tremble.

 

Knox said, “What is it?” Bristow put a hand to her mouth and tears emerged at

the corners of her eyes. “Mrs. Bristow, please, tell us,” implored Puller.

 

She composed herself. “Earl called me that night.” “You?” She nodded, wiping at

her eyes. “He was distressed. He sounded drunk. He…” Her voice trailed away and

she fell silent. “Did he ask you to come over?” said Puller.

 

She looked at him and nodded. “And what happened?” asked Knox. “Nothing. Because

I didn’t go over. I went out with some friends instead.” She let out a gush of

air and leaned forward, put her forehead on the table, and started to sob.

 

Knox and Puller just stared at her. Finally, Knox put a supportive hand on the

woman’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay, Mrs. Bristow. You had no way of knowing.”

The sobs racked the woman for another minute before she sat up, grabbed a napkin

from the holder in the center of the table, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.

 

She sat back, let out a long breath, and said, “Well, I might as well get it all

out.” She blew her nose again and wadded the napkin in her hand. “I told Earl

that I wasn’t coming over and…” She stopped and looked at Puller. “And what?”

asked Puller. “And that he should call Jackie.” “Why my mother?” “Because he was

infatuated with her. Besotted, head over heels in love, that’s why. It was a

bitchy thing to do, I know, but I was just fed up.” Puller sat back looking

surprised.