TUESDAY
Guess what? I do know Delphi.
It took less than a day for us to run through the possible (and impossible) permutations of the Doug/Janelle/Benny trio. By the end of my shift on a slow Tuesday, we had thoroughly dissected every logical scenario, and were starting to consider the illogical ones.
"Maybe Benny killed Doug and Janelle." Ron blinked. "You know, in a fit of rage. Ex-husbands feel that sometimes, you know."
I can speculate with the best of them, but that seemed a little farfetched. "If Benny killed Janelle, where is her body?" I asked. "And just how did he drown Doug? Even naked, Doug was a good six inches taller and at least forty pounds heavier."
"I don't think Janelle drowned," Del pronounced, refilling Ron's cup. "I mean, Doug got hung up along the riverbank right next to the oxbow, but she just disappeared—without a trace? I'd be more willing to believe that she killed Doug."
Though the search was ongoing for Janelle, officials weren't putting as much effort into it as earlier. They seemed to be dismissing the notion that she was dead.
Local opinion was pretty evenly divided on the question.
"Tory's argument against Benny drowning Doug goes double for Janelle," Neil said, trying to inject a note of sanity into the conversation, "I tend to think she's alive, somewhere."
"Doug could have killed her, and then fell in and drowned," Aphrodite said, in one of the longest sentences I'd ever heard from her.
She was sitting on a stool at the counter, smoking a cigarette and listening avidly. There were no burgers to fry, no orders to take, and no reason to try to look busy. There was absolutely nothing to do, except rehash old theories and dream up some new ones with all the cafe regulars.
All the regulars except for Stu, who had not been seen in the cafe for a record three days.
"Someone on the news said that if Janelle is alive, she has a duty to come forward and help the investigation," said Ron, finishing up the last of his apple pie à la mode. "Why should Janelle hide? I think she's been murdered."
"Someone, my ass," Del said, disgusted. She and Ron were no longer ignoring each other, but they were not on their usual terms either. "That wasn't 'someone,' that was Junior Deibert, mouthing off for the camera."
"Well. I heard it on TV," Ron said, pouting.
"You could have heard everyone in Delphi on TV, but that wouldn't mean that anyone knew anything worth listening to," Del said.
The local media, and some of the minor national media, had been interviewing as many of us as they could get to stand still and talk for them. Which was nearly everyone.
"How come we haven't seen Tory on the air?" Ron blinked, teasing.
"Because she has more sense than that," Neil answered for me. "And the teachers have held to their agreement not to blab to the reporters."
"I hear they keep trying to get Debbie for an interview. And I know they've asked Lisa. She's about the only one of the reunion people who hasn't gone back home," I said.
"I hope Debbie sticks to her guns," said Neil severely. "It is not necessary for her to parade her grief for the entertainment of the state of South Dakota."
"Maybe she has a better reason not to talk," Del said slyly, lighting a cigarette. "She and Janelle were rivals, remember? And they were both screwing the same guy. Maybe Debbie found the opportunity to get rid of her jerk husband and his old girlfriend at the same time."
"Nonsense. Debbie was gone long before Doug drowned on Friday. She left just after me," I said, letting my mouth run ahead of my brain and regretting it immediately.
"Yes." Del narrowed her eyes at me. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. Just why did Her High and Mightiness send you into town with her precious automobile?"
"Well, ah..." I said, backpedaling. I firmly believed that Del should know about Presley's drunken appearance at the party. And soon. But I didn't think she should hear about it in front of an audience.
"Tory wasn't feeling well, and Janelle generously offered her car since she wasn't ready to come back to town yet," Neil lied. He already knew the particulars of Presley's indiscretion. And he knew that Del would be thoroughly pissed.
Del harrumphed in disbelief.
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if Rhonda isn't on the right track," I said quietly, settling in with a Diet Coke. "There really are an awful lot of similarities between what happened back in 1969, and what happened Friday."
"She was way ahead of us on all this," Ron blinked. "Maybe you should pick her brain a little more."
"Rhonda isn't the one Tory needs to talk to," Del said, looking Ron right in the eye. He stared back at her.
"Well, bothering Debbie isn't the answer either," Neil said disapprovingly.
"I didn't mean Debbie, though I would love to hear what she has to say," Del said, facing me with a disingenuous look on her face. "We keep forgetting that we have a perfect source right here in town. Someone who knew everyone in 1969, and who was right in the thick of things both times. Someone who knew Janelle then, and had ample opportunity to get reacquainted. Someone who, so far, hasn't said shit about anything."
"And who might that be?" Ron asked, blinking.
"Stuart McKee," Del said sweetly to me. "Don't you think it's time you talked to him?"
They all looked at me.