A Denial of Death (20 page)

"It's a reasonable theory, at least. One I could present to a jury with a straight face."

"It would be nice to be able to confirm Angie was in Charlene's house until recently. I bet she left something behind. Like scraps of yarn from her knitting."

"Don't even think it," Tate said, standing up to loom over her. "If you do anything as stupid as breaking into Charlene's house, I won't bail you out of jail or defend you in court. Not for all the wood in all the exotic lumber yards in the northeast."

She glared right back up at him. "Doesn't that violate the lawyers' equivalent of the Hippocratic oath?"

"Nope. We just promise to uphold the Constitution and pay our Board of Bar Overseers dues. The oath doesn't say anything about representing clients after they ignore our advice."

"It's not like I'd know how to break into a house, anyway," Helen said. "And I wouldn't want to get Jack into trouble by asking him how to do it."

"I'm serious. You break into Charlene's house—or anyone else's house or business—and I swear I'll testify at your sentencing hearing to recommend a life sentence."

"I'm not going to break into anyone's house."

"Or business?"

"Or business," Helen repeated irritably. "I still think it's most likely Angie was killed at the casino, but just in case, I'm going to check out a couple people here in town who had reason to dislike her more than most people do. Don't worry. It's perfectly safe, and I'm sure it won't get me any real information, but I want to be thorough. I'm just going to talk to Ralph's office manager, who supposedly would like to get rid of Angie in order to have Ralph all for herself, and then I'm going to chat with the president of the Friends of the Library, who was on the verge of brawling with Angie right before she disappeared."

Tate stepped away, returning to his lathe. "I'd be relieved except I suspect you can get into more trouble than Angie ever did. With you, even the library isn't safe."

"I'm tired of safe," Helen said. "I did that for twenty years with my husband's career. I'm ready for a little excitement."

Tate slipped on his safety glasses and reached for his ear protection. "Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone at the library that you know me. The local librarians are brilliant at finding obscure woodworking books for me through the inter-library loan program, and I don't want them upset with me. I've had enough experience with conflict, and I'd like a little peace and quiet in my retirement."

"That's what I thought when I first moved here," Helen said. "It gets old, fast."

Jack arrived at 10:30 with a…well, Helen didn't know exactly what it was. Some sort of sedan, but so nondescript she couldn't come up with a more distinctive description than "car." It was smaller than the huge SUV they'd tried, larger than the two-seater sports car, and as
un
memorable as the Mini Cooper Countryman had been memorable. The car was even painted an average sort of beige, as if it needed that little bit more blandness to be completely forgettable.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms. Binney. I've got a big order that needs to get shipped the end of this week, and they're not coming out right. I was trying to come up with a solution this morning, and I lost track of time, and then Ed kept me waiting while he had his team prepare this…" Jack seemed to have trouble finding the right description for the vehicle too. "This car."

"Who chose…it?"

"I did," Jack said proudly and then deflated a bit, apparently realizing it wasn't immediately obvious why he'd chosen it. "You did say you wanted it to be something that wouldn't draw any attention to you. I had the devil of a time convincing Ed you wanted to try it out. He only keeps it on the lot as a loaner, for when customers are having repair work done on their vehicles. He insisted I tell you he doesn't think it's worthy of you, and I took it off the lot against his best advice."

"I'll be sure to tell him you warned me."

"He only got off his knees and stopped begging me to pick out a different car when I convinced him this one would make everything else on his lot look so much better by comparison."

"What if I actually like this one?" Helen pulled on the passenger door's handle, and the door moved about three inches before refusing to budge a speck farther.

"I really don't think that will happen." Jack ran around the car to add his strength to hers, and they finally tugged the door open far enough for her to squeeze through it. "I bet Ed had one of his mechanics do that on purpose while he claimed he was just cleaning it up for you. I wouldn't be surprised if we find other glitches he normally wouldn't be able to keep himself from fixing."

