I feel a burn briefly from the censure, but then raw curiosity takes its place. “What did you need to say that you couldn’t say in front of Ben?”

“He’s a good kid, but family runs deep in this town, and his grandfather was the sheriff when Caroline died. To suggest a bungled investigation would cause more problems than it’s worth. So keep this to yourself. Joe Bedecki was the easy collar, and the sheriff’s office has always liked it easy.”

“ ‘Easy collar’ how?”

“Joe’s family was poor, and he’d gotten into trouble with the law more than a few times before he landed the janitor gig. He was young, handsome, known to flirt with the girls at school. They narrowed in on him right away.”

I want to say that it’s creepy for a grown-ass man to be known for flirting with high school girls, but more than anything I want more information. And Frank clearly has more to say.

“Look, I wanted whatever fucker who killed my sister to burn, don’t get me wrong. But who keeps incriminating evidence like a pair of underwear in their work locker? What a goddamn moron. It always screamed planted evidence to me. Caroline knew Joe—of course she did. She was sweet as sunshine, chatted up all the school staff. Didn’t care if you were a Nobel Prize winner or the school janitor. But she never said a word to me about Joe being inappropriate, making her uncomfortable. I don’t buy that they were an item and he killed her over it.”

I digest Frank’s words. He’s right about the underwear, but wrong, I think, about Caroline’s confidence. What teen girl would tell their younger brother if they were being harassed? Or tell anyone at all? People tend to blame young, pretty girls for their harassment rather than the virile young men perpetrating it. The #MeToo movement has made a lot of difference, but it’s not magic. And Caroline died in 1970. If Joe Bedecki were creeping on her, she likely wouldn’t have told anyone. Except…

“But someone told the cops Joe was messing with your sister,” I say. “Must have, if that became the dominant narrative?”

Frank looks at me. “It was Maura, actually. Caroline was her best friend. She found the body, too, like you and young Miss Bergen the other night. Your family must be cursed.”

I rock back on my heels. Maura found Caroline in the pool? Why didn’t she say? I think again about the scene in Killer Queen, knowing now that it was based on real life, like Maura could exorcise her demons through fiction.

“I always thought Maura made it up to punish Joe. She’d make eyes at him, but he kept on trying it with Caroline. She was jealous.”

Suddenly, I know exactly the type of boomer Frank is. The misogynist kind.