I ignored the jab and pulled up a chair. Besides Susie, only three other advisory board members were present. Not a sufficient number for making any momentous decisions, but at least there would be enough muffins.
“Sorry I’m late, the police wanted to ask me some questions.”
“The police?” A look of dismay, which she didn’t even try to disguise, crossed Mary Nell's face. But then Mary Nell was often dismayed. She and her husband moved here from Kansas last fall, and though the transfer was a promotion, she made it clear this was not a move which pleased her. I couldn’t see how anyone would prefer Kansas to California but then, as Mary Nell was fond of reminding me, I have never been to Kansas.
“About Pepper.”
“Oh God, I forgot. You two are neighbors, or rather, were neighbors.” Cindi Hanson reached for a muffin as she spoke. “What did they want? Who do they think did it? Do they have any leads?”
Cindi speaks a mile a minute, in a tight, clipped voice, and often jumps from subject to subject so that she’s hard to follow. But she sometimes answers her own questions, or ignores them and rattles on about something else, so I waited for a moment before speaking.
Four faces, including Cindi’s, watched me eagerly, so I told them what I knew. When I had finished Mary Nell said, “This is just so terrible. How does something like that happen?”
“Simple,” replied Sharon. “You take a cord, pull it tight across the throat . . . and voila—you’ve killed someone.”
“That’s disgusting. Anyway. I meant why. Who would want to kill Pepper?”
Susie examined her nails, which were long and frosted in iridescent pink. “I can think of quite a few people.”
“That’s not funny,” I told her.
“Who says I was being funny? Pepper never thought about anyone but herself. You never had to work with her, so you don’t know what a pain in the ass she could be.”
I didn’t know if this was intended as another snub directed my way or simply a statement of fact. The Benefit Guild, the country club, and other such trappings of upper-crust life were much beyond my reach. True, Anna went to Walnut Hills Montessori, which was the preschool for parents who wanted to give their child an edge in life—you need the right connections to even get on the waiting list—but that was only because Daria was a good friend of the director, and when Daria takes it upon herself to be helpful, she goes all the way. Outside of school, I almost never crossed paths with any of the other mothers.
“Maybe Robert got tired of supporting her extravagant lifestyle,” Cindi offered, and then giggled.
“Pepper sure could go through the money. I once heard Robert arguing with her about it.” Susie took a short breath and looked around the table. “He’s such a sweet man. I don’t think Pepper ever appreciated what a gem of a husband she had.”
“Is that the same as wealthy?” Sharon asked.
Susie glared at Sharon momentarily and then lifted her hair off her neck, letting it fall forward over her shoulders. “I wonder how he’s holding up? I’ll have to call him. Or maybe a short visit.” Susie was in the final stages of divorce number two and well into the search phase for husband number three. It was clear that Robert had now been added to her list of potential candidates.
“I don’t know him well, of course,” Mary Nell said hesitantly, “but he always seemed very nice to me. The kind of man who’d be happy to give his wife whatever she wanted.”
“Pepper must have had plenty of her own money, you know. Family money. I don’t see why she had to bleed poor Robert.” It was poor Robert already. Susie didn’t miss a cue.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Cindi commented.
“On what?” I asked.
“On Pepper having money of her own.” Cindi looked around to make sure everyone was listening. “I think Pepper was full of shit. She certainly didn’t go to Smith as she claimed, and I doubt that she grew up on Long Island either, at least not the same Long Island I grew up on.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She knew a few key names, but none of the local lore. Whenever I’d catch her in some inaccuracy, she’d change the subject or make some cute remark about having a mind like a sieve. Besides, she had a tattoo on her butt, and Smith women do not have tattoos. Anywhere.”
By the time we’d spent half an hour talking about Pepper, and eaten all the muffins, we decided it would be silly to make any school decisions with so few of us present, so we picked a date for the next meeting and adjourned.
On the way out Mary Nell caught up with me and said, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure.” We sat on one of the long wooden benches in front of the school. “What’s up?”
“It’s about Pepper.”
I waited.
“I don’t want to be a gossip or anything . . .”
That was one thing Mary Nell could never be accused of. “Get on with it,” I said.
“Remember the Patersons’ party last week where . . . And then she looked embarrassed. “I guess you weren’t able to make it that night.”
Especially since I hadn’t been invited. “You know how busy things get this time of year.”
She nodded. “Well, when I went upstairs to use the phone—I wanted to make sure Danny was okay with the new baby sitter—I found Pepper spread out on the Patersons’ bed. At first I thought she might be asleep, or drunk, but then I saw she was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling. It was kind of embarrassing really. I didn’t want to intrude, but I did need to use the phone, so I asked her if everything was okay. She looked at me like I had two heads. ‘Everything okay? That’s a good one. How about nothing’s okay, everything sucks.’ Then she got sort of hysterical, half laughing, half crying, and started pounding the pillow with her fists.”
Mary Nell was opening and closing the clasp of her purse as she spoke, but I couldn’t tell if it was finding Pepper so distraught or having to repeat Pepper’s language that made her uneasy.
“Did she say what was bothering her?”
