Chapter 7
The weekend had come and gone, and neither of them made the reunion after all.
Pete and John sat at the kitchen table. They’d spent the days scrubbing the floor and the walls, grateful for linoleum and Pine-Sol.
“So how did the inquest go?” John asked.
“Quick and simple,” Pete said. “Between our testimony and Mom’s x-rays, not to mention all the people that came forward and spoke on her behalf, it’s a clear case of self-defense, crime of passion, whatever you want to call it. She’ll be at the state hospital in Marion, probably for a goodish while, but there won’t be any charges.”
“I’m sorry, Pete,” John said, reaching across the table and touching his hand. “I’m not sorry Jackass is dead, but I’m sorry you’re going through all this with your mom and the town and everything.”
