Scott & Skeeter Knolls
Scott was born three minutes before his brother, and he never let Skeeter forget who was older. Besides having a few minutes between them, the brothers had pretty similar personalities. They were both quiet men who didn’t have a whole lot to say. Always had been. They both liked to fish and hunt and work with their hands. That’s why they ended up opening their own auto-repair business. Cars and trucks didn’t talk, didn’t gossip about who was sleeping with who, didn’t nag them about what they were wearing, didn’t say boo. A good day was working under the hood of a Ford Mustang and fixing what needed to be fixed.
They were identical twins, and most folks around town had a hard time telling them apart, especially back in high school when they both wore blue jeans and red flannel shirts. Both stood an inch over six feet. Both weighed exactly one hundred and ninety-five pounds. Full heads of black hair, parted down the middle and feathered off to the sides, hadn’t turned gray yet. Neither one of them smiled much, looking like they were perpetually pissed off about something. Seemed like the only time you could catch them smiling was when they were off by themselves and feeling the easy comfort of being in each other’s company. Partly because they got tired of being mistaken for each other, Scott grew a mustache that had a hint of red in it, especially out in the sun. Skeeter opted for the full beard and kept it trimmed nice and short, using a pair of clippers every other day or so.
Neither one of them took to drinking either. They could thank their old man for that. Son of a bitch was a lousy drunk and a lousy father. When their mother told them what had happened out at Mindy’s trailer, they both knew he probably had it coming. He would have killed the sheriff and then turned the gun on the state trooper. Scott and Skeeter didn’t have to discuss this fact. They knew that’s what the other one was thinking. Twins were that way.
Mindy, on the other hand, didn’t deserve what she got. Sure, she was a bit too wild and too old to not be married and settled down, and she ran around with the wrong kind of men and partied a little more than she should. Pretty harmless stuff, but if she did what a sensible young woman was supposed to, she’d be taking care of a home and raising kids, not living alone in a shitty trailer. Neither one of them much cared for the deputy—he was bad news. Always had an edge to him. He was the kind of guy who would screw around on his wife. They thought Mindy could do better than him and told her as much, but for some reason she was drawn to the man and probably would have ended up marrying him. But Sokowski didn’t turn out to be the problem—that turned out to be Danny Bedford.
Scott pulled his truck up in front of the Wash ’N Dry and left the motor running. They got out and walked up to the front door, their stride and body language exactly the same. Both of them wore green work coveralls stained with car and truck grease, oval name patches above the breast that specified who was Scott and who was Skeeter.
“Think it’s open?” Skeeter said out loud.
Scott didn’t answer. He pushed on the glass door, and it swung open. They looked down Main Street to see if anybody else was around. It was a little before seven, and none of the businesses were open yet. Just a handful of cars were parked on the street, but it was all pretty quiet.
They stepped into the laundromat and moved toward the steps in the back that led upstairs. Neither one of them had ever been inside the laundromat before, but everybody knew that Danny lived upstairs. They took the steps two at a time, Scott taking the lead, and pushed open the door to Danny’s room. The bed was unmade, and the room was pretty sparse and depressing.
Skeeter looked around the room at all of Danny’s stuff. He noticed all the wooden figurines on the dresser and picked one up. A green turtle with a little smiley face. It looked like a collection of kids’ knickknacks. Being in here was tougher than he thought it would be. Seeing where his sister’s killer had lived and slept and planned her murder made him feel like throwing up his breakfast. Skeeter’s hands trembled as he turned the wooden turtle over in his palm.
Son of a bitch. Mindy was the only one around here who was nice to you, and you go and kill her.
“Don’t mess with that crap. We ain’t here for that.” Scott avoided looking at Skeeter but knew that his brother was close to tears. He wanted to stay focused. There would be time for tears later. Not right now.
Skeeter nodded and returned the turtle to Danny’s dresser, then opened up the drawers one at a time. A couple pair of mismatched socks, a pair of undershorts, and that was about it. He checked the closet next. A few shirts hung off hangers. He gazed over at his brother and shook his head.
“All his shit looks washed and clean. Ain’t gonna help us none.”
Scott fiddled with his mustache for a second as he glanced around the room until he found what he was looking for. He walked over to Danny’s bed and picked up a pillow. He shook out the pillow and held on to the stained and threadbare pillowcase. He clutched it in his fist and looked to Skeeter.
“This’ll do. Let’s get the dogs,” Scott said quietly.
Skeeter nodded. He took one final glance at the green turtle on the dresser, then followed his brother out of the room.
