“If I’d killed everyone I didn’t like, I’d be able to dress in their scalps,” Tolliver said.

Mary Nell gave a startled giggle and covered her mouth with her small hand.

After all this time, could an autopsy establish Teenie’s pregnancy?

“Dell didn’t tell anyone but you?” I asked.

“No one knew but me,” Mary Nell said proudly.

Mary Nell was sure her brother hadn’t told anyone about the baby, but what about Teenie? Had she told someone? Her mother, maybe?

Her mother, who was . . . gee, let me think . . . dead.

six

AFTER Tolliver and I had exchanged glances, we steered off the subject quickly. Mary Nell’s sad, tearful face had already attracted some attention from the sparse clientele. Her coloring cleared up and her demeanor brightened as she talked about happier topics, addressing her conversation almost exclusively to my brother. Tolliver found out that Nell planned to go to the University of Arkansas the next year, that she wanted to be a physical therapist so she could help people, that she was a cheerleader and didn’t like algebra. Her cheerleading sponsor was totally cool.

I was free to think my own thoughts. Mary Nell didn’t seem much different from any of the girls I’d known in high school, the girls with sober parents, the girls who had enough money to ward off worry and homelessness. She was bright but not brilliant, virginal but not saintly. The loss of her sibling had left her drifting, searching for a new identity when her old one had been shaken at its core. I could see the knowledge of her brother’s secret life with Teenie had disturbed Mary Nell deeply, until that shock had been smothered by the greater trauma of Dell’s death. Clearly, sharing her brother’s secret had relieved the knot of tension deep inside Mary Nell Teague. It didn’t seem to make a difference to Mary Nell that the people she’d shared it with were strangers.

The girl was fascinated with Tolliver. Since she was popular, pretty, and a teenager, Mary Nell was sure Tolliver would find her equally fascinating. I observed Mary Nell flounder through the conversation, trying to find the key to cajoling my brother into noticing she was a woman. Mary Nell would begin an anecdote about her homeroom teacher, realize that was a kid topic, and make a huge effort to switch to some conversational gambit she believed would appeal to an older man.

“Did you go to college?” she asked Tolliver.

“I went two years,” he said. “Then I worked for a while. After that, Harper and I started our traveling.”

“How come you don’t get a regular job and stay somewhere?” Like real people do.

Tolliver looked at me. I looked back. “Good question,” he said. I looked at him askance, determined not to answer. She hadn’t asked me.