I did indeed have a number of calls. The little red light blinked so frantically I gave up trying to count how many. The first message was from Mary Nell, who spent a good sixty seconds offering apologies and sympathy before getting around to asking about the article in the Sun. She would love to hear the details, but only if I felt like talking of course, and if there was anything she could do, please let her know. There were similar calls from Jane Myers, Patricia Heafy and Judy Wiggins, women I usually spoke to only in grocery lines and on class field trips. They didn’t offer as much in the way of apology and sympathy, but they each found their own way of beating around the bush, diplomatically tying the call into something besides Mona’s death.
Laurelle Simms had called, as well. As far as she was concerned, Monday morning was an absolutely terrible time for the rescheduled auction meeting. She would have to move her tennis lesson to the afternoon which meant that she couldn’t get her nails done until Tuesday. But since time was running out and everyone else had been contacted first, it seemed she didn’t have much choice. And would I please call and tell her why in the world I thought Mona had been murdered.
There was also a brief message from Sharon, two from Brandon asking Libby to call him and, finally, a message from Andy. He’d landed the job with Sterling Development.
As I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair, I found myself wondering how long this new job would last, or more realistically, how long Andy would last at it. It wasn’t that he was stupid or lazy, he was far from being either, but he tended to lose sight of the fact that he was no longer a twenty-year-old kid with the world on a string and an endless stretch of tomorrows. And he didn’t take well to being reminded of the fact, either.
I headed back to the living room. Although Libby was no longer reading aloud, her face was still buried in the magazine.
“Brandon left a couple of messages,” I told her.
“Good for him.” She didn’t bother to look up.
“If he should happen to call again, I take it I’m to tell him you’re otherwise engaged.”
“Tell him I’ve joined a nunnery and taken a vow of silence. On Jupiter.”
“I know about Jupiter,” Anna said, pulling herself from a slouch that mirrored Libby’s. “It’s the biggest planet in the solar system.”
I gave her a glowing smile. Mrs. Craig’s unit on space was paying off.
“But it’s pretty far away,” Anna continued, “so you’d have a hard time getting there and back in time for dinner.”
Libby laughed, Anna looked pleased, and I was left wondering whether my daughter had missed some important part of the lesson or was on her way to developing a sophisticated sense of humor.
There were only two calls I planned on returning. I tried Andy first. “Congratulations,” I told him.
“You sound surprised. Didn’t think I’d get the job, did you?”
“I’ve told you for years, you’ve got a tremendous amount going for you.”
He gave a half laugh. “But I lack focus, follow through, and ambition, right?”
I hadn’t called to fight. “We have different styles is all.”
This time his laugh was real, and good-natured. “That we do, Kate. That we do.”
“I wanted to ask you something. The other day you implied that Mona had some kind of leverage she used to force Gary’s hand in the divorce settlement.”
“That’s the rumor.”
“Do you have any idea what it was?”
“Nope, and I don’t particularly care either. Any time you get into development and politics there are a lot of gray areas. It’s best not to poke too deep.”
“You think it was something to do with his business then?”
“There we go again, Kate, different styles. I don’t know what was going on with the Sterlings’ divorce, and I’m not interested in knowing.”
I understood Andy well enough to realize I wasn’t going to get anywhere by pushing the issue. We talked a bit about his new job and about Anna, then I hung up and returned Sharon’s call.
“I take it you saw the paper,” she said.
“Unfortunately, so has everyone in town.”
“Good thing your friend’s away.”
“Michael? He’s the one who called me about it first. Seems the captain faxed him a copy.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I think that does a fair job of summing it up.”
Sharon groaned. “Oh dear, and I was the one who got you into this in the first place.” She paused for a moment of penitence. “Still, your romantic interests aside, it was an interesting article.”
“It was totally misleading.”
“Not totally. And it might help us.”
“How?”
“You know, stir things up a bit. We certainly haven’t found anything going about it the way we are.”
“Michael said the same thing, only he thinks what we’ll stir up is trouble.”
“Trouble for him, you mean.”
“Believe it or not, he seemed less worried about himself than danger to us.”
“Well,” she snipped, “if the police were doing their job, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
There was no way I could leave it at that. “I think Michael’s keeping an open mind,” I said, carefully sidestepping any mention of the unofficial investigating he’d done.
Sharon laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your boyfriend. The real reason I called was to see if you were free this afternoon. I thought we might take the kids somewhere. George is in New York and Kyle is driving me crazy.”
I looked out the window at the heavy gray sky and the trees whipping about frantically in the wind. “Doesn’t look very hospitable out there.”
“It’s downright dreary, and so is my mood. That’s why I want to get out. Libby can come too, if she’s interested.”
We tossed ideas around and finally settled on the Hall of Science, largely because it’s an easy drive and requires nothing in the way of advance planning. We thought we’d head out later in the day and maybe go out for dinner afterwards.
Libby looked at me like I had rocks in my head when I suggested she might like to come along.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” I told her. “We won’t be leaving for a couple of hours.”
