Damsels in Distress (36 page)

I made a couple of sandwiches, gathered his beer and my drink, then sat down next to him on the sofa. “Did you find out when Fiona left Edward’s apartment last night?”

Peter grimaced. “When I confronted Edward, he admitted that she didn’t leave until early this morning. She confirmed it, although she wasn’t pleased that we knew. She’s worried that Julius will go ballistic if he finds out.”

“So they both have alibis,” I said. “How convenient.”

“If they’re telling the truth.” He picked up a sandwich and took a few bites. “Do you think he knew that his mother was here?”

“It must have been a shock when her name came up at the potluck, his very first ARSE meeting. He told me that she disappeared two years ago.” I explained how I’d arrived at the conclusion that Angie and Michelle (aka Serengeti) were the same person. “He must have known something was screwy when he learned the name of the woman who’d volunteered to teach the fairies. He didn’t waste much time going by her house to talk to her.” I took a sandwich and nibbled on a corner of it. “He might have been delighted to discover she hadn’t died. He spoke about her with great affection and respect—but he could have been lying. He may have despised her for ruining his childhood. From what he told me, she chose to play the martyr instead of trying to make something of her life. Plenty of single mothers find a way to get vocational training or finish college with the help of loans, grants, and part-time jobs. She chose substance abuse. He may have been appalled to learn that she was in Farberville and could sabotage his relationship with Salvador. He had a lot at stake.”

“So he set her house on fire? That’s an extreme solution.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “but unless there’s a gas can in his apartment, there’s no evidence that he did.”

Peter finished the sandwich and leaned back. “Or any chance of getting a warrant. This woman who died in the fire had a history of mental illness.”

“Rosie Neely did not set the fire,” I said adamantly. “She was a very nice woman who was liked by her boss and coworker. There was no suggestion in her file that she ever had any obsession with fire. Most arsonists start playing with matches and setting fires as children. She grew up in a stable environment, got along well with her brother, and did fairly well at school until her father was injured at a job site-” I stopped and took a sip of scotch. “Or so I heard, anyway.”

“You read her file? Her
confidential
file?”

“I must have seen it somewhere,” I said, struggling not to blush as he stared at me. “No more than a glimpse. Nothing worth mentioning. Or maybe I heard about it from one of your officers. Would you like another sandwich, or some fruit and cheese? Caron went to the grocery store yesterday. She wanted to order a pizza this evening, if you can imagine. She needs to work on her shortterm memory, especially since she’ll be taking the SAT this fall. She’s avoided studying all summer, and will end up cramming the night before the test. It won’t do any good if she can’t remember the difference between a hypotenuse and—uh, a hippopotamus.”

Peter held up his palms. “Okay, I won’t ask, but if you get caught, you’re on your own with the prosecutor. He’d like nothing better than to embarrass you in public. When he heard we were engaged, he had me go to his office so he could lecture me about how I was imperiling my career. He had a point.”

“Would you like me to return your ring and tell Jorgeson’s wife to yank up the chrysanthemums?”

“Don’t be absurd,” he said. “I’m going home to get some sleep. Corporal McTeer’s outside, this time with orders not to allow you to leave without calling me.”

“If you really want to know about the adoption paper and Rosie’s file, I’ll tell you as long as you promise not to hassle the innocent parties who were inadvertently duped.”

“I don’t want to know anything, okay?”

He left without so much as a friendly nuzzle. I tidied up and then went downstairs to the front porch. “Corporal McTeer?” I called quietly.

“Yes, ma’am?” came a voice from the shadows.

“Have you ever planned a wedding?”

“My sister’s, although the jerk she married dumped her a year later and moved to Alabama with a slut. It was a real nice wedding, though.”

“There’s no reason to sit under a bush for the next few hours. Come upstairs and help me make a list. Is it cheating if I borrow something that’s old and blue?”

The phone rang the next morning at seven o’clock. Aware that it would take a major earthquake to get Caron out of bed, I stumbled down the hall to answer it. “This better be good,” I said by way of greeting.