“No, and I wouldn’t dream of prying. But I’ve never seen her like that. She’s usually so cool. I mean was.”
“Well, we all have our moments.” Although I wasn’t actually sure Mary Nell did.
She set her purse down on the bench between us and folded her hands in her lap. “Pepper was nice to me. Nicer than a lot of the women around here. And now I feel so bad that I didn’t do something to cheer her up.” Her voice got all shaky, and I was afraid she might become hysterical herself. “I’ve never known anyone who was murdered before,” she confided. “Things are different in Kansas.”
“Murder isn’t exactly commonplace in Walnut Hills either.”
“No, I guess not.” But she didn’t look convinced. “Oh, by the way, I have something for you.” Retrieving her purse, she pulled out a photograph and handed it to me. It was a picture of Anna and Kimberly, with me and Pepper standing behind them. Mary Nell was always taking pictures and making copies for people. If there were ten people in the picture, she made sure she got ten copies. “It’s from the Easter party. I’ve been meaning to give it to you for weeks. I made a copy for Pepper too. Only now it’s too late to give it to her.” Then she reached into her purse again, pulled out a little white handkerchief edged with pink rosebuds and dabbed at her eyes.
Chapter 5
While Anna played near the wading pool, I sat in the shade under the mulberry tree, sketching a clump of blue and yellow iris. I had filled the pool that morning so the water could warm in the sun, but Anna chose not to set foot in it anyway. Somehow, she had talked me into letting her bring outside my entire collection of plastic bowls, funnels and strainers, and now she sat on the grass beside the pool in her new pink bathing suit, happily pouring water from container to container and chatting with herself in a language I couldn’t make out.
I had always assumed I would have children, even as a girl when no boy would be my partner at dancing class. But it wasn’t unt
il I had Anna that I stopped being able to imagine my life any other way.
To this day I can recall, so vividly it takes my breath away, the sensation of holding her for the first time—a tiny, warm bundle with bright blue eyes and breath that was soft and moist against my cheek. After all the hours of Lamaze training and the months of talking nonstop about “the baby,” you’d think I would have known what to expect, but nothing had prepared me for the rush of love I experienced when it finally dawned on me that the tiny, soft form in my arms was, indeed, real.
Andy was there too, taking pictures and grinning like a cat with its own secret supply of warm milk. In those first few weeks after we were home, he continued to take pictures, sometimes a roll a night, and he would make reprints to send to friends and relatives, even people we hadn’t seen in years. It was about six months later that she finally became real for him. I think that was when it dawned on him that Anna was not some new toy which could be conveniently stashed in the closet as soon as the novelty wore off. And I know it scared him. As much as he loved her, which I’m certain he did, it terrified him to think his life had so irrevocably changed.
Now there was another tiny, warm bundle growing inside me. Another pair of eyes to gaze with wonder into my own. Another mouth to laugh at my silly antics. I tried not to think in those terms of course, but it wasn’t easy. And every time I looked at Anna I got a hard lump in my throat.
There was a date circled on the calendar—my self-imposed deadline. The day by which I would have to decide.
I’m not sure what I was waiting for really. A sign from the gods perhaps, or a fortune cookie with a particularly insightful bit of advice. Or maybe part of me was still hoping that Andy would waltz back into my life, reappearing as the man I wanted him to be rather than the man he was—generous, fun loving, not a mean bone in his body, but definitely not the sort of man to willingly embrace the demands of familial life.
Daria said Andy’s only problem was that he got stuck at eighteen and refused to budge. But of course her perspective is slightly skewed, given that Jim has been forty since the day he was born. A mellow, kind-hearted forty I’ll concede, but you’d never catch Jim spending the night camped out in the rain with hundreds of others just to buy tickets to a Stones’ concert. Or planning his own birthday party at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, then showing up in a black tux with fifty helium balloons tugging at his wrists.
It always struck me as funny that Andy and Jim were friends in the first place, but then men’s friendships are very different from women’s, and the two of them shared an interest in golf, which seemed to outweigh everything else.
Although I’d heard about him for years, I never actually met Jim until after we bought the house in Walnut Hills. He and Daria had us over for dinner one night, before we’d even moved in. Jim grilled steaks, mixed margaritas, fetched chips and jumped up with a smile on his face every time Daria said “Honey, would you . . .” but he’d never get out more than a sentence or two before he’d grin, shuffle his feet and grow quiet again. And although he laughed heartily at all the appropriate intervals, I wasn’t sure he really found anything very funny.
“Jim’s not what I expected,” I told Andy as we drove home that night.
Andy laughed. “Don’t be fooled by that shy manner; he can be as wild and reckless as the best of us.”
While I never saw anything the least bit wild about Jim, I’d grown quite fond of him. There was an unaffected steadiness about him which I found reassuring. A steadiness which was decidedly lacking in Andy.
<><><>
“What are you drawing, Mommy?” asked Anna, coming up to peer over my shoulder. “It’s pretty. It looks just like the flowers in the garden.”
She clapped her hands and several drops of water fell onto the page, smearing the pastels. The corners of her mouth fell, and she started to cry. “Oh, no. It’s ruined.”