She was busy stretching her mouth in an odd way I finally determined was some sort of beauty exercise, and only nodded in response. Anna and I left to do errands, stopping off first at the library. I settled her in the children’s comer, then spent nearly an hour with the computerized newspaper index and rolls of microfiche looking for mention of scandal in connection with Sterling Development.
There’d been protests by neighborhood groups and the slow-growth coalition; there’d been a challenge to the EIR, and heated debate about the rezoning of a tract of farm land; there was even some discussion having to do with financing and restructured debt, but nothing I found hinted at corruption.
Anna was getting impatient and I’d run out of ideas so we moved onto Payless for construction paper, foil leaf, star stickers and the fluorescent markers Anna had been eyeing for some time. I didn’t see the need for fluorescent color in a space poster, but Anna insisted. And although I was pretty sure I saw the ploy for what it was, I didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm for learning either.
We picked up toothpaste and shampoo first, then headed to the aisle of art supplies. Claire was at the other end, frowning into the construction paper.
“Great minds and all that,’’ I said, falling into place next to her.
She jumped and stifled a yelp. “Goodness, Kate. I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.”
“I didn’t sneak up, Claire. I wandered up the aisle, which is something people tend to do in stores. It’s just that you’ve got your head in the stars, so to speak.”
She either didn’t get the joke or didn’t appreciate my attempt at humor, because she continued frowning. “These projects are a pain in the you-
know-what. Does Mrs. Craig think parents have an infinite amount of time and money to spend on this kind of stuff? At least you’re artistic. For the rest of us, it’s just one more unnecessary chore.”
“I don’t think it needs to be elaborate.”
“It won’t be,” she grumbled. “I try to be a good mother, really I do. But it’s not easy.”
I murmured sympathy.
Anna, who’d been tugging impatiently on my sleeve, stopped suddenly. “What happened to your hair?” she shrieked, peering at a nearby child.
I had to look twice, and even then I’m not sure I would have recognized Jodi if Anna hadn’t. The loose, bouncing copper curls were gone, as was most of her hair. It was cut short, so that it hugged her head in a tight cap. It seemed darker too, and not nearly so red.
Claire answered before Jodi had a chance. “We cut it,” she announced. “Such a bother getting all those snarls out each morning. This will be so much easier, won’t it?”
Jodi nodded, though not with a great deal of enthusiasm.
Anna, who fought me each morning while I fought her snarls, stepped away, as though short hair might be catching. It was clearly a condition she wanted to avoid at all costs. “You look like a boy,” Anna announced.
“She does not,” I countered. “It’s very chic, Jodi. You look like a model.” Or more accurately, I told myself, like a mannequin, since I was sure a model would have to smile once in a while.
“It’s a little short right now,” Claire said encouragingly. “But it will grow out before you know it. And it does look nice, doesn’t it?” She patted Jodi on the head, then picked up a package of multi-colored foils. “How in the heck are we supposed to make a planet? And look at these prices. This whole project is nothing but a bother.”
Claire can work herself into a funk faster than anyone I know. It annoys me and, at the same time, makes me feel sorry for her. “I’ve got an idea. Why doesn’t Jodi come to our house this afternoon? Anna’s got more of this stuff than she can use, and I’d be happy to help both girls.”
Anna glared at me.
“That’s awfully kind of you,” Claire sputtered.
Anna bumped against my arm in case I’d missed the frosty glare.
“But I’m afraid we’ve got a full schedule,” Claire said. “Thank you for offering though.”
Anna relaxed and started gathering her purchases. Now that the threat of Jodi’s company no longer loomed, she was amenable to a friendly overture or two. She dragged Jodi off to examine the shiny stickers which she wanted to use for stars.
Once they were beyond hearing, Claire turned to me and whispered, “That was quite a piece in the paper. The idea of murder had never even crossed my mind, and now that’s all I can think about.” Her face seemed more pinched than usual, but her voice had none of its customary hesitancy. “In Walnut Hills, too. I didn’t think things like that happened here.”
“They don’t happen often,” I told her. “But this is by no means the first. Why just last spring—”
Her hand flew to her mouth as recognition dawned. “I remember hearing about it. You were involved in that one too, weren’t you?”
She made it sound as though I’d committed the crime myself. “I wasn’t really involved, I just—”
She drew in a quick breath of air, no doubt thankful she hadn’t been sucked into letting Jodi spend the afternoon in my company. “This wasn’t at all what I expected when we moved to Walnut Hills.”
“It’s really not like that—”
But Claire had already grabbed Jodi’s hand, storming off at a brisk pace in an effort to elude the epidemic of local crime.
“I’m not getting my hair cut,” Anna said after they’d left.
“Nobody said you had to.”
She looked at me sternly. “I just want to make sure you don’t get any ideas.”
<><><>
When we got home, Brandon’s motorcycle was blocking the driveway. As I headed up the path, I heard voices coming from inside the house.
“Did you?” Libby’s tone was harsh.
“Hey, Lib, it’s over. What’s the big deal?”
“It matters to me is what.”