“This is Anderson Peru. I’m sorry to call so early, but I’m worried sick about Lanya. About three hours ago, I heard her drive off, and she hasn’t come home. I don’t understand how she could do that. The children are home, and she always fixes breakfast for them. I’m supposed to be at work in an hour.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I don’t know who else to call. She hasn’t spoken to anybody except you and the police since Saturday night. She’s kept the bedroom door locked, and only comes out to find something to eat after everybody has gone to bed. She’s…not herself. She wouldn’t even answer the children when they tried to persuade her to come out.”

“Lanya’s old enough to run away from home,” I said, rubbing my grainy eyes. “It’s been all of three hours, Anderson. Maybe she wanted to get away from the house for a while. It may just be a case of cabin fever.”

“It’s not like her,” he insisted. “Should I call the police?”

I carried the receiver with me as I went into the kitchen to make coffee. “The police won’t do anything without a reason to suspect some sort of crime. Adults are free to come and go as they wish, Anderson. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

“Even if it includes driving off the side of a mountain? What am I supposed to do?”

“Put on your armor and make breakfast,” I said. “Can’t your daughter babysit the younger children while you go to work?”

“And they decide to find out which pieces of furniture float in the pond? What about your daughter? Does she babysit?”

“You couldn’t afford her. Could Lanya have gone to Benny’s?”

“I called and got his answering machine. Besides, he’s likely to be in bed with his latest conquest. He doesn’t waste any time when he’s not working in one of those Arab countries. For some idiotic reason, the women all fall for his blustery barbarian routine. I’ve watched him in action for twenty years.”

“He was telling Edward how he used to be close friends with Salvador and how the two of them chased barmaids at the Renaissance gatherings. Different techniques, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I envied them from the shackles of my marital tent. They had quite a reputation. Benny’d make up outrageous scenarios with evil wizards and warlords, and then they’d get people to enact them. The campsite was more of a battlefield than the official arena. Swords would clang half the night, replete with screams, curses, and cloaked figures crashing into tents. They had a lot of complaints from the more puritanical campers.” He took a breath. “But what am I supposed to do now? What if Lanya doesn’t come back?”

“I suggest cereal and day care. That’s the best I can do until I’ve had coffee, Anderson.”

“Could you possibly drive by Benny’s place and look for her station wagon?” he asked piteously. “That way I’ll know that she’s safe.”

I would have felt more sympathy had I not been making such a mess with the coffee grounds and water. “Why don’t you put your darlings in the car and drive by yourself? I don’t know where Benny lives and I’m not sure I’d recognize Lanya’s car.”

“I’ve got to start calling around for a babysitter. I have a conference call at nine with our sales department and a nationwide clothing chain. I’ll lose my job if I miss it. It will only take you fifteen minutes, and I’ll be eternally grateful. Please do this for me, Claire.”

There is nothing worse than a pathetic plea from a man, and although I’d only caught a glimpse of his children, what I’d heard about them was cause for concern. “All right,” I said.

He gave me directions and I promised to report back as soon as I could. While the coffeepot gurgled, I threw on some clothes and detoured by the bathroom. Trying not to jiggle a mug of coffee, I went down to the garage and drove to Benny’s house. It was on the fringe of the historic district, bland and unpretentious. The yard was neglected, but not to the point that it would raise the ire of his neighbors. There was no sign of Lanya’s station wagon on the street. I didn’t know what Benny drove, so I had no way of telling whether or not he was home. Ringing the doorbell was not an option.

Cabin fever, I thought as I drove past Max’s house and down Thurber Street. She might be watching the sun rise by a lake, eating pancakes at an all-night café, or heading for California to learn how to stomp grapes. If I’d been a truly altruistic person, I would have driven to the Perus’ farm and offered to watch the children while Anderson had his ever so important conference call. However, I wasn’t, so I stopped to buy fresh doughnuts and then went home.

Caron was sitting at the kitchen table, glowering. “Where have you been? The phone kept ringing and ringing, so I finally got up and answered it. What kind of person calls at this Ungodly Hour? Is there no consideration in this world?”

“Was it Anderson Peru?”

“I have no idea. I picked up the receiver and pointed out that it was seven-thirty, and therefore entirely too early to be calling anyone, and hung up. What business does he have calling here, anyway?

