And now she was gone, killed in a skiing accident early last December. Only ten months ago, and Grant had married Karissa in late January, barely two months after Michele's funeral. Except for his younger sister Starling, who had flown out for the ceremony, he hadn't even informed his family until it was over.
How could he have been so disloyal to his first wife? Where had he met Karissa? Were they having an affair while Michele was still alive? There were too many questions for which Edna feared the answers, and she wouldn't pry into her son's private affairs, not until she found a way to do so diplomatically, that is. She had tried getting Starling to talk to her, but all her daughter would say was, “Why don't you ask Grant?”
Starling and Grant were the closest of Edna's four children, in friendship as well as in age. Mathew had been twelve, Diane eight, and Grant fourteen months when Starling was born. It had been like having a second family when the last two came along and they had been almost inseparable growing up. Starling and Michele had become best friends, but what puzzled Edna was that Starling seemed to get along with Karissa just as well. Grant's sister flew to Colorado at least twice a year to visit and vacation. Edna would have been worried that her youngest child would move to Denver, too, except that Starling had a real love affair going with the city of Boston where she was part owner of a photography studio.
And what about Jillybean? Edna smiled, feeling cheered and warm inside thinking of her granddaughter, now eight years old. The family's pet name always made her think of a Mexican jumping bean, an apt description for the energetic youngster. She had inherited her father's looks and her mother's personality.
Karissa, on the other hand, was quiet, like Grant. She smiled a lot and seemed very pleasant, but she wasn't an open book like Michele had been. It would take a while to get to know her, Edna thought with a sigh.
She had been walking around the living room with her thoughts, and as she passed the large-paned window that looked out to the front of the house, a motion caught her eye. Moving to the gauze curtains, she pushed one aside an inch or two so she could peer out at the person coming up the walk. What in the world was he doing here?
Hurrying to the door, she pulled it open before he could ring the bell and wake Karissa. She stepped out onto the narrow cement stoop and frowned up at the big man. “Grant isn't here. He's already gone back to work.”
“I didn't finish talking to you,” Ernie Freedman said with his sad smile, removing his hat.
“My son says I shouldn't speak to you.” But despite what Grant had said, she found herself liking this man in the rumpled suit and crumpled tweed hat. Trying not to show her feelings, however, she said, “I'm still not certain who you are or what you want with me.”
Wringing the cloth hat in his hands with what she was beginning to recognize as a nervous gesture, he said, “Look, Mrs. Davies. Edna. I've already told you. I'm looking for Anita Collier. I need to find her soon, or she'll lose an enormous fortune. Besides that, her great-aunt will die without any family around. Please, just give me ten minutes.”
A sudden gust of wind blew the door inward and chilled Edna in her lightweight blouse. She hesitated for a moment, studying his face. Thinking of how bored she had been just minutes before, she made up her mind. What’s the harm in listening to what he had to say?
“All right. Come inside. I'll heat some coffee. You can tell me your story. That's what you said at the cemetery, isn't it? That you had a story to tell me.”
Ernie's face brightened as he slapped his hat back onto his head. Taking a step forward, he quickly removed it again and stuffed it into a pocket of his suit coat. “Yes, Ma'am, uh, Edna Ma'am.”
She almost laughed aloud at his excitement but instead put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Quietly, please. My daughter-in-law is resting. We mustn't disturb her.”
Quickly, she preceded him across the living room and through the narrow archway that led to a dining area and kitchen, at the opposite end of the house from the bedrooms. A broad counter separated the two sections of the room, and she indicated he should sit on one of the swivel stools at the bar while she poured what remained of the morning's coffee into two mugs and set them in the microwave.
“At the cemetery you told me you are a detective,” she said, waiting for the coffee to heat. She thought of the police officer back home whom she had met recently and who seemed very interested in dating her daughter, another reason for Starling to stay in New England. Aloud, she said, “Are you with the Denver police?”
“No, Ma'am, uh, Edna. I'm private.”
