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board up until February. She tried to ban some books—real bits of trash like
The Color Purple, Huckleberry Finn
, and
The Scarlet Letter
—and the board got fed up with her. They booted her out. She turned in her key and I had the locks changed.”
    “Y’all always do that when a member leaves the library board?” Junebug raised an eyebrow at me.
    “No, of course not. But I felt that, considering the …uh, extremity of her views regarding certain books here, it would be appropriate to limit her access to business hours.” God, I sounded like an official report.
    “That’s interesting. We found a key in her pocket, separate from her key ring.” He pulled a plastic bag from a large paper bag next to his feet. “Is this a library key, Jordy?”
    “Yeah, looks just like mine.” I produced my key from my pocket.
    “I wonder how she got this,” Junebug said, thinking aloud. He did that back in school and used to drive our teachers nuts.
    “I don’t know,” I answered. “Not from me.”
    Junebug gnawed at the end of his pen. “I understand you had a little run-in with her yesterday.”
    My gut churned, as if I’d just narrowly avoided stepping into an elevator shaft. Before I knew it I was sliding my palms down my jeans, drying them of sweat.
    “Miz Harcher threw herself a hissy fit in the library over what she considered porn and whacked me upside the head with a book. She left, or rather was shown the door.”
    “Made some comments, didn’t she? About shutting down the library?”
    “Look, Junebug, you already seem to know the answer to that question. You’ve already heard the gossips’ version. Yeah, she did just that. How’d you know and what’s your point?”
    “I have my sources,” he said loftily. “And my point is I got a dead woman here. You argued with her just yesterday, Jordy. I have to ask these questions.”
    My temper decided to make an appearance. It’s one of the finer Poteet family traits. “You can’t seriously think I killed her, can you? For God’s sake!” My voicesounded alien to me, still deep and drawly, but saying words I never thought I’d say.
    “Jordy, I have to ask. Would you like an attorney present?”
    I swallowed. “You can’t think I killed her, Junebug. That’s crazy.”
    “Do you want an attorney now, or will you answer further questions?”
    I bristled. My Uncle Bid was an attorney, but summoning him might be more unpleasant than being hauled off to jail. I made myself calm down. “Go ahead. I have nothing to conceal and I want to cooperate, Junebug.”
    Junebug sat and stared at me for a full minute. It was unnerving, but I resolved not to let it bother me. I pulled my blanket of outraged innocence closer about me. He pulled a loose page from his notepad. It was light blue stationery.
    “This list mean anything to you?”
    He handed me the paper, and I saw his eyes dart to see if my hands were steady. I willed them to stillness. The list was written in Beta’s spidery handwriting; I recognized it from the notes she used to send the library when she was on the board. I tried not to drop the paper as I reached the end of the list:
    Tamma Hufnagel–Num. 32:23
Hally Schneider–Prov. 14:9
Jordan Poteet–Isaiah 5:20
Eula Mae Quiff–Job 31:35
Matt Blalock–Matt. 26:21
Ruth Wills–2 Kings 4:40
Bob Don Goertz–Judges 5:30
Anne Poteet–Gen. 3:16
    Mama? What the hell was she doing on a list written by some religious zealot who’d been murdered? Names with Bible quotes next to them. What was this list even for? Invitees to a revival meeting? I didn’t think so. I took a long draw on my now-stubby cigarette and committed the names and quote numbers to memory as best I could. I used to do that with sales figures on my books at the textbook publishers’ before I had to confer with my jerk of a boss, so I had a quick memory.
    “The list doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “But I know all these folks. Miz Quiff, Miz Wills, and Mrs. Hufnagel were