Page 37 of Jealous of the Clouds
“But as the rumors became more concrete, more real, and more undeniable. Josh and I, teenagers then, had to face that our mother was the town pump. That sounds horrible, sexist, and slut-shaming.
“Whatever.
“My point is the effect the truth had on Josh. He became even moodier and started staying away from home.
“Look, I can’t say for sure that what happened had anything to do with Josh. But I’ve seen his jealous rages. I’ve seen how alienated he became as our mom’s reputation grew.
“Our mother was murdered. So was the man she was having a one-night stand with. There was an odd break-in late at night in the guy’s apartment. Both mom and the man, a construction worker fifteen years younger than she was and recently separated from his wife, were stabbed to death. The apartment was ransacked. Small things were taken, probably because there were no valuable items in the run-down studio the guy lived in.
“No one ever found the killer.
“No one ever confessed.
“I believe it was Josh. I hate to say that about my own brother, but I can’t help it. For one, his rage at mom was no secret. For another, the set-up is similar to what happened to your brother Reggie—it looked like a random crime, the fact that a knife was used.
“I doubt it can ever be proven that it was Josh. And it could well have been a random crime. The neighborhood was bad. My mother made a lot of enemies while she caroused. The man she was with may have had his own enemies who wanted to see gone, especially a wife that he’d left.
“I don’t know, but what I feel in my gut is strong—Josh killed our mom. I realize what I feel in my gut isn’t enough to even begin an investigation, let alone make an arrest, but some things just feel right and true.
“And now this?
“I hope he’s found soon. I hope he pays.” (Her voice breaks and through her tears, she says), “Despite all this, I still love him. I remember the father figure he was to me growing up.” She pauses. “But he became someone else, someone, um, not human.”
(End of call)
I turned off the Bluetooth speaker and looked over at Camille, who was seated next to me.
“I can’t listen to any more. Camille, I’m so, so scared.”
She hugged me for a bit, rubbing and stroking my shoulders. “I’d love to tell you not to worry. I’d love to say that what his sister said has no basis in real evidence. I’d love to tell you everything will work out, that Josh will move on, and he will become nothing more than a disturbing—but distant—memory.” She leaned back, a little away from me. “You know you can stay here as long as you like.”
I nodded and glanced out the window at the sunshine. I stood, peered down at the water, its pale blue color far out. “He’ll find me. I know he will.” I turned back to her. “And then what?”
Camille’s eyes shone. She shrugged.
Chapter 15
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Shondell watched as her brother exited the car, heading toward one of those hideous three-story white brick apartment building that could most kindly be described as utilitarian. A walkway and, above that, a balcony, ran the length of the building. Residents accessed doors from this walkway, this balcony. Shondell leaned over a bit more in the passenger seat, her head against the glass, to observe her brother ascending the stairs.
It was dark and starless. Winter. But there was no snow falling—only a bleak, moonless sky dyed a sickly yellow-orange by light pollution. What snow there was out there piled up in ugly, grayish-black mounds beside the road and at the edges of the parking lot. That busy road swarmed with cars and semis, even though it was well after midnight.
Shondell couldn’t imagine a bleaker place to live. She also couldn’t imagine what she was doing here, with her older brother. He’d come by earlier, saying he wanted to take his little sister out for an ice cream sundae. They’d been to Marge’s in Wicker Park and gorged.
Happy memory intact, until…
They were done and she thought they would head home, maybe watch a little TV.
But Josh insisted they ‘take a little ride.’ He drove down to the Bridgeport neighborhood. Shondell only knew of it because it was where Mayor Daley was from—it was famous for that, its working-class roots, and the back-of-the-yards kids talked about.
She started getting impatient, alone in the car with nothing to do. Josh had given her no clue whose building this was or why they were there. Shondell wondered if her brother was now into drugs and was looking to score. This decrepit apartment building seemed like the perfect place to pick up some weed or coke. But that didn’t seem likely. Her brother was a prude who didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t date. Shondell often joked that he was like a monk. When she did, he’d scowl and say something like, “What? You want me to end up like Mom?”
And even though Shondell agreed with this critical judgment, she knew in her heart, she still loved their mother. Sure, Mom had plenty of faults, the list topped with drinking, many men, and abandoning her and Josh, but there was still an indescribable link to the woman. Shondell had all these memories of childhood games, bedtime stories, and summer trips to their aunt’s little cottage by the lake in Indiana. Mom had once been sweet, before it all turned sour and Shondell kept the sweet memories close to her heart, although, these days, she rarely spoke of them.
How long had it been since Mom had even visited, let alone do any kind of mothering? Years?
Shondell stared and stared at the bleak night, wondering if her brother would ever come out. Minutes passed, then a half hour. Her head drooped and she woke herself with a sudden snore that sounded like a pig’s oink. Josh would have teased her. She sat up straighter in her seat. Her head drooped again, and the next time she woke, drool dripped down her chin.
