Silence of the Hams jj-7

by Jill Churchill

  “Yes, dear. Leave them here. Mrs. Baker is only authorized to have family visitors. You aren't family, are you? Oh, here comes her sister. She might want to take them in for you.”

  Grace Axton, looking very tired, had just come out of a room down the hallway. "Oh, how lovely of you," she said, when she saw them standing there with their flowers. "I'll just take them to her room. She's sleeping right now. She'll be so pleased.”

  Jane and Shelley waited patiently for Grace to return. "You look exhausted," Shelley said when Grace rejoined them. "Let us buy you some lunch. I'll bet you didn't get any.”

  Grace smiled. "I don't think I have eaten, come to think of it. But not here. The food in this place makes me think of that old movie Soylent Green. There's a pizza place across the street."

  “You'd eat pizza?" Jane said in amazement. "On purpose?”

  When they'd walked across the street and were seated on remarkably uncomfortable rigid plastic chairs, Jane asked, "How is your sister doing?”

  Grace lifted her shoulders. "Still sedated. The doctor thinks it was just exhaustion, topped off by that awful man dying in the storeroom. He says a couple days of enforced rest ought to put her right."

  “Meanwhile you're doing her work and yours," Shelley said.

  “The work's not bad. I'm not much of a cook and Conrad found someone to help him from a restaurant that's shut down for renovations. It'll really screw up our budget, but mainly I'm concerned with Sarah.”

  Jane said, "Is there anything we can do for her? Bring her magazines or newspapers or some kind of craft project to occupy her?"

  “I can't think what," Grace said. "Certainly not newspapers. Conrad would flip. He won't even allow that little local rag in the house because he didn't want her to know about the zoning battle.”

  A perky waitress came and took their orders. When she'd gone, Shelley said hesitantly, picking her words with care, "I'm a little surprised at the change in Sarah. I remember her in high school as very outgoing, bubbly—"

  “—and I was the shy, nerdy one," Grace said.

  “Not nerdy, but shy — yes. It's like you've changed roles. What happened?"

  “With me, it's simple and not very interesting. I married a jerk and finally got up the courage to divorce him. I'd taken all those bookkeeping classes in school and found out that I was pretty good at numbers and could earn my own living. Once I'd done that, it was like a great revelation that I could control my life! Funny how some of us have to be slapped upside the head with something traumatic to understand that, while others—"

  “Like Sarah—" Shelley prompted.

  Grace nodded. "Of course, Sarah's trauma was so much worse than mine."

  “I don't mean to pry," Shelley said, "but Ihave no idea what you mean by that."

  “You don't know? Really?" Grace asked. "I'd have thought the old school grapevine reached everybody.”

  Shelley shook her head.

  “You haven't heard about the baby?"

  “I heard they lost a child, but I didn't know if it was a miscarriage or what and I wasn't sure it was true.”

  The waitress brought their salads and Grace picked at hers. "They had a child with severe brain damage. Extremely severe. Unable to survive without a hideous array of machines. Constant convulsions. It was unbelievably awful. Sarah had been trying to get pregnant for years, desperately wanted the child, had a devastating delivery that made it impossible for her to have more children. In spite of that, and because she believed the child was suffering horribly, Sarah wanted the life support removed. The hospital agreed. Unofficially, of course. But they couldn't allow it without a court order. Sarah never left the baby's side. The hospital had to put a guard on her to make certain they couldn't be accused of having benignly ignored the possibility that she might turn off the machines. So she never even had any private moments with the baby."

  “How awful for her," Jane said, knowing ordinary words couldn't begin to express what it must have been like for the grieving mother.

  The waitress arrived with their pizza and the subject was dropped while they divided it up and sampled it. Finally, after eating only one slice, Grace continued. "They had to go to court to get an order to disconnect the machines. But the judge refused to agree. The baby lived another month."

  “I'm sorry," Shelley said, handing Grace a packet of tissues from her purse. "I had no business asking about this and upsetting you more.”