Just because he’s a make-believe duke doesn’t give him the right to disturb people. Henry the Eighth may have beheaded some of his wives, but at least he waited until a civilized hour.”

“Have a doughnut.” I put the box on the table and went into the living room to call Anderson. When he answered, I said, “I didn’t see her station wagon, but I didn’t search the area. Benny’s blinds were closed.”

“I’m going to be late,” he wailed.

“Take the children with you. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see where their daddy works.”

“The little bastards would burn down the main warehouse within an hour. I need your help, Claire.”

“Why don’t you call Fiona? If she can deal with teenagers at school all day, she can handle your children.”

He sucked in a breath. “That would be…awkward, especially when Lanya comes home from wherever she is. She and Fiona don’t get along very well.”

“Tell her—Lady Olivia of whatever—that it’s a ducal edict and she owes it to her sovereign. Surely that’s one of the perks of your role. If Lanya shows up, the two of them can sort out their differences in the sandbox. Good luck, Anderson.” I hung up and returned to the kitchen. The only sign of Caron was a half-eaten doughnut on the table.

After I’d showered and put on clean clothes, I took a second mug of coffee and a doughnut into the living room and turned on the TV to catch the morning news show. Ken and Barbie’s clones were interviewing a sleek Japanese woman who was the editor of a pop culture magazine. She was explaining with great intensity the reasons for Stark Reality’s popularity in her country. According to her, Lord Zormurd and his loyal warriors symbolized the sword- wielding Samurai caste until they were abolished in the late nineteenth century. Zormurd, of course, was the great shogun, master of martial arts, protecting the peasants from barbaric foreign armies. The clones feigned interest, although it was likely neither of them could find a Japan restaurant. To their relief, the interview ended and they resumed blathering about the weather (good) and the traffic congestion near the mall (bad).

I left the doughnuts for Caron and walked to the Book Depot. I was not surprised to find Edward in the parking lot, juggling grimy beer bottles that he’d found in the weeds beside the railroad tracks. “Hi,” I said as I unlocked the door. “I would have brought you a doughnut if I’d known you’d be here.”

He followed me inside and sat down at my desk. “Guess you heard about the second murder. That woman with the weird makeup. I caught a glimpse of her in the living room the night of the cocktail party.”

“Your mother,” I said. “What?”

“Get off it, Edward,” I said irritably. “The detectives know who she was, so there’s no point in pretending. Michelle Galway, right? How could you act as if the name meant nothing to you?”

“I was too stunned to say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Something like that—well, it freezes your brain. You have to let it melt slowly and try to figure out what it means.”

I started the coffeemaker and shooed him out of my chair. You talked to her after the potluck, remember? I saw you on the porch.”

“That was Angie,” he protested.

“You knew who she was before you went to her house. Yesterday you identified the photo of another woman as being that of your mother. Was that a diversionary tactic to throw me off the track?”

“Okay, so Angie was my mother. I just didn’t want the police to start wondering about it. When I started searching for information about Salvador online, I read some back issues of the local newspaper. Your name came up several times, and I could tell you had some kind of affiliation with the police department. I figured if I told you that my mother vanished a couple of years back, you’d pass it along.”

“You juggle lies as adeptly as you do beer bottles. Go away, Edward. I need to find a way to make a quarterly installment on my taxes. My accountant is too priggish to allow me to juggle figures.”

He sat in sullen silence for a moment. “That night on the porch I told her to get the hell out of Farberville if she ever wanted to see a nickel from me in the future. All I wanted her to do was leave before she screwed things up. If she’d just gone back to Oregon, everything would have been fine. When she died in the fire, I felt awful. Then the police said that she was murdered at Salvador’s house. I promise you that I wasn’t lying when I said I was stunned. I was also terrified that the police would think I’d done something to her. My mother was a mess, but she was my mother all the same. We survived together for all those years, and we were going to be okay once Salvador acknowledged me. He would have agreed to send her money, if only to keep her away from him. She wasn’t supposed to come here.” He sat forward and stared at me. “I swear that’s the truth, Mrs. Malloy. You have to believe me.”