Throughout the entire trip to the insurance agency, Jack kept apologizing for the car's shortcomings, from poor acceleration to jerky stops. "I swear, I never thought it would be this bad. Ed must have sabotaged it six ways from Sunday before he turned over the keys."

Helen hadn't even noticed the various glitches that bothered Jack. She would have been perfectly okay with riding in this car, once the door was fixed so she could open and shut it without assistance. It was the right size, the price had to be less than astronomical, and it wouldn't draw unwanted attention. But if Jack hated it, she wasn't buying it. There had to be a vehicle they could both agree was just right.

At the insurance agency Jack managed to get the passenger door open far enough for Helen to climb out. He stayed with the car, presumably to play with his phone's games, rather than out of any concern someone might steal the vehicle.

The insurance agency was located in a converted old Colonial-style house. The exterior was maintained as neatly as the Deckers' home, with siding and trim that looked like it was regularly washed and windows that didn't have so much as a single streak or dried raindrop on them. Inside, the decor was dated, consistent with the twenty years the agency had been in business, but there wasn't a single sign of wear and tear on the busy wallpaper or the lovely wood floors.

What was once a parlor was now bisected with a long counter, creating a space for customers on one side and a work space on the other. The counter held two computer monitors, and beyond were two desks in front with a third centered between them but close to the back wall. The front right desk, closest to the entrance, was unoccupied, while at the other front desk, a twenty-something blonde woman was typing furiously and pretending not to notice Helen's arrival. At the back desk was a woman perhaps ten years older with natural-looking coppery-red hair and wearing a conservative beige pants suit. She looked at the blonde, who must have been aware of being watched, since she stiffened but didn't stop typing. The woman at the back desk sighed and then rose to say, "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Samantha Zacharias."

"That's me," the redhead said with what appeared to be a genuine smile. She approached the counter. "What can we do for you today?"

It dawned on Helen belatedly that she should have prepared a cover story. The police had it so much easier when it came to interviewing suspects. All they had to do was identify themselves and start right in on the interrogation, demanding answers under threat of being dragged down to the station. She supposed there was a great deal more psychology than shining lights and physical coercion these days, but at least the police didn't need to have a credible and sympathetic reason for asking questions. They could just ask, and even if the person refused to answer, that in itself provided a certain amount of information.

Ralph and Charlene hadn't needed much of an incentive to answer Helen's questions, since they were naturally concerned about Angie's whereabouts. It was different with Samantha. Helen couldn't exactly say,
Excuse me, but I think you might have killed Angie Decker in order to claim her husband for yourself. Would you mind answering a few questions for me, or perhaps even confessing to murder?
At least she couldn't say that without getting herself arrested for interfering with a police investigation and proving Tate right. Helen refused to give him the satisfaction.

She needed a reason to be here that had nothing to do with Angie. From what little she knew about private investigators, they generally ran some sort of con in order to get information. She couldn't do anything that complicated, which was probably just as well. She'd never been good at prevaricating beyond little white social lies, even in her political career, where truthfulness had been more of a handicap than the effects of her lupus.

"I'm looking into getting some insurance," Helen finally said, hoping she didn't have to go so far as to actually buy an expensive and totally unnecessary policy that Lily would, quite understandably, berate her about. Unlike a real detective, Helen couldn't pass on the expenses of her investigation to her clients, Betty and Josie.

Samantha glanced past Helen and through the front windows at the car with the dealer's plates. "For your new car?"

"Oh, that's just a loaner. If I do buy a car, I'll need insurance on it, but right now I'm just thinking about changing my homeowners' insurance to a local agency. I met Ralph Decker recently, and he said you could help me while he was on vacation. He obviously trusts you."

Samantha's smile widened, and her green eyes sparkled, but Helen couldn't tell if she was pleased by the compliment itself or by the fact that it was Ralph who'd uttered it. "Did you bring a copy of your current policy?"

"I'm not quite ready to make the switch," Helen said. "The policy doesn't expire for a few months. I just wanted to find out what you'd need in order to do it."

