Cold Blood

by Lynda La Plante

  Lorraine lied for a further half-hour, making up chitchat questions and answers regarding her interview with Tilda about Anna Louise. It was all so emotionally tense that Lorraine felt they were draining her energy from her.

  ‘I need to see any friend of Tilda’s that she saw on a regular basis, and where she went. I need to build up a picture of your daughter prior to the tragedy.’

  Mr and Mrs Brown whispered to each other, and Mrs Brown nodded her head. She then excused herself and left the room.

  Mr Brown sighed and looked towards the wall of glass through which the pool and tennis court were visible.

  ‘We have tried to come to terms with it, Mrs Page. We know Tilda was so worried about what had happened to Anna Louise. There were such stories about kidnap and rape, or even, pray God it is not true, that she might have been murdered. And as a result, Tilda kept very much to herself for the past few months, but my wife will give you details.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He stared down at his shoes, and then bit his lip. ‘Although I do not see why you are taking such an interest. I believe Mr and Mrs Caley hired you to keep up the search for their daughter, and rightly so, but I do not understand why you would spend so much of your time on Tilda. In fact, I feel quite guilty that we are taking you away from your investigation to talk about Tilda.’

  Lorraine smiled. ‘Please, Mr Brown, I think in the end it will only help me. You see, they were such dear friends, the more I find out about Tilda means I am also finding out about poor Anna Louise Caley.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I understand, well . . .’

  Lorraine opened her briefcase and took out the doll, still wrapped in the towel. He seemed not to be paying any attention, staring vacantly towards the window. She crossed to a dining table near the window, and unwrapped the doll.

  ‘I didn’t want your wife to see this as it is so upsetting, but I think you should.’

  He joined her at the table, and then gasped. ‘Dear God, where did you find this?’

  ‘In Tilda’s bedroom, hidden in a tennis racquet cover.’

  His hands were shaking as he reached out, not to touch the doll but hold the edge of the table.

  ‘It was in my daughter’s bedroom?’ he said, aghast.

  ‘Yes. As you can see, it has her picture on its face, and . . .’

  His fist banged down on the table. ‘It must be one of the help, but why? Dear God Almighty, what would any one of them make this for? It’s disgusting.’

  ‘It’s a voodoo doll, Mr Brown.’

  ‘I know what it is,’ he snapped.

  ‘So you see why I am here. I know a girl who worked here, Ruby Corbello, was fired, and I think perhaps she made it out of spite, to frighten Tilda.’

  ‘I’ll have her arrested.’

  ‘But I don’t have the proof that she did, Mr Brown. Also, the newspaper it was wrapped in was dated February fifteenth last year, the day Anna Louise went missing, so your daughter had this doll for a long time.’

  He was staring at the doll, and suddenly his shoulders began to shake, and he sobbed, awful dry gasping sobs.

  Mrs Brown walked in, carrying a sheet of violet notepaper. ‘I’ve jotted down all the people I can think of.’

  Mr Brown straightened trying to control himself, but he was obviously very distressed. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry, please excuse me, I’m sorry.’

  He rushed past his wife as Lorraine quickly covered the doll and looked after him. Mrs Brown tried to touch him, but he hurried out, closing the door.

  Mrs Brown joined Lorraine at the window and sighed. ‘I think I know what upset him, they used to play in there for hours on end when they were children, Tilda and Anna Louise. We should take it down.’

  Lorraine looked out in the same direction as Mrs Brown but could only see a gardener clipping hedges, and a small white building, the size of a shed, close to the bushes. Even at this distance Lorraine could see that there was a large padlock on the door.

  ‘My husband built that little playhouse for her and she would never let him take it down. She used to say she wanted to bring our grandchildren here to play in it when she got married, so seeing it must have reminded him. We loved our daughter so much, Mrs Page.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I understand.’

  Mrs Brown passed Lorraine the neatly folded sheet of note-paper. ‘These are some of the friends I know she visited, plus the pastor and group she went to church with. And this is her doctor and the girls she went horseback-riding with, and this is the list of the people she knew at college. I’ve put down their addresses and phone numbers, or the ones I recalled and were on the Christmas card lists. Most of them came to her funeral, well, not the ones from her college.’

