Page 94 of Head Room

The area around the Chaneys’ house was orderly and practical, which struck me as a reflection of Hannah’s husband, Paul.

I pulled in next to the white truck she drove the other day, with a garden patch in front of us.As I was about to tap my horn for the region’s usual greeting to humans and canines in the vicinity, the back door opened and Hannah came out.

She waved at me with something in her hand and went to a picnic table nearby.I joined her there.

The something in her hand was a baby monitor.

“Vidalia’s napping,” she said.“Don’t want to wake her.”

“Of course not.”

“Did you know I’m working at your reception come Saturday?”

“No, I didn’t.”Nor did I know what to say after that.

“Uh-huh.Going to help with the setup and the cake.Maybe cleanup, too.I can’t work much with the baby, but things like this work out good for Paul and me.”

She smiled at me.I smiled back.

Most people would ask — straight out or subtly — why I showed up at their house, what I wanted.She didn’t.She accepted.

This conversation wasn’t going to be started by Hannah asking a question.I was on my own.The flip side of that was I didn’t need to be delicate.

“Have you thought of anything else, Hannah, that you forgot to mention to me the other day at the Jardos cabin?”

Her eyes went big and solemn as she shook her head.

“Did Frank Jardos have any enemies?”

“Oh, no.”

I was tired of getting that answer to that question.

Though this one was on me.

Hannah had shown no indication of having the kind of astuteness about people Connie ascribed to Irene, the kind of astuteness that might recognize enmity, especially the deep, often unexpressed enmity that could turn someone into a murderer and someone else into a murder victim.

“He could be direct, but most people around here don’t mind that,” she added.

Hannah Chaney was not stupid.She might fall on a spectrum of some kind, one that reflected her linear logic combined with loyalty.That combination was why people could take advantage of her, as I’d seen in action during our earliest encounters.

Her husband, though, seemed to appreciate her strengths and be protective of her vulnerabilities.

You could say that’s what all good marriages provide each partner.

“Did Irene Jardos have any enemies?”

“Oh, no,” she said with more emphasis.

Connie talking about Frank Jardos walking right by her days before the fire popped into my mind.

“Did Frank ever talk to you about being worried about something?”

She shook her head.

“Or did he seem distracted or...?”

I let that trail off because she appeared distracted in that moment and she was the kind of person who needed time to develop their words.