Birdy Waterman 01 - The Bone Box

the men and women who worked for him. Probably like he’d always done. Like he did to Patricia Stanton. “Fine,” she said. “People like you ruin the law for everyone who actually gives a damn. You killed her and you set up Tommy.”
    “Get out!” he said, his voice rising to flat-out anger.
    Again, Birdy felt her keys.
    “Wait,” came the woman’s voice from the other room.
    Birdy spun around and faced Lydia H. Derby, the woman who graced every campaign poster; the woman her husband wore like an accessory. She was a slender woman with dark-dyed hair and a flawless, powdery white complexion. She wore brown velvet sweatpants that she somehow managed to make stylish. She was the ultimate dream wife for a man with higher aspirations.
    “Lydia, this is handled. Dr. Waterman is leaving now.”
    Lydia’s face stayed calm . Botox? A controlled wariness that had been practiced over the years? Resignation that what she was going to do was something that had to be done? Birdy didn’t know.
    “This is going to come out,” Lydia said. “I suppose it should. Owning up to something will set you free. Isn’t that the truth, Jim?”
    His eyes pleaded with her. “Lydia, don’t.”
    Birdy held up her hand without the keys to stop him from saying anything more. “Mrs. Derby, you overheard what we were saying, didn’t you?”
    “Every word,” she said.
    “I’m right, aren’t I?”
    She shook her head. “No, you’re half right.”
    It didn’t track. “Half?” Birdy asked.
    “Jim did frame Tommy Freeland, but he didn’t kill Anna Jo.”
    “Then who did?”
    Lydia looked at her husband. By then Jim Derby had dissolved into a chair by the credenza.
    “I did,” she said.
    Birdy thought she didn’t hear quite right. “What? You?”
    Lydia Derby glanced at her husband, his face buried in his hands. “A couple of days earlier I followed Anna Jo to that love nest Jim kept with her.” Lydia said, stopping a beat as her husband jabbed a finger at her.
    “Shut up, Lydia!” he said, snapping back into the moment.
    “You’d like to shut me up,” Lydia said before returning her attention to Birdy. “I don’t know how special Anna Jo Bonners was. All I know is that she was ruining my marriage. I had a little boy to think about. You were about to ruin my life, Kenny’s life. I only wanted to threaten her with the knife. But something just took over. She was sitting there, waiting for Tommy or something. I just grabbed a knife from the kitchen and started ...”

    Anna Jo Bonners was dressing. She was young, beautiful. She was unencumbered by children, with a slender body that had never carried a baby.
    “I know who you are,” Anna Jo said, barely glancing at Lydia.
    “Leave him alone,” she said.
    “You mean like you do? I’m giving him what he wants and needs. I know about your type. Needy. Always thinking of yourself. No wonder he laughs about you when we’re in bed.” Anna Jo started for the door. “You know what’s so funny? I don’t give a crap about Jim. I’m looking for a good time. You might try it sometime, Mrs. Derby. Jim says you have no passion.”
    “Please,” Lydia said. Her body was so tense, she thought if she breathed any harder her breastbone would shatter into a million little pieces.
    “I do what I want to do,” Anna Jo said. She was not really a malicious girl, but somehow the fact that Lydia was so upset made her feel good. Jim Derby’s wife’s tears only served to egg her on. Lydia’s anguish gave her power.
    “We made love in his car the other day,” she said. “You ever try that?”
    Lydia was shaking. “Stop it or I’ll stop you.”
    Anna Jo just didn’t seem to care. “That’s a laugh. You couldn’t satisfy your man—how do think you’ll find the courage to stop me? Go home, Mrs. Derby.”
    That was when Lydia saw the knife. It was like an antenna transmitting its presence from the open kitchen doorway. Without another second to think it through, she grabbed it from the cutting board, spun around and plunged it into Anna Jo’s midsection. The first cut brought a muffled scream, a kind of guttural spasm of noise that undulated over the cabin’s cedar floorboards. The second brought eye contact, a look of horror and disbelief.
    “What are you doing?” Anna Jo said, grabbing at Lydia and the knife as she sank to the floor. Blood splattered over her bra as she moved her hand over her breast to stop the bleeding.
    “You’re getting what you