“Private? You mean like James Garner in the Rockford Files?” She mentioned one of her favorite old television shows.
Ernie smiled. “Well, yes and no.”
“What does that mean, „yes and no'?”
Ernie brushed a hand over his face and paused for several seconds before replying. “Well for one thing, I don't carry a gun. That's something people always think when you tell them you're a private detective, that you carry a gun. I don't.”
“I'm very glad to hear it.”
“And I don't go following people around or peeking in their windows, taking pictures. I don't go after people. Things can get messy when a case is about divorce or missing kids or stuff like that.”
“I'm happy to hear you're not a Peeping Tom, but if you don't do any of those things, what do you do?” She smiled, trying to put him at ease.
He looked to his right for a minute, staring at the backyard through the sliding glass door before glancing back at her. He now seemed intent, watching her as if to study her reaction at his next words. “Usually, I find things for people.”
“Oh?” She was surprised at his answer. “What sorts of things?”
“Rare coins, stamps, family papers like birth or marriage certificates. Whatever someone wants found.”
“I thought people looked for things like that on the Internet these days.”
“Yes, well, computers certainly have changed my job. Most of my work lately seems to be hunting down stolen property. Sometimes the local police give my name to burglary victims, and I go hunting for Aunt Maggie's pearl necklace or Mother's wedding ring. I mostly get clients who want me to find sentimental stuff that's been stolen from them.”
“Are you successful?” Realizing he might think she was asking if he were wealthy, Edna felt her face grow hot and quickly amended her question. “I mean, do you usually find your client's property?”
“Generally,” he nodded, apparently oblivious of Edna's social gaffe, and accepted the coffee mug she handed to him. “I find 'em more often than not.”
She came around the counter and perched on a stool beside him, her back to the patio door. She had learned from watching television that it gave someone an advantage if they sat with their back to a window or door, making their facial expressions unreadable in the shadows while the light enhanced the other person's features. Since she had helped to capture a murderer recently, Edna paid more attention to these small details in crime and detective shows. Not that it made much difference in this brightly lighted kitchen, but it certainly didn't hurt to get in some practice.
Thinking of her recent experience in Rhode Island, she said, “I got myself into a situation some weeks ago where I learned more about detecting than I'd ever imagined I would.” Then, regretting the momentary lapse into her personal affairs, she immediately turned the conversation back to him. “You say you don't get involved with cases having to do with people, so why are you trying to find this young woman?”
He looked at her sheepishly. “One of my steadiest clients is a lawyer back in New York. Long story how we met, but he sends business my way whenever he can. He knows the sort of work I do, but Monday he calls and asks me to locate this guy, Harrington Collier. Begs me to do this as a special favor to him, just this once, he says. Tells me the guy lives here in Denver, but my client can't get him to return his calls. Says he's been trying to reach Collier for about a week, and it's urgent he get hol
d of him, and could I just go out to the house and see what's what.”
“Collier? A relative of Anita's, I assume?”
“Her father.” Ernie took a long swallow of coffee. “Anyway, to get back to my story, I go to the house and nobody's home. House looks deserted, like nobody's been there for a while.”
“Are they on vacation?” Edna liked this detective stuff. It wasn't so hard, once you got the hang of it.
“That's what I thought at first, but when I checked with one of the next door neighbors, she told me the Colliers were both killed in a car accident six weeks ago.”
“What!” The news was so unexpected that her exclamation was more of a gasp than a question.
“Anita's parents, Harrington and his wife. That's why he hasn't returned my client's phone calls and why I'm now looking for their daughter.”
Edna didn't comment on this last remark. She was wondering why Grant hadn't told her about this tragedy in Anita's life. That could explain why she wanted to be alone for a while. “How awful,” was all she said aloud.
“About five weeks ago was the last time anyone saw Anita, from what I've been able to find out, about the time of her parents' funeral. I think your son might have seen her since, but I can't get him to tell me anything.”