“It matters to me," Brandon mocked. “Jesus you act more like your old lady every day.”
“Maybe it’s you that’s the problem, ever think about that?”
“Kiss my ass. I got better things to do than hang around and be insulted by some prissy fifteen-year-old. When I’m rich and famous don’t even think of coming around, sniveling about how sorry you are.”
“You—rich and famous?”
He laughed, a mirthless sort of bark. “Right, and sooner than you think.”
Anna and I were nearing the front door as Brandon stormed passed. We didn’t even rate a grunt by way of greeting.
“I take it you and Brandon haven’t managed to patch things up,” I said to Libby.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, and stormed passed in the opposite direction toward her room.
Chapter 18
Lawrence Hall of Science, set high in the Berkeley hills, offers a panoramic view of the bay and the San Francisco skyline beyond. Even on a cold, wet, ugly day like today, the vista is impressive. It is not, however, what draws the teeming crowds to the site.
Run by the university and designed by some of the top minds in science, Lawrence Hall is billed as providing an opportunity for hands-on-learning about science. Although it more than lives up to its promise, I sometimes think the real draw, at least on dreary winter days, is not the pursuit of scientific knowledge but the open expanse of indoor space where children can run free. I know from experience Anna isn’t the only one to studiously avoid any exhibit which doesn’t do a good job of disguising itself as a video game.
Because rainy days attract a particularly large crowd, both the main and auxiliary lots were full. As a result, we were forced to park a fair distance up the road, which is narrow and twisty and not made for walking. We went single file, the children between us and firmly in our grip. Once inside, they immediately broke free.
“One room at a time,” Sharon cautioned. “You come get us before moving into another area. We’ll be over there.” She pointed to a bench near an Early Artifacts display, which offered nothing in the way of moving pieces or gimmicks, and was thus largely ignored.
When we were settled, Sharon reached into her purse and pulled out the sheaf of papers I recognized as her murder compendium. She spread them flat against her lap, smoothing the crease with her hand. “Now that the memorial service is over, we can concentrate on our investigation.”
I ignored the papers. “It was a nice service,” I said.
Sharon was quiet a moment. “Yes, it was.”
I gazed out the glass doors to the open patio where the rain pounded against the pavement in heavy sheets. We’d made it inside just in time. “What have you decided about Mona’s ashes?” I asked.
“I haven’t.”
“Don’t you have to—”
She cut me off. “Please, Kate. I’ve got enough to worry about already.” Without looking at me, she shuffled her papers. “Now, did you get a chance to stop by Mona’s office?”
I told her about Ike and Eve Fisher, and the fact that they were on a cruise when Mona was killed.
“He could have set it up,” Sharon said. “You know, hired a hit man or something.”
“You’re forgetting our first assumption, that Mona knew her killer. That it was someone she not only let through the door, but may well have had a drink with as well.”
“The guy could have arranged it so they would meet somehow. Maybe he picked her up at a bar, all friendly like, then took her home and killed her.”
“Pretty fancy hit-man to be working for a guy like Ike Fisher.”
“It’s possible,” Sharon insisted.
I looked at her through half-open eyes. “Possible, but not likely.”
She frowned, tapped her pen against her chin, then drew a l
ine through something on her list. “I called the Timbercreek Lodge,” she said. “The guy acted like I was asking for national defense secrets. Wouldn’t tell me a thing.”
“What did you expect?”
“About what I got, but I figured it was worth a try. I’d certainly like to know more about this mystery man of hers.”
“Ditto.”
Sharon examined her chart again. “Another thing that bothers me is Alice. Nobody’s been able to locate her. What if she’s dead as well? Two sisters killed within a short period of time, that’s got to mean something.”
“Bad karma is a family trait?”
Sharon shot me a withering glance. “I was thinking more along the lines of a family secret. Something that both women knew and the killer wanted kept quiet.”
“It would have to be a pretty powerful secret.”
“How about incest?”
“I thought her father was dead. Her mother, too, for that matter.” If we were going to get kinky, we might as well go for gold.
“Could have been an uncle or a cousin.”
“Did she ever mention anyone like that?”
“That’s the point, Kate. It was a secret.”
“But why wait until now to kill her? I mean, she’s had a lot of years to talk about it.”
Sharon rolled the pen between her fingers. “You’ve read those accounts. Women who’ve repressed what happened to them as children, then years later they suddenly remember.”
It made sense up to a point. “Somehow, though, I can’t imagine Mona repressing much of anything.”
Anna buzzed over to grab our hands and yank us into the next room. The one available bench had been taken over by a group of young girls who were using it as a horse, so Sharon and I stood off in the comer, next to a wall-high chart of periodic elements. At a console in front, children who wouldn’t know helium from hay took great delight in pushing buttons and lighting up the squares. I was willing to bet most of them thought they were playing jeopardy.
“The way I see it,” Sharon continued, picking up where we’d left off, “Mona doesn’t suspect a thing. She invites this guy in, they have a drink or two, he slips something into her glass and that’s that.”
Murder Among Friends (The Kate Austen Mystery Series) Page 14
