LITMIR.BIZ

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I loved my sister, but our interests were diametrically opposite … opposite I coherent?”

      “Yes,” Decker answered.

      She looked at Marge again, then whispered to Decker.

      “She was my mother’s daughter. I mean, understand my mother and you’ll understand Lindsey. Except …”

      Her eyes went to Marge, then back to Decker.

      “Except …” she said, “my mother is a bitch and Lindsey was Earth Mama. I mean, my sister was nice to everyone, even some reeeel turkeys—the kind that deserve to be stuffed on Thanksgiving.”

      “She seemed to have been very well liked.”

      “She was wonderful to me,” Erin said, her eyes watering. “And I’m no day at the beach. She was very proud of my head, you know. She wasn’t bright, but she was never, never jealous of my achievements. And another thing, I mean most older sisters would be embarrassed to ask their kid sisters to help them. Not Lindsey!”

      “No?”

      “Not at all!” Erin said. “I mean, I’d die if I had to ask someone younger than myself for help. I mean, it really kills me to ask Josh Berenson to help me with my algebra, but at least he asks me for help with his compositions so it all like balances out.”

      “I can see that.”

      “But Lindsey didn’t care a fig. Just walked right up to me and said, ‘Erin, I’ve got a little problem with the book report.’” She sighed. “Lindsey and I, we liked each other but didn’t talk too much. Mostly when we did, it was she trying to set me up. I wasn’t interested in the guys she’d get for me, you know. I like older men. I need someone mature.”

      She leaned forward.

      “I’ve had men in their forties come on to me.”

      Her eyes swung from Marge to Decker, settling somewhere below Decker’s belt.

      “I can handle that, too,” she whispered.

      Thank God for Margie.

      “Did Lindsey like older men?” Decker asked.

      “Hell, no. Her boyfriend was a nothing. A nice guy but a nothing. I realize that’s a value judgment.”

      “Did you ever meet her boyfriend?”

      “Sure. She used to bring Chris around when my mom wasn’t home. Mom didn’t like him.”

      “You know why?”

      “Because he was a nothing. But my definition of a nothing is different from hers. A nothing to me means empty in the skulleruno. Mom’s nothing is synonymous with no money.”

      “Do you think it’s possible that Lindsey and Chris took off together?”

      “It’s possible.” Her voice had dropped an octave and she winked at him. “Anything’s possible.” She glanced at Marge. “Does she have to be here?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why?”

      “Departmental rules,” he lied.

      She frowned.

      “So you think that Chris and your sister ran away together?” Decker asked.

      “I didn’t say that. I just said I thought it was possible.”

      “Ever see Chris get violent?”

      “No.”

      “Did Lindsey ever tell you that Chris was violent or mean or had a bad temper?”

      “No. Nothing like that. The two of them were madly in love—Hero and Leander, or something out of Bullfinch’s Mythology. He wouldn’t have hurt her.”

      She sounded sincere.

      “Did Lindsey ever mention Chris taking nude photographs of her?”

      “Yep. I’ve seen them. Man, she had it all.” She lowered her head. “I was real jealous of her looks and her body. God just wasn’t fair when He doled out the physical attributes. I used to say mean things to her to get even. It hurt her. She never said anything, but I know it hurt her.”

      “All sisters find something to fight about, Erin. That’s normal.”

      She shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Hell, I spent plenty of nights doctoring up her essays.”

      “I’m sure you did,” Decker said. “Erin, do you think Lindsey would ever do more than just pose in the nude?”

      “Like do porno?”

      “Yeah, like do porno.”

      She shook her head. “No. I don’t think she’d do it.”

      “Do you think Chris could have talked her into it?”

      “No. He wouldn’t do something like that. Nudes are one thing. Being fucked like a baboon in heat is quite another.”

      She gave him a suggestive smile. Decker ignored it.

      “Did you know that Lindsey kept a diary?” he asked.

      The girl didn’t respond.

      “Erin?”

      “What?”

      “Did you know that Lindsey kept a diary?”

      “Oh?”

      “Do you have it, Erin?”

      Again, she didn’t answer.

      “Why don’t you level with me?” Decker said gently.

      “Yeah, I have it,” she said. “I took it when it was clear Lindsey wasn’t coming back. I didn’t want my mother to find it. Are you gonna tell her?”

      “I’m afraid I have to,” Decker said.

      The girl angrily squashed her cigarette into an ashtray and clenched her jaw.

      “Oh shit! Grounded for weeks. I mean, Mom asked me if I knew where it was and I out and lied to her. But my motivation was altruistic, you know?”

      “How so?”

      “I knew what was in there—her and Chris. I mean, she read passages to me, the lovemaking passages. It was pretty graphic. I didn’t want my mom to be mad at Lindsey, you know? ’Cause she was really a nice sister. And I kept on thinking Lindsey would come back home, so why have Mom on her case as well as my own? Also, I didn’t want Lindsey to think I was a snitch and a snoop and be disappointed in me. Shit, I can’t believe she’s really … really. I keep thinking she’s away at summer camp and’ll be home any day now.”

      She sniffed back tears.

      “But she won’t, will she?”

      Decker shook his head.

      She threw the pack of cigarettes across the room.

      “Friggin’ awful,” she whispered.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “What are you going to do with the diary?” she asked.

      “We hope it’ll help us out in our investigation.”

      “It won’t. I know what’s in there. Just a lot of very personal stuff.”

      “Sometimes something very minor turns out to be very important.”

      The girl went over to one of her books, pulled out a false spine and extracted a pink vinyl-covered pocket book trimmed in gold.

      “Here,” she said, giving it to Decker. “She wrote a couple of nasty things about Mom and Dad and me. But she wasn’t really like that at all. They were written in anger and I’ve forgiven her. I mean really, I know I’m not beautiful, but I’m no bag-lady

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