“It doesn’t matter, I was just playing around.” I hugged her and gave her an Eskimo kiss, which usually makes her laugh, but she continued to whimper. “I’ll do another one tomorrow,” I promised, “just for you. Would you like that?”
She nodded and the tears finally stopped, but she looked as though they might start again at any moment.
“Let’s go see if Kimberly wants to play, shall we? There’s something I’m supposed to do at her house this afternoon, but it won’t take long. Afterwards, Kimberly can come back here with us. I’ll buy ice cream cones.” The prospect of examining Pepper’s room filled me with enough trepidation that I felt as in need of such a treat as the girls.
<><><>
I had met Robert’s sister, Claudia, only once before, but she welcomed me as though we were old friends. “Kate, it’s been ages,” she said as she gave me a quick hug. “I’m so glad to see you again.” Then, growing suddenly solemn, she added, “I only wish it were under different circumstances.”
Despite a strong family resemblance through the eyes and mouth, Claudia and Robert are about as different as two people can be. Whereas Robert is slight, with almost delicate features, Claudia is tall, big boned and angular. She’s at least twenty pounds overweight and not at all refined. Looking at her, you would think she was someone’s maiden aunt rather than an anthropologist who’d “gone through”—Pepper’s words—four husbands and several lovers. Adventure fascinated her far more than money, and although she and Robert were on good terms, she was quick to distance herself from his affluent lifestyle, which I think she found morally offensive.
Following her into the kitchen, I explained that Lieutenant Stone had asked me to look around. “Do you think Robert would mind?”
“Not at all.” She called to Kimberly and then gestured to the stack of bills and papers on the kitchen table. “I’m trying to help out,” she explained, “but I think I may just be adding to the confusion.”
She gave each of the girls two big cookies and a can of soda, then threw in a bag of chips too, and sent them out back to have a picnic.
“How’s Robert doing?” I asked when we were alone.
Claudia shrugged. “You know him,” she said. “He’s a hard one to read. From outward appearances he seems to be holding up remarkably well, though I don’t see how he’s going to manage on his own.”
I nodded agreement. I couldn’t see Robert making peanut butter sandwiches without crusts, or taking time off from work to drive the car pool. I wasn’t sure he even knew the name of Kimberly’s school.
“I just wish I could stay longer. Unfortunately it’s the end of the term. There are papers to grade, and I have three graduate students taking their orals next week.”
“What about Pepper’s family?” I suggested. “Would any of her relatives be able to come stay for a while?” I’d never heard her talk much about her family, although she’d once mentioned a brother she hadn’t spoken to in years.
“Apparently not. I asked Robert that same thing last night, and he passed it off so quickly I asked him a second time just to make sure he’d heard me.”
Standing, Claudia walked to the window to check on the two girls. “Kimberly tells me she’s never even received a birthday card from her other grandparents, so I guess theirs is not exactly a close family.”
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t sound that way.”
“I never really got on with Pepper. We’re different sorts of people. But she was good for Robert, and he adored her. This is going to be hard on him.” She gave a resigned, little laugh. “Of course he’d never admit it. If you ask me, he puts too much weight on propriety.”
I offered again to help out, and she promised to relay the message. Then, rather reluctantly, I headed upstairs to the bedroom.
Even in the bright afternoon light, with Claudia puttering around downstairs and strains of girlish laughter drifting in from the yard, I experienced a moment of panic. Less than forty-eight hours earlier a maniac, a cold-blooded killer, had walked these same steps, perhaps stopping at the landing as I did to gather his bearings.
What had he been thinking that night? What had he been looking for?
The bedroom door was closed, and I opened it cautiously. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting—a scene from Friday Night Massacre, or maybe something more clinical, like the silhouette of a body outlined in red paint across the spread—but it looked pretty much like any ordinary empty bedroom. Messier than Pepper liked, but even in its present state, neater than my own.
The dresser drawers had been dumped, their contents heaped in an almost orderly fashion next to the chaise, and the clothes in the armoire were in disarray. But an arrangement of fresh daisies still adorned the chest under the window, the two club chairs in the comer looked as though they had been readied for a house tour and a framed photograph of Kimberly smiled up from the bedside table. Nothing about the room suggested murder.
Once, many years earlier, my own apartment had been burglarized, and although the thieves took very little— there was little worth taking—they knocked all my pottery onto the floor and slashed the upholstery. But that was San Francisco and this was Walnut Hills. Maybe better class neighborhoods attracted more genteel thieves.
And more deadly, I thought with a shudder.
<><><>
For half an hour I forced myself to study the scene, going through drawers, shelves and boxes, searching for some sign of the killer. I closed my eyes to picture the room as I had last seen it, then opened them abruptly, looking for The Big Clue. Nothing. I wasn’t even able to find the rough spot in the bedpost where the silk threads had snagged.
It was a stupid exercise. Was I supposed to somehow uncover a bloody, sharp-edged object the police had overlooked? Or maybe the killer’s driver’s license, complete with photo and home address? And even though I was sure she would want me to help find her killer, it felt wrong to be poking about Pepper’s empty room, fingering her silk nighties and cashmere sweaters.
Murder Among Neighbors (The Kate Austen Mystery Series) Page 5
