Yes, he was,” Savich said, “very drunk. Do you know where your husband was last night, Mrs. Lewis?”
“He told me he had a Lion’s Club meeting, but I knew he was headed for one of the three bars out on I-66.” She shook her head. “He always used breath mints before he came back into the house, as if I wouldn’t know he was drunk as a skunk. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and I worried for his health. But he thought I was nagging him if I said anything to him about it.
“I went to bed last night the same time I usually do. Kane and I had separate bedrooms because of his snoring, so I didn’t know he hadn’t come home until my brother woke me up early this morning to tell me he was dead.” Her voice stayed steady, without a hitch.
“Did your brother know your husband drank?”
Glory Lewis smiled at Savich, a sad, accepting smile that said it all. “Sure, Ezra knew, not that he would worry about him. Ezra would say Kane is his own man, and if he runs off the road, that’s his business. I think he was more worried about what the townspeople would say if that happened. Did Kane’s being drunk have anything to do with his death—his murder?”
“We don’t know that yet, Mrs. Lewis,” Sherlock said. “But I have a question for you. Are you a Wiccan?”
“What? What did you say? What sort of question is that, Agent Sherlock?”
“I know it’s an unusual question, ma’am, but we need for you to tell us—are you a Wiccan?”
“Wiccan? No. Kane and I have attended the Plackett Bible Church in town every Sunday for almost thirty years.”
“Do you know any practicing Wiccans in Plackett?”
“Well, there is a small group in and around Plackett, I’ve heard. I mean, there are a few of them everywhere nowadays, aren’t there? I hope God’s grace touches everyone searching for whatever peace they can find in this world, but I’m not the kind to look for it in herbs and chants and symbols. But really, I’ve never paid them much mind. Now that you mention it, I remember my eldest daughter, Cynthia, was flirting with the idea of becoming a Wiccan when she was about fourteen. Read about it in the library. She was just getting interested in boys then, and I suggested she’d find them more fun than burning candles and drawing circles in the dirt and shivering in the woods. She never raised it again.”
“Do you know the Alcotts, Mrs. Lewis?”
She cocked her head at Savich. “Sure I do, Agent Savich. This is a small town. Everyone knows most everyone else. I remember Kane investigated Mr. Alcott’s unfortunate death six months ago. It was a hit-and-run.”
“What did your husband discover, Mrs. Lewis?”
She cocked her head again, showing only mild interest. “He found some skid marks, nothing they could identify, and that was all. Kane told me it seemed to him the driver who struck Mr. Alcott stopped completely, panicked, and drove away. They never found who it was.”
“Then you know Mrs. Alcott,” Savich said.
“You’re asking me this because you believe Brakey killed my husband.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “No, don’t deny it, you have only to step into my living room to know everyone is talking about it. Not in my presence, of course. Did Brakey kill my husband?”
“Your husband was killed with an Athame, Mrs. Lewis,” Savich said. “A Wiccan ceremonial knife. You’re aware, naturally, that Sparky Carroll was also murdered yesterday in Washington. He was also murdered with an Athame. We’re investigating what Brakey Alcott’s involvement was now, Mrs. Lewis.”
Glory Lewis stared at them. “You’re saying that Sparky Carroll and my husband were killed by the same person? But isn’t Walter Givens in jail? What is it you’re saying, Agent Savich?”
“Again, I’m not at liberty to speak about our investigation yet, Mrs. Lewis. I’d appreciate it if you talk to us about the Alcott family.”
“But Walt Givens—he’s only a boy, like Brakey. They’re both younger than my daughters. Everyone was so upset about Sparky and Walter Givens, no one understood, and now my husband. They’re saying Brakey’s had to have done it. Ezra said you’d arrested him. But Brakey’s such a nice boy, always has been. He and Kane liked each other, and as far as I know, Walter Givens never had anything against Sparky Carroll. You want to know about the Alcotts because of Brakey?”
“Brakey Alcott is not under arrest. But please tell us what you know, Mrs. Lewis.”
“Well, I’ve known Deliah for as long as Kane and I have lived here, thirty years come the fall. I know they didn’t have much money. Then about twenty years ago, they found natural gas on the property, sold off the rights, and they haven’t worked in town since. They’re quite well off. They stay mostly to themselves, maybe because Deliah doesn’t like people talking about them. She’s always been pleasant to me, and so have her sons. Well, there is Liggert, her eldest. My husband said Liggert can’t hold his liquor, turns into a loudmouth and hits people. He’s spent several nights in jail.” She paused, smoothed the purple skirt of her dress. “I imagine my husband was at the same bar and had to arrest him.”
“Was there ever any trouble between the Alcotts and your husband? Other than with Liggert?” Savich asked. “Or any bad feelings between the Alcotts and Sparky Carroll and his family?”
“Certainly not, that’s absurd. My husband was friends with all of them, even Liggert, except on the nights he had to arrest him. As for Sparky Carroll, he was a nice boy, too. He had ambition, wanted to make the catering business his dad started even bigger than it was under Milt Carroll, his father, who was also a good friend of Kane’s. Milt started Eat Well and Prosper, they call it”—she rolled her eyes—“back in the eighties.” She looked down at her clasped hands again. “I knew Sparky’s mom, Rachael. They hardly ever let her cook a meal, she told me, and it bothered her, not being asked to cook for her family. She died two years ago, bless her soul.
“You know as well as I do that every town has its criminals, Agent Savich, its share of greed and violence. That’s what Kane’s job was about. But neither of those boys are criminals.”
“Do you know who some of your husband’s drinking buddies were, Mrs. Lewis?”
“I have no idea, Agent Savich.” Her voice was prim, and her chin went up in the air. Savich doubted anyone would be talking much more about Kane Lewis’s drinking in the Lewis home.