Weed Wine.”
“Tanglewood High Vine.”
“Wonder Wine!” Scotty snorted, putting his hand over his mouth a second too late.
Scotty was still laughing as Cindy set the two plates of burgers and fries down on the table. Scotty abruptly stopped laughing as soon as he saw her. Taylor thanked her and returned her smile.
“Did the cops talk to you?” Scotty asked once she had left.
“Not really. Not yet. They will. They’ll want to talk to you too, I’m sure.”
“Why me?”
“They’ll want to talk to everyone,” Taylor said as he pulled the onions from his burger.
“Dammit.” Scotty shook his head back and forth as he talked.
“I really don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to. I hate cops. I won’t do it.”
Scotty pushed his plate away, looked at it thoughtfully, pulled it back and began to pick at his fries.
“Why are you upset?” said Taylor. “Something you don’t want to tell them?”
“No.”
“Something you don’t want them to find out?”
“Hell, no!”
Taylor stared at him thoughtfully as he bit into a fry. “You’ve got me curious about something,” he said. “You know, as we’re laughing and joking about all of these things, there’s something that I’d like to know.”
“What’s that?”
“Is there anything else bothering you about this besides ghosts and talking to the police?” Taylor asked.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“For starters,” Taylor said pointedly, “what about the fact that a girl you worked with is dead?”
Scotty shook his head, holding a french fry in front of his mouth, and whispered, “I know.”
“And that someone killed her.”
“I know,” Scotty whispered even more faintly. He did not put the fry in his mouth, but did not put it down. He held it there, poised in front of his lips, forgotten, as he stared at Taylor’s eyes.
“And that it might be someone you work with?”
“What are you saying?” Scotty whispered almost inaudibly. The french fry tumbled from his fingers. “You think I had something to do with this?”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.”
“I know you didn’t do 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