“Edna?” Karissa's voice sounded from the hallway at the other side of the living room.
Edna's heart leaped to her throat. “I'm here, Karissa,” she called, sliding off the kitchen stool. Her tone came out in a higher pitch than usual. “Quick,” she hissed, pulling at Ernie's arm. “She mustn't see you. Grant will have my hide for letting you in the house.” She pushed the glass door open and tugged him out onto the wide, redwood deck. Pointing to the stairs at the far left, she told him to go around the corner and out through the latched gate in the fence.
“I haven't finished,” he protested. “Can I come back later?”
“I don't know. I need to make lunch for my daughter-in-law now.” Edna was beginning to panic, expecting Karissa to walk through the archway from the living room at any second.
“Please, we gotta talk.” He paused for a second or two, before his face brightened. “There's a Safeway not far from here. They have a couple of tables near the deli. Will you meet me there? Please?” He was whispering, pleading as Edna pushed him toward the steps. “It's very important. You gotta hear me out.”
“Okay, okay. I'll meet you there in an hour. Now, go!” She gave his shoulder a final push before hurriedly returning to the kitchen, relieved to see Karissa had not yet come into the room. Grabbing Ernie's mug, she rounded the counter, pulled open the dishwasher and upended the cup onto the top rack, sloshing what remained of the coffee over the dishes.
“Edna? Is everything all right? Who are you talking to?” Karissa's voice seemed nearer, but she hadn't yet appeared in the archway.
Edna switched on the small TV set at the end of counter before advancing into the next room. “The television must have been louder than I thought. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No. The baby did. Guess he or she thought I should get up for lunch. It's about that time, isn't it? I'm not rushing you, am I?” Karissa was sitting on the broad arm of the sofa as if she had stopped to rest before proceeding to the kitchen. From where she sat, she could look through the doorway to the laundry area beyond the kitchen, but neither the counter nor stools were visible.
“You're not rushing me.” Edna wished her heart would slow down. She sounded breathless, even to herself. “I must have lost track of the time. Here, let me help you.” She moved to Karissa's side to lend her an arm. The petite woman looked like she would topple forward, so heavy was she with the child inside her.
As Edna put a hand beneath her daughter-in-law's elbow to help her rise, she glanced toward the glass French doors, twins to those leading from the dining room onto the back porch, and saw most of the deck leading to the stairs and down to the backyard. If Karissa had been sitting there when she first called out to Edna, she couldn't have missed seeing Ernie leave.
Four
Over lunch Edna kept up a steady stream of idle chatter, all the while wondering if Karissa had watched Ernie scurry along the back deck or if she had still been in the hallway to the bedrooms when she'd first called to Edna.
“What was Grant like as a little boy?” Karissa had finished her cup of tomato soup and half of a tuna fish sandwich and was sitting back, holding a glass of water in both hands.
Preoccupied with her guilty secret and trying to decide whether or not to bring up the subject of the visitor herself, Edna was taken aback by the question. She took a slow sip of tea to allow herself time to rearrange her thoughts. It wasn't hard to turn back the clock in her head, to hear her children's shouts and laughter. Her mind focused in on her third-born child, and she watched a mental video of Grant, age five, running along the beach at Sand Hill Cove, squealing with delight as he tried to outrun the waves that were swirling up onto the shore to grab at his small ankles.
“He was a happy child. He adored Starling, of course, thought of himself as her protector almost from the day we brought her home from the hospital. He was only fourteen months old himself, but he acted like an old mother hen when it came to his baby sister.”
“Has he always hidden his feelings?” Karissa's worried look turned almost instantly to one of apology, as if she were afraid Edna might think she was criticizing Grant. “I mean, that is, he never talks about what's bothering him. Has he always been like that?”