  ‘Thank you, I do appreciate this.’

  ‘She didn’t go back to Los Angeles after Anna Louise went missing, said she couldn’t face it there. She said she wanted to be here, just in case she called, or made contact.’ Mrs Brown drew out the sodden little handkerchief again. ‘She had been doing so well in college, it was such a shame, but she said she just could not think or concentrate until she found out what had happened to Anna.’ Mrs Brown shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry, it must have affected her deeply.’

  Mrs Brown nodded. ‘Yes, it affected us all. Now, well, nothing will ever be the same again.’

  Lorraine slumped into the car and wound down the window.

  ‘Jesus Christ, they say they don’t know why their daughter fucking hanged herself when it’s so obvious she was going nuts in that house because her best friend disappears and . . .’ Lorraine leaned forward. ‘She doesn’t go back to college. She stays home most of the time and is nervous and worried. She’s got a fucking death doll in her tennis racquet case. Holy shit, they must really have been blind not to pick up the fact their daughter needed professional help! And added to that, the poor kid had also been fucked royally by her best friend’s father. No wonder she tied the knot. I think I’d maybe do it under the same circumstances.’

  François waited as Lorraine checked over Mrs Brown’s neat list of so-called friends. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he nodded his head.

  ‘Okay, François, I want the Pastor first. Then we’ve got to get to the first two addresses on this list.’ She passed him Mrs Brown’s note.

  ‘Yes, ma’am, church it is. Pastor Bellamy is a mighty fine man.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘No, ma’am, but he’s well known for preachin’ a good sermon.’

  Lorraine smiled. ‘Do you all lie, François?’

  ‘Who do you mean by all, Miss Lorraine?’

  She laughed. ‘Cab drivers, François, cab drivers. What do you think I meant, all blacks?’

  He gave a big, gap-toothed grin that showed an inch of pink gum. ‘I didn’t think a fine lady like you would make a racial remark like that. We hear and see things in a cab, Mrs Page, but we say nothin’.’

  ‘Unless there’s money in it for you,’ she muttered.

  ‘Unless there is money in it,’ he giggled.

  They drove out through the front gates, Lorraine turning the interview over in her mind; she was sure it hadn’t been the playhouse that had so disturbed Mr Brown, but the foul-smelling doll she had shown him. She sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have shown it to him, it didn’t do any good in the end, just added to their grief.

  By 10.30 Rosie had decided that the amount she was offering was too little. The first cab company seemed not the slightest bit interested in whether or not they had a possible reward on offer for something left in a taxi maybe eleven to twelve months ago, which would entail hours of leafing through old record slips from the previous year. So she rethought her approach, and this time took a cab to the Hotel Cavagnal. She asked if they divided up the territory, cruised, or picked up fares by phone call, and was told that they did all three, so that was not much help. What was also not helpful was that the town was filling up rapidly as the preparations for Mardi Gras began
in earnest. Bunting and flags were hung, large floral displays were being watered, and every shop window was being decorated. Posters of forthcoming events were being plastered on every available section of wall space, and the streets were beginning to throb with visitors arriving early for the parades.

  Rosie got out at the hotel but did not go into the closed courtyard. Instead she walked a block up the street. Anna Louise had not booked a cab via the hotel, that they knew, so did she walk to the main intersection and flag one down? Rosie began to note all the different cabs passing backwards and forwards. A few even slowed down and asked if she needed a ride. Eventually she flagged down a persistent one which had passed her three times.

  ‘You look like you’re lost, ma’am,’ the driver said politely.

  ‘Nope, not lost. I’m looking for a special taxi cab. I’m from an insurance company, and whoever this driver is, could be in line for . . .’ She hesitated, wondering how much would be a good incentive. Then she stopped because she remembered Lorraine saying in one of their note sessions that Robert Caley had seen his daughter’s purse on the bed. So, did it mean she did not have any cash on her? If so, maybe someone from the hotel gave her a lift to wherever she went that night.

