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Randall, who simply shrugged.
    “How’d you get along with your brother?” Shannon asked.
    “We got along good.”
    “He talk to you about stuff?”
    Randall’s mouth screwed up into a tight circle as he shook his head. “Not too much,” he said.
    “Why was that?”
    “I dunno, he just didn’t.”
    “When did you see him last?”
    “At his funeral, but as Ma said it was a closed casket, so I guess I really didn’t see him then.”
    “I meant when he was alive.”
    Randall’s face went blank as he thought about that. “Maybe last Christmas,” he said.
    “How about the last time you talked on the phone?”
    “I dunno. We didn’t do that much. Maybe before Christmas.”
    “Any idea why your brother was killed?”
    “Because his landlord was too cheap to keep that door lock working right,” Eunice volunteered, her face rigid with anger. Randall nodded in agreement, all the while staring down at the floor and kicking at it with his toe.
    “Anything more you can tell me that could help?”
    Randall shrugged, his expression distant and sullen. “I don’t think so.”
    Shannon turned back to the mother. “Do you have any ideas?”
    Eunice nodded. “Yeah, I know what happened. Some drugged-out maniac broke into my son’s apartment and beat him to death with a baseball bat. All because that landlord couldn’t be bothered to fix a lock.”
    “How do you know a baseball bat was used?”
    “Police asked me about it. They wanted to know if Taylor owned one. I told them Taylor was never much into sports.”
    “They say anything else about it?”
    She shook her head.
    Shannon considered her for a long moment, trying to get a feel for whether she carelessly leaked the information about the bat or had some ulterior motive. He knew damned well she would’ve been warned repeatedly by Daniels and any other cop questioning her not to mention that bat to anyone. After a while he decided it was a coin flip either way.
    “What can you tell me about Taylor’s dad?”
    She took a long puff on her cigarette. “Last I heard he was screwing some whore in Alabama. That was fifteen years ago.”
    “He never kept in touch with his sons?”
    “Not as far as I know.”
    Shannon turned to Randall, who just shook his head. He then looked back at Eunice and asked her what she could tell him about Linda Gibson.
    “You mean that whore that was shacking up with my son?”
    Shannon was taken aback by that. “I take it you didn’t think too much of her.”
    “Her family’s trash.” Eunice’s mouth screwed up as if she were going to spit on the table. “They couldn’t even be bothered to go to Taylor’s funeral. So I didn’t bother going to that whore’s.”
    “Why was she a whore?”
    Eunice looked dumbfounded as she stared at Shannon. “She was living in sin, wasn’t she? What else do you call someone like that?”
    “Outside of her living in sin, what can you tell me about her?”
    As she stared at him, her look changed from dumbfounded to incredulous. “Why would you think I’d be able to tell you anything else about her?”
    “Didn’t you ever meet or talk with her?”
    “Why would I’ve done something like that?”
    He sighed, shook his head. He felt a twinge where his missing finger should’ve been and resisted the urge to rub his damaged hand. “Anything else either of you can tell me to help me find out who did this to Taylor?” he asked.
    “Not a thing,” Eunice muttered. “Besides, what’s the point?”
    “Maybe to bring some closure to you and Randall and anyone else affected by Taylor’s death. And bring your son some justice.”
    “It’s too late for that.” She inhaled deeply on her cigarette. Her expression remained phlegmatic as she looked in Shannon’s direction, her eyes still unable to focus on him.
    “Why’s it too late?”
    “Because Taylor’s beyond justice.” Her cigarette had burnt down to mostly ash. She tossed what was left onto the plate. “Only justice left is