An episode? Is this something that’s happened before?”
Joe shrugged. “Not that I know of. I called the front desk, and they sent a nurse’s aide down to check on her, at which point she told me I should go.” He raised his eyebrows. “I was dismissed.”
“Wow.” She sounded incredulous.
“I know. She did tell me I could keep the contents of the box. She said it’s family jewelry, and she wanted to keep it in the family. She had zero interest in reading John’s love letters to Alice. She said that after Alice died, she found the ones Alice wrote to him, and she burned them.”
“No!” Kathleen sounded shocked. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. She said something about not wanting the younger sisters to see the letters.”