  Grace mopped her eyes and blew her nose. "No, it's okay. I haven't talked about it in years and I need to every once in a while. It sort of builds up inside and needs to be let out. I had to quit my job to go stay with Sarah for that last month. When the baby finally died, I thought it might be the beginning of Sarah's healing, but she went completely to pieces. She was almost catatonic. When she finally came around, she was a completely different person. Shy, withdrawn, nervous, afraid of everything. It was like losing her, too. She wasn't Sarah anymore."

  “What a loss for you, too," Jane said. "Is she your only sibling?”

  Grace nodded. "And as strange as it seemed to others that the bubbly cheerleader and the bespectacled nerd sister got along, we were always very close until then. Anyhow, she was released from the hospital and she and Conrad took off roaming around. I guess you've heard they cooked for logging camps.”

  Shelley nodded. "Your grandmother told my mother that."

  “All over the west — Oregon and Washington mainly. Like a pair of hippies, except they were kind of late to qualify. I don't think they ever stayed anywhere more than a couple months. As if they were afraid of making friends or forming bonds with anyone."

  “—and having them broken, like with the baby?" Jane asked.

  “I guess so. Not that Sarah would say so. Sarah wouldn't say anything personal. We became cordial acquaintances. She always let me know how to reach them if I needed to. Our parents had died before this all happened, but our grandmother was still living and Sarah was concerned about her. It was the one thing we still shared, our love of Gramma."

  “My mother thought the world of your grandmother," Shelley said, taking back the tissues and dabbing at her own eyes.

  “She was a lovely person. I moved in with her and took care of her for the last year, and she was never once pathetic or self-pitying. Better than I can claim."

  “But she left the house to both you and Sarah?" Jane asked.

  “Oh, yes. I insisted. She wanted to leave it to me, but once I made her understand that I wanted her to leave it to both of us, she went along with that. She and I both thought that if we could just get Sarah back home, she'd be helped by some kind of hometown magic."

  “It still might be true," Jane said. "This is a setback, but the doctor could be right that it was mostly the strain of opening the deli that got her down."

  “Maybe," Grace said. But she didn't sound much as if she meant it.

  “Had she changed any?" Shelley asked. "Since they've been back here, I mean? I'd think the very fact that she and Conrad were willing to stay here and set up the deli instead of selling the house was a good sign.”

  Grace considered this. "I think it was mainly Conrad's idea. And she feels that after all he's been through with her, she owes it to him to do what he wants for a while. Of course, that's the silliest sort of speculation. She's never said a word to me about what she wants or thinks or feels."

  “Never?"

  “Oh, she talks. She tells great stories about their life in the lumber camps. She has a gift for saying a few things about a person and you feel you know all about them. And they came across a lot of real characters. To tell the truth, I found myself really envying the complete freedom of their life. Always a new place, new people, new sights. Jane? You're frowning. You wouldn't agree?"

  “Sorry, but no. And you might not either if you'd grown up that way. I never went to the same school for two years in my life. You and Shelley may not have been in constant touch all these years, but you have something in common that I
'm green with jealousy about — a common past."

  “Oh, Jane," Shelley said, "don't be maudlin. You know I've given you half my past.”

  Jane laughed. "Only the dirty, wrinkled parts."

  “The dirty parts are the best," Shelley said. "Grace, didn't Sarah show any enthusiasm about opening the deli? Was she actually antagonistic about doing it?"

  “Oh, no. She's not antagonistic about anything. You give her a job to do and she does it. And does it well, promptly and cheerfully. But in a strange way, that's what makes her so frustrating. You keep waiting for the spark of genuine enthusiasm — about anything — and it never comes. It's as if she's a really competent actress, but not a brilliant one who can make her character come alive."

  “Have you tried to get her to a shrink?" Shelley asked bluntly.

  Grace didn't take offense. "Of course. But she just looks at me like I'm the one who needs help and says she's perfectly all right and why would I think otherwise. In fact, that's the only dispute — if you could even call it that — I've had with Conrad. I suggested to him that she might benefit from some professional help and he cut me down like a cornstalk. No. That sounds nasty. He was quite pleasant and polite about it, but made it clear it wasn't even to be considered. And I can see his point, in a way."

