The Colors of Hate - 31

Mrs. Nester thanked Dean, taking a sip of her drink. “I should slow down I guess,” she told him wryly. “One of us has to be sober enough to drive home.”

“That’s what cabs are for.”

“I suppose. I have a question for you, and you don’t have to answer it. Well, probably you can’t answer but I’ll ask anyway. Do you think the police have any idea who killed Angela?”

“You’re right, I can’t answer, because I don’t know. I just wish they’d hurry up and figure it out. I hate feeling like any second they’re going to pounce on one of us with handcuffs in hand.”

“Well at least I know they can’t suspect Frank. He was dead to the world. I told the one policeman that. He came home, took his pills and went right to bed.”

“And slept through the night?”

She nodded, taking another drink. “Between the pills and what he’d had to drink nothing could have awakened him.”

“So he went to a bar before he came home?”

Her mouth tightened. “So he said.”

“You don’t sound like you believed him,” Dean commented softly.

“I didn’t. But I guess I was wrong because I found out later that…” She drew in a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Dean took her hand when she started to reach for her glass again. “What doesn’t matter, Beth?”

“That bitch was at the club, and everyone saw her there.”

“Angela?”

“Yes,” she hissed out angrily. “The bitch he was screwing every chance he got. Him, and any other man she could get her hands on. She deserved to die. Playing with all the men there, and then going off with that man like the whore she was. But she found out she picked the wrong one. He didn’t really want her; he just wanted to talk to her in private.”

“Beth,” Dean said, suddenly understanding, “How did you know that?”

“I… I…”

“You were there, weren’t you?” he asked quietly. “You followed her. Why? To find out if Frank had been with her?”

Tears began streaming down her face. “I just wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He’s my husband. She had no right. No right at all. But she laughed at me.”

“Where?”

“In the park, where they found her. That’s where that man took her to talk. They were arguing and he hit her and left her there. So I…went over to…to help her. To talk to her. And she laughed at me.”

“So you killed her.”

“I didn’t mean to.” She buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean to. Someone… There was a bat there that someone had left behind. When she laughed I picked it up and hit her to stop her.”

Dean put his arm around her. “Beth, I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. But Beth, you have to tell the police.”

Her voice was weak and almost childlike as she asked. “Why?”

“I think you know why.”

She nodded slowly, still looking at him. “Will you… Could you go with me? Please?”

Dean hesitated, glancing at Frank. He realized the man was so absorbed in Tayla, and now two more women who were also with him, that he couldn't have cared less about his wife and the fact she was even in the room. “Yes, of course.” Dean stood, offering his hand.

She took it hesitantly and got up. Slowly they made their way to the door. Dean took one more look at Frank—a disgusted, angry look this time—before he and Mrs. Nester left.