  Rosie waved on her persistent cab driver and looked around for a phone box, she needed to talk to Lorraine.

  She called the Browns’ house to find that Lorraine had already left. She then called the hotel, but neither Rooney nor Lorraine was there. She returned to the Cavagnal and hovered outside for a while, trying to make up her mind what she should do and watching two bell-boys carrying new guests’ luggage into the hotel, departing guests’ luggage out. For a smallish hotel there was a lot of activity. She heard one bell-boy shout over to the other as he struggled with a set of Hermès luggage.

  ‘The second-floor blue suite for those, Errol.’

  Rosie sauntered across to the sweating Errol, wondering if Rooney had already questioned him.

  ‘Hi, I wonder if you could help me out?’ she said, smiling warmly.

  ‘Anything you need, ma’am,’ he said with a slight bow.

  Rosie said that she was not a hotel guest, but needed to have a private conversation, and that she would pay for it. If he was unable to talk right that minute she could wait.

  Errol pushed his pill-box hat up and gave a look around. ‘Well, what do you want to talk about?’

  Rosie tried the direct approach. ‘Anna Louise Caley.’

  He threw up his hands, and shook his head. ‘Lady, I been asked about that girl more times than I had wages slips. I don’t know nothin’ about her, and that is the truth.’

  Rosie looked away, something she’d learned from watching Lorraine. ‘Fine, it’s just that I got five hundred dollars cash for a little bit of information.’

  ‘How little is this bit?’ he asked, toying with what Robert Caley had said, what he’d given him, and what the future might hold. But a car drew up and he had to get back to work.

  ‘I got a break in fifteen, why don’t you come back?’

  Robert Caley asked the cab driver to stop about halfway down the street from Ruby Corbello’s house. He paid him off and told him if he wanted double his fare he should wait. He then walked down the road to the Corbellos’.

  ‘Why, Mr Caley!’ Juda said, and it pained her because she had such a hangover she could hardly lift her head.

  ‘Mrs Salina,’ he said, but without the surprise he felt at seeing her.

  ‘Come on in,’ she growled, and he looked from the doorstep to see if anyone was watching, but there was no one.

  Caley sat in the kitchen, refused any refreshment, his mind ticking over as to whether or not he should ask after Ruby.

  ‘My sister and niece, Ruby, are out visiting a sick baby. I am here alone, and it’s good because it gives me an opportunity to talk to you straight.’

  He nodded, wondering how much she knew and if she was about to try and blackmail him like her niece. It was all becoming too much, too heavy, and he loosened his collar.

  ‘I know you don’t like me and you never have,’ Juda said, as she poured a glass of root beer. ‘But now I am asking you to help me.’

  ‘You want me to help you?’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ve just lost my life’s savings, my nephew stole it and I have come back here as penniless as I left over twenty years ago.’

  Here it comes, he thought, wondering how much she wanted.

  ‘I want to stay on here, Mr Caley, I don’t want to go back to LA, I don’t belong there, this is my home.’

  He looked at the stained wallpaper. This is going to cost heavy, he thought to himself, but he would not show that he had any indication. He’d just act innocent.

  ‘I can’t take care of your wife no more, Mr Caley, she drains me, she uses up everything I have, but I care for her and I don’t want to let her down. I feel guilty. I feel that she is my responsibility, and that has been the rope that has hung round my neck. I used to feel that in some way I was to blame, but I no longer believe that.’

  ‘Are you asking for money, Mrs Salina?’

  ‘No, sir, not money, I don’t want your money. I want you to get someone else for Mrs Caley because I am tired out and I want to stay here, move back in with my sister. I want to sell my lease on the apartment in Doheny Drive. I don’t want to go back there, Mr Caley.’

  He coughed and ran his finger round his collar. ‘I’m still not sure I follow what you are asking from me, Mrs Salina.’

  ‘No, maybe you don’t, because you never took much interest, but you should know a lot from what Miss Elizabeth does. The way she behaves is because she can’t help it.’