Remembering back, Edna's thoughts stopped at something she hadn't considered in years. “No,” she said hesitantly. “He definitely wasn't quiet as a young boy.” Pausing, she went over the incident in her mind before explaining aloud. “I had an emergency operation when Grant was ten. Put me in the hospital for almost two weeks and bedridden at home for another six before I was able to get up and move around much. One day, after I'd been in the hospital about ten days, Albert brought the two younger children to visit me. The kids weren't supposed to be there. At that time hospitals worried about children passing colds and such to patients. But I was in a private room, so Albert snuck them up the back stairs. I think, since he was on staff, the nurses turned a blind eye to his breaking the rules that once.”
She lowered her cup to its saucer and set them on the table, speaking slowly as the memory rolled through her head. “Mathew was away at college, and Diane was a senior in high school, so it wasn't as much of a mystery for them, but I think my little ones were scared. That's primarily why Albert brought them to see me, to assure them I was okay.”
She smiled at Karissa, who was listening intently. “Albert tried to hurry them into the room so nobody would spot them in the hall, but Grant held back, trying to keep a tight grip on Starling's hand. As soon as she saw me, though, she pulled away and ran over to jump up on the bed, but Grant still hung back. When he finally came to my bedside, he laid his head on the pillow next to mine and just stared. I don't know what he was expecting me to do or say, but he stayed like that for quite a long time. Perhaps he imagined I was dying, or maybe he thought he'd never see me again. I think that's when he changed, became quieter. By the time I came home from the hospital, he seemed so much more grown up, very serious and more introspective. During the time I was bedridden, he took care of me as if I were the child and he the adult.” She smiled, but the memories brought tears to her eyes. Embarrassed, she fumbled in the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a tissue to wipe her eyes.
“Thank you for telling me.” Karissa extended a hand over the table, as far as her enlarged belly would allow.
Edna acknowledged the gesture by reaching out and gently squeezing her daughter-in-law's fingers. Clearing her throat, she said, “I didn't tell you very much.”
“Everything I hear puts another piece of the puzzle into place.” Karissa smiled and hesitated. “I don't speak my thoughts very clearly sometimes. I hope you know what I mean. I want so much to understand him.” It was her turn to look embarr
assed. “I should get back to bed.” She placed her hands on the arms of her chair and struggled to push herself up.
Edna rushed around the table to help her. Still feeling the sting of unshed tears in her eyes, she said, “I'll think of more cheerful stories for later.” As she assisted Karissa down the hall, Edna caught sight of the clock on the mantle and saw it was almost time to meet Ernie. It would take her about fifteen minutes to walk to the grocery store, if she hurried. She would be late, but she had enjoyed lunch and was sorry it was over so soon.
“Karissa, will you be all right by yourself for a little while?”
Her daughter-in-law laughed. “Of course, Edna. I'm not quite the helpless invalid Grant makes me out to be. I'll be fine. Are you going for a walk?”
Edna felt both guilty and relieved that Karissa made it easy for her to get out of the house. “Yes, I thought I would.”
“I don't blame you. It looks like a beautiful day. I wish I could go with you.” The young woman smiled wistfully.
“I do too, dear.” Edna surprised herself by meaning it. She added quickly. “I'll have my cell phone, and I won't go far, so if you need me, just speed dial my number. Okay?”
The mother-to-be lowered herself onto the bed and promised to call if she needed anything.
Leaving the lunch dishes for later, Edna grabbed her coat and a wide-brimmed straw hat from the closet near the front door. Her skin burned so easily, she couldn't go out into the sun without protecting her head and face. Picking up her tote bag, she stepped outside, stopping on the front walk to button her coat and remind herself of the direction she needed to take.
Edna liked her son's choice of neighborhood. It was an older section of Arvada, a suburb northwest of Denver, with mature trees towering over one-story, single-family dwellings. Several of the lots had lilac bushes or hedges along the property lines, but there were no fences in front. Only the back yards were enclosed and most of those by low chain links. A few yards had higher, wooden privacy fences, but these were mainly homes with swimming pools. Residents in the area seemed to be either young families or elderly, retired couples.
Murder by Proxy Page 3
