Wall-To-Wall Dead (30 page)

Derek smiled faintly. I swallowed. “That would have been good enough for me.”

Bruce shrugged. “Musta been for her, too, I guess, ’cause I never heard about it again. And Guy never showed his face around here.”

Probably a good thing for Guy, since I was pretty sure Bruce would have rearranged it for him if he had.

We sat in silence another few seconds. Again, it was Josh who broke it. “I’m really sorry, but I have to give the envelope with the stuff to my dad.”

Both Robin and Bruce looked ready to interrupt, but he continued before they could. “If someone’s going around killing the people in the building, I can’t not share it with him. It might be relevant. And I want to stop this person, whoever it is, before someone else dies.”

“Wayne isn’t unreasonable,” I added. “He’s a nice guy. He’ll understand your situation. And it’s not like you’ve done anything illegal. You didn’t really commit bigamy; you’re just pretending to be married. Just tell him the truth. He might even have something to suggest for how you could divorce Guy for real.”

Robin didn’t look convinced, but she nodded.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Josh added and got to his feet. “We’ll leave you guys alone. Sorry to spring it all on you. I just…
we
just”—he took in the rest of us with a glance—“we wanted you to have fair warning. So that when Dad shows up to talk to you, you’ll know what happened.”

Bruce nodded. “We appreciate it. Let me see you out.”

He herded us toward the front door while Robin made a beeline for the bedroom and Benjamin. I guess she probably felt the need to see him and hug him and reassure herself that he was there, and whole, and hers. I know that’s what I would have wanted to do.

“You gonna visit everyone in the building tonight?”
Bruce asked as we filed past him out of the apartment and into the stairwell.

Josh nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“She dig up dirt on other people, too?”

“Everyone in the building.”

Bruce nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Hopefully the rest of the visits wouldn’t turn out to be as surprising as this one had been.

Across the landing, we knocked on Amelia Easton’s door and stood back to wait. We could hear music from inside, 1980s techno-pop or something like it, and when Amelia came to open the door, she looked happy and relaxed, too, in jeans and a bright turquoise T-shirt, with her hair down, a big balloon glass of something pale green and slushy in her hand—frozen Margarita?—and her feet bare with matching turquoise polish. Hardly the statement I’d expect from a staid professor of history.

Of course, the happiness slipped right off her face when she saw us. Her eyes turned wary and the corners of her mouth drew down. “What’s wrong?”

And then she noticed Jamie, and must have realized what had happened. “Oh, no. Candy?”

We nodded. Jamie’s eyes filled with tears again.

“That’s terrible,” Amelia said. “Any idea what happened?”

Since Derek was the one who had tackled the answer to that question last time, we left it to him to bring her up to speed. I was a bit surprised when he simply said, “Heart failure.”

But Amelia didn’t question it, just nodded. She seemed to have realized she was holding a ginormous glass of alcohol, and I could see her eyes flicker as she looked for somewhere to put it down.

“Can we come in for a minute?” Jamie asked. “We need to talk about something.”

Amelia hesitated, but it wasn’t like she could say no, really. “Of course.” She stood aside to let us in.

“Thank you.” We filed into the hallway and looked around.

Here, everything was a mirror image of the apartment across the hall, and of ours downstairs. The kitchen was right instead of left, the living room left instead of right.

But unlike Amelia herself, who was bland to the point of boring—at least when she wasn’t barefoot—the place was full of color and excitement. The walls in the hallway were light purple, with tasteful black-and-white landscapes in black frames flanking a beautiful sunburst mirror. The bathroom had been updated with marble tile and what looked like a big soaking tub, and the kitchen had white high-end cabinets with glass fronts, a bright blue counter, and stainless steel appliances. It was gorgeous, especially against the big bowl of oranges sitting on the counter.

“Wow.” I looked around. “This is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was sort of toneless. Usually people get excited when you compliment them on their homes, but Amelia was more stiff. But maybe she was just worried about the other shoe dropping. The shoe Jamie had intimated was coming when she’d said we had something else to discuss. “Why don’t we sit down in the living room?”

She led the way without waiting for our answer.

Like the kitchen, hallway, and bath, the living room/dining room combo was gorgeous, and bespoke excellent taste, enough money to indulge it, and a love of luxury and fine things, albeit in a more personal—and less ostentatious—way than in the Rossinis’ home. There, there’d clearly been a designer at work. Here, it looked like Amelia had lovingly put it all together herself. The floors were polished hardwood, and two Persian rugs defined and separated the living room and dining room areas. The dining room set was upscale modern: dark wood with simple Quakerish lines and tasteful seat cushions. A huge flower arrangement sat in the middle of the table: what looked like
at least two dozen calla lilies in a hand-blown glass vase. Both flowers and vase must have cost a small fortune, separately or together. I’d priced calla lilies for my wedding bouquet, and they don’t come cheap. Nor does art glass.

The living room sofa and chairs were leather, but that was the only thing they had in common with Bruce and Robin’s cracked couch across the hall. This stuff was the color of eggplant, and looked brand-new. When we sat down, it was like sinking into a mound of pillows. The leather didn’t even squeak.

“This is gorgeous,” I said, stroking it. It was as soft as butter, or the proverbial baby’s bottom.

“Thank you.” Amelia didn’t sound any more excited about that compliment than she’d been about the previous one. “What’s going on?” She took the matching chair while the four of us made ourselves comfortable on the sectional. It was plenty big for all of us.

Jamie glanced at Josh and Josh glanced at Jamie. It was a tiny bit disconcerting to watch them, since I had the impression that if it hadn’t been for Shannon, Josh and Jamie might have been very happy together.

“It’s about Miss Shaw,” Jamie said eventually, turning back to Amelia.

Amelia looked wary. “Yes?”

“Remember I told you about Miss Shaw finding out about my job and threatening to call my parents? And remember that envelope of information I told you we found in Miss Shaw’s condo after she died?”

Jamie didn’t wait for Amelia’s nod. “It didn’t have just information about Candy and me in it. There was stuff about everyone in the building. The two of us, Josh, Robin and Bruce, Mariano…even Avery and Derek.”

Amelia glanced at me. “What kind of information?”

“Jamie’s job,” I said, sticking to the things I figured she already knew about. “Candy’s affair. My aunt’s death.” She might not know about that last one, but I didn’t care if she found out. Better I talk about that than any of the other neighbors.

“Now that Candy’s dead,” Jamie continued, “the police need