  ‘I’m sure she can’t,’ he said brusquely, irritated by Juda, and then leaned across the table. ‘My wife takes drugs and alcohol like it is going out of fashion, she has an addictive personality.’

  ‘No, sir, she has a fear inside her that she is trying to obliterate. Now, you may not believe it, and you have that right, but she needs someone to control her demons. If she does not get help she will go out of her mind.’

  He smirked. ‘So you are saying that she isn’t right now?’

  Juda turned on him. ‘I am saying that you refuse to understand that your wife needs help, not from your clinics but from—’

  ‘People like you?’

  She pushed her face closer. ‘Just what do you think I am, Mr Robert fucking Caley?’

  He didn’t back off but leaned closer. ‘You blackmail my wife and hold her in some kind of terror, that’s all I do know.’

  ‘You are wrong. I am forced into trying to control the terror and what I am saying to you is that I can’t do it no more. I am old and I am tired out. She is your wife, you fleece her more than I never even begun to know how, but that is not my business. Mine is to help her, because unlike you, Mr Caley, I love her.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I do, but like I said, I am too old, so I am asking you to go back to her. I’ll find someone she can hold on to to help her in the way she needs helping.’

  ‘You mean someone who’ll feed her drugs?’

  Juda sat back, shaking her head. ‘No, sir, I mean help her spiritually, that’s the only help I have ever given your wife.’

  ‘I am never going back to my wife, Mrs Salina.’

  Juda stared at him and she felt cold, icy cold. The chill moved from her big, bloated feet up through her body. ‘Then why did you come here? To tell me that?’

  He shrugged, he had come to see Ruby, all this was irritating and now all he wanted was to leave.

  Juda stared at his handsome face; she saw his weakness and smiled. ‘You will never have the woman you want, Mr Caley, your heart is frozen over by greed. I think you should leave, I don’t want anything more to do with you.’

  He eased back in his chair, about to stand up, when Ruby walked in. She gave him a nonchalant look, crossing to the fridge to take out a root beer for herself.

  ‘Why, if it isn
’t Mr Robert Caley,’ she said as she banged open a drawer for the bottle opener.

  ‘You know each other!’ Juda said, surprised.

  ‘Sure we do, this is Anna Louise’s daddy. Am I right?’

  Juda looked from Caley and back to Ruby, who opened her bottle and drank it down thirstily.

  ‘I used to work for Tilda Brown, Aunty Juda, you forgettin’? She was Mr Caley’s daughter’s closest friend. Isn’t that right, Mr Caley?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he said, staring at Ruby, unable to fathom out what was going on and how much Juda knew. From irritation he had slid into fear.

  ‘Mr Caley is opening up a big casino, Aunty Juda, gonna be a rich, rich man.’

  Juda watched her niece, then Caley. She was confused as to what the undercurrent was about, but she could sense it, and see the hold Ruby seemed to have over him.

  Ruby sidled up to Caley and flicked her hips at him. He moved away.

  ‘Mr Caley is a very sexy man and he likes them young and fresh, ’bout my age, is that not so, Mr Caley?’

  He got up, moving as far away from Ruby as he could in the small kitchen. Juda could smell his fear, and she caught hold of Ruby as she passed her.

  ‘Mr Caley, would you wait in the hallway for a few moments if you please? I can see you want to talk to my niece.’

  Caley eased past Juda and went into the hall. The kitchen door slammed shut behind him as Juda kicked it closed.

  ‘What’s going on, Ruby?’

  Ruby sat on the edge of the table, sipping her root beer and enjoying outlining what she had found in Tilda Brown’s diary about Robert Caley. She gasped when the punch knocked her to the floor. Her beer bottle broke into fragments and she hunched up, terrified, as Juda picked up the damp dishcloth and began to swipe it at her so hard it made her eyes water. She covered her head, screeching, but then came the kicks and the slaps. It was as if Juda had gone crazy, and she kept up the onslaught until she had to sit down, exhausted. Her breath came in short sharp rasps.

  ‘You made that doll for Anna Louise Caley, didn’t you?’