“Really?” That fresh-faced kid I’d just met at the floss wagon and the road-worn Sam?

“Sam’s got a great sense of humor,” Tally said. “And he’s dependable. You get to appreciate things like that when you’re out here on the road.”

“Who else didn’t like Polly?”

“Well, you heard Skee. No love lost there. She didn’t think he did all he could for Irene before she died and she got mad because Irene was barely in the ground good before he moved another woman into their doublewide, somebody who took him for almost everything he and Irene’d built up together. By the time that little possum belly queen did a rake ‘em and scrape ‘em on him, all he had left was his camper truck and his Lucky Ducky. And Polly wasn’t above rubbing it in about what a jackass he’d been. Like some juicy young thing was going to love him for himself alone.”

My nose wrinkled as I thought of the woman who could crawl in beside Skee Matusik’s scrawny body or kiss that nearly toothless mouth. “Some men don’t ever take a good look in the mirror. Don’t you reckon she earned whatever she got from him?”

Tally sighed. “Maybe she did. But when I think how hard it was for Irene out here on the road with her bad heart and all, and then to have some little whore walk away with everything she’d worked for? I tell you, if it hadn’t been for Braz, we wouldn’t have let Skee book in with us this season. But Irene was good to him and he knew she’d feel bad if Skee went down the slop chutes, so he talked me into it.”

“Anybody else have problems with Polly?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment and I didn’t push it. Just kept scrubbing.

“Oh, well, hell, doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Your deputy’s probably snapped to it already. It was Braz, okay? They didn’t get along worth a damn. And don’t ask me why. I don’t think it was over Skee, though, ‘cause he used to razz Skee about that little bitch, too. Braz was another that thought women couldn’t resist him. Maybe he came on to her and she slapped him down too hard? I didn’t ask and they didn’t bring it to Arn or me. Sometimes it’s better not to know stuff when you’re going to be living this close with somebody for the season.”

She sighed. “Val and me, we went over and picked out his casket this afternoon. The last thing we’ll ever do for him. Poor Braz. I should have made more time for him. Been a better mother.”

All I could do was make consoling noises. There are never any easy words.

By now, the wagon was almost spotless. I rinsed out the dishcloth I’d been using, then went and dumped the bucket in the weeds behind a shuttered balloon-bust stand while Tally turned off the lights and closed down the flaps.