  “Which is?" Jane asked.

  “That he's taken good care of her all this time, and just because she doesn't want to spill her guts every time someone asks her a question, that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with her. He says he loved the girl she was and as they've both grown up, he's come to love the dignified, restrained woman she's become. In fact, he made me feel pretty silly about it."

  “How's that?"

  “Oh, as if I were trying to recapture lost youth or whatever. He asked me why anybody would want to stay what they were at eighteen. And he's right. But I miss the sister I once had just the same."

  “Grace, I've got a frantic schedule today and tomorrow," Jane said. "But if there's anything, however trivial, I can do after that, I will."

  “Me, too," Shelley said, grabbing the check as Grace reached for it.

  “Thanks. I'll let you know. But for nowyou've done wonders for me, letting me babble this way. And thanks for a" — she paused and looked down at the remains of the pizza with an ironic grin—"for a 'decent' lunch."

  “I think 'decent' is stretching it," Shelley said wryly. " 'Barely edible' is more like it.”

  8

  When Grace had left the restaurant, Shelley said, "Whew! What a terrible thing for Sarah. And for Grace, too. Imagine if your own sister turned into a stranger."

  “I can't imagine," Jane said, toying with a breadstick. "But I'd like to. I think I'd pay somebody big bucks to give my sister a personality transplant."

  “Jane! You don't mean that."

  “Shows how much you know. But it is awful for Grace. Still, I wonder if Conrad isn't right. Maybe Sarah is perfectly happy in her own way."

  “Jane, she's in a mental ward! They don't put you in those places for no reason."

  “I don't mean this minute, but in general. If you'd had something that emotionally wrenching in your past, it would be bound to change your personality. Likely make you more quiet and private."

  “But she's shy, and as a former shy person, I can tell you it's not a happy state."

  “I'll never believe this story that you were a shy kid."

  “I got over it," Shelley said firmly. "All of which is beside the point. We set out to dig up information about Robert Stonecipher's death, and never talked to Grace about it at all."

  “I know. As detectives, we're pretty lousy. We haven't learned anything today, except that Rhonda Stonecipher is a fake person with excellent taste, a lot of money, and the hots for her deceased husband's law partner, and she had a good motive for getting rid of him. And that motive — the desire to be a rich widow — was a given anyway. All we've added to the mix is the part about Tony Belton and we aren't going on anything but instinct on that."

  “I'm not sure motive is all that important," Shelley said. "Well, it's important of course, but think about it — if you wanted to bump off your husband so you could get your hands on his money and his protege, wouldn't you plan it better? If you were Rhonda, I certainly think you would. She doesn't leave anything to chance."

  “Hmm. You've got a point. But why would you choose unfamiliar territory, a really weird 'weapon,' and do it in the midst of a mob of people, any one of whom might walk in on you and catch you?"

  “For that matter, why would anybody commit a murder that way?" Shelley added.

  “Nobody'd plan one that way, so it had to be spontaneous, didn't it? The heat of passion? Hot words, flouncing around, maybe some shoving."

  “And anybody might succumb to the passion of a moment.”

  Jane rummaged in her purse for her car keys. "Almost anybody but Rhonda. I can't imagine she has an ounce of passion in her. She can probably make love and polish her nails at the same time.”

  They paid their bill and headed back to the hospital parking lot, where they wasted ten minutes searching for the car on the wrong parking level before discovering where they were.

  “Jeez! I thought a really demented car thief had taken the old station wagon," Jane said when they found it. "What a pity it wasn't true.”

  When they were back into traffic, Shelley said, "But what about Tony Belton?"

  “What about him?"

  “Maybe he's passionate. Hot-tempered.”

  “Naw, he's too pretty. Those GQ-looking guys have ice water for blood.”

  Shelley turned and stared at her. "What in the world do you know about that?"

  “Nothing," Jane admitted cheerfully. "You could be right. We don't know much of anything about him. And with a scheming older woman shoving him along — who knows what he might be goaded into doing. She's a prize schemer."

