He stared into his coffee cup. “I never got a whipping when I was little. Can you imagine that? Not one spanking. Neither of them ever laid a hand on me. Oh, they did Alex, my older brother. They really laid into him at times. But never me. Hey, I thought, this is all right. For a while. Then I realized it was because they just didn’t care. It was as simple as that, really. Alex was their pick. I wasn’t. Not that I didn’t try to get their attention. Especially Pop’s. I played football and baseball, ran track, wrestled. I excelled in everything. But it was never enough. So I tried to get his attention in other ways. I excelled in trouble. I ran with the wrong crowd, I stole, you know, that whole sob story. Still nothing from Pop. Well, finally, after Mom had died, I was grabbed for some pretty serious stuff, assault and a few other things. So here comes Pop down to the station and I was never so glad to see him because I think, hey, he’s finally looking at me, right, and he’s going to bail me out. Well, he looked at me, all right, eye to eye. And he says to me, ‘You can rot in there. You’re no son of mine.’ Not exactly what you want to hear from your pop, you know?” Billie was silent. “Mom died when I was what, fourteen or so. Pop, he might still be alive. I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything to the contrary. Hell, I think he’s too ornery to die. Alex keeps saying I ought to look for him and get all of this off my chest but . . .” He shook his head. “After all this time I guess I don’t really give a shit.”

“How do you get along with your brother?”

“Not very well,” he sighed and drained his cup. “He’s been dead for a while now.”

Billie was shaken. “Oh, Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . it’s just that you said . . .”

“It’s okay,” he squeezed her hand. “He was killed while I was in Vietnam.”

“Killed? Was it an accident, or . . .”

“He was murdered.”

She pondered that a minute, then fought off a sudden chill. “Lordy. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who was murdered. It kinda gives you the creeps.” She trembled again and he put an arm around her shoulders. “That’s one good thing about a town like Isherwood. No one ever gets murdered around here. Bored, maybe, but never murdered.” She waited for him to continue but he didn’t. “Is that all?”

“You want me to make something up?”

“It’s an idea. What about marriage?”

“Billie, we just met. . . .”

“You know what I mean, wise guy. Were you ever married?”

He thought for a moment. “Not that I can recollect.”

“Chris, I’m serious.”