"All I need is a copy of the declaration page that describes your coverage," Samantha said. "We can keep track of the expiration date and handle everything for you. Is there anything else you need today?"

That had been too easy. She needed to keep Samantha talking. As long as Helen was here she might as well check out what Ralph had said about Angie not having a life insurance policy with her sister as the beneficiary. She didn't think he'd lied, but there was a lot he didn't know about Angie. "I'm also thinking about getting a life insurance policy. Do you have any information on that? A brochure, perhaps?"

"Ralph usually handles the life insurance policies personally."

"He told me I could get the same kind of policy his wife has for the benefit of her sister. Except mine would be for the benefit of my nieces, of course."

Samantha's forehead furrowed. "I'm not sure what he meant. The only life insurance policy Angie has, as far as I know, is the joint one with Ralph."

"Nothing for her sister?"

"Charlene? But Angie would never—" Samantha cut herself off, apparently realizing she shouldn't be gossiping about her boss's wife. "You'd have to ask Ralph. Or Angie."

Helen pounced on the opening. "I'm looking forward to meeting Angie. I'm new to town, you know. I heard Angie left on a sudden vacation a few weeks ago, and no one's seen her since."

"You should ask Charlene about that," Samantha said. "She always knows where her sister is."

"Not this time," Helen said. "Or if she knows, she's not telling Ralph. I don't understand why she hates Ralph so much. He seems like such a nice guy."

"No one hates Ralph." Samantha's face glowed with her admiration of him, but it wasn't clear whether the emotion was personal or professional. "Certainly not Charlene."

"Now I'm confused," Helen said. "Ralph explicitly told me that Charlene hates him."

The blonde at the desk behind Samantha had abandoned her typing and was listening intently.

Samantha shook her head sadly. "Poor Ralph. He's so blinded by his love for Angie that he can't see when she's lying through her teeth. Charlene doesn't hate Ralph. She rather likes him, in fact, or she never would have let Angie marry him. She scared away several other men who were interested in Angie who Charlene thought weren't good enough for her."

"Then why did Angie let Ralph think Charlene hated him?"

 Samantha shook her head and pursed her lips. There was no ambiguity in reading the source of her emotion now: her disgust was personal. "That's just Angie. She needs to be the center of attention at all costs. She's afraid she won't get all their attention if Ralph and Charlene are friends. This way she doesn't have to share Ralph with Charlene or share Charlene with Ralph. Instead, they have to sort of compete to spend time with Angie."

The blonde at the desk spoke up. "Samantha is too nice to say it, but I will. Angie is a jerk, and everyone hates her. She makes our life hell the one day a month she comes in to collect the financial reports."

Samantha shook her head at the blonde in an obvious warning to keep quiet. She turned back to Helen. "Forget we said anything about Angie. I'm sure she's a good person, or someone as special as Ralph would never have married her. We don't see her often enough to judge her properly, and you won't have to work with her. Angie does some of our bookkeeping, but she isn't an agent or customer service representative, so she doesn't meddle with the policies in any way."

Helen wasn't going to get anything else useful from either Samantha or the blonde about Angie. If she dropped the subject, she might still be able to get a better reading of what she really wanted to know: Samantha's feelings about Ralph.

"What about Ralph?" Helen said. "Is he actively involved in the agency? Does he supervise all the work himself, at least when he's not on vacation?"

"Oh, yes," Samantha said, her radiant smile returning. "He's incredibly detail-oriented, and he knows his clients so well. He can glance at a dec page, and immediately tell you what additional coverage you might need or what coverage you have that's unnecessary."

The blonde rolled her eyes, as if she'd heard this high praise too many times before, and then went back to her typing.

"It must be hard to have a boss who's that good," Helen said. "He sets impossibly high standards for you and as a comparison for everyone else you meet."

"Oh, no," Samantha said. "He's an excellent role model, something for me to aspire to."