  “So how can we find out more about him?”

  Jane pulled into her driveway. "I don't know, but if it involves attending more soccer practices, I'm out. I can hardly sit through the games without going into a coma.”

  They got out of the car and Shelley picked up the local combination newspaper/shopper that was lying in the grass between their driveways. She opened it first, as always, to the "Vital Statistics" section with the births, deaths, marriages, and divorces. "Is this yours or mine?" she asked.

  “Doesn't matter. I don't read it anyway. I used to check the school lunch menus so I could pack lunches on the days they had things the kids despised, but then one memorable day I had a blinding flash of realization that the kids were capable of opening a paper and reading it themselves, not to mention packing a lunch. It was like getting religion."

  “Good God! Jack and Chelley O'Brien had another baby. She's our age and Jack's nearly fifty!”

  Jane shuddered. "That would be like having your own grandchildren. Nursing bras and Geritol at the same time."

  “Pacifiers and walkers."

  “Diapers and Depends.”

  Shelley laughed. "You win."

  “And the prize is a nap," Jane said, heading for the kitchen door. "I have to do a big family dinner, attend the graduation, then stay up all night as chaperone at—"

  “Oh!" Shelley exclaimed. She rattled the newspaper pages. "Look at this!"

  “What? Hold it still!"

  “There. Right there. Under 'Divorces Filed.' Rhonda against Robert Stonecipher. Filed the day before yesterday. The day before she was widowed!”

  A car was coming up the street and pulled into Jane's driveway. Suzie Williams got out and moved toward them like a warship under full sail, her platinum hair shining in the sunlight. Her face fell when she saw the shopping paper. "No! You've already seen it, haven't you?" she asked, prodding with a long, scarlet fingernail at the newspaper in Shelley's hands. "I thought for once in my life I might get ahead of Gossip Central. Damn!”

  Shelley was still staring at the paper. "Filing for divorce the day before he di
ed! Talk about feeling guilty."

  “Guilty, hell," Suzie scoffed. "Think of the relief. You aren't the kind of Pollyanna who believes you divorce a bad-tempered lawyer and come out of it with anything but your second-best underwear, do you? Take it from somebody who's been there, done that, and got the T-shirt to prove it. But with him dying, there's no alimony, no nasty little settlements. She just walks with the whole wad.”

  Jane almost missed her nap. There was no way she could sleep without thrashing out this news. First she called Mel, who said curtly that he already knew about the divorce and would she please mind her own business and stay out of it.

  “I think I've blighted my evening," Jane said, hanging up.

  “An evening of chaperoning high school graduates is blighted by definition."

  “But what does this do to her motive — or Tony Belton's? If she was divorcing her husband anyway, why would she need to kill him?"

  “I can think of a lot of good reasons," Shelley said, perusing the inside of Jane's refrigerator. "Starting with the obvious ones Suzie mentioned. Oh, you're doing a turkey breast for dinner. Good idea."

  “The whole meal is Mike's favorites. We're having Thanksgiving in June tonight. What are you looking for? The cream's already out." Shelley sat down, casting a quick, longing look at the coffeemaker, which was burbling along at its own slow pace. "Okay, Rhonda filed for divorce, told her husband, and he said the dreaded words—'No money.' They argued about it all day and the flames burst out again while they were in the deli. Suddenly it crossed her mind that she'd come out a lot better as a widow than as a divorcee.”

  Jane considered it. "Yeah, maybe. But could she possibly be naive enough to think he'd just open his checkbook and say, 'Go in peace, my child'? I don't think so. She's not stupid and she knew him well. As smart as she is, she'd probably changed all their bank accounts to her name only before she ever told him about the divorce."

  “But there might not have been much free cash to convert to her name," Shelley said. "If all their assets were in stocks or bonds or something, it wouldn't be possible for her to latch on to much of it. And from what we know about Stonecipher, he seems the compulsive type who'd stash his money away pretty carefully in blue-chip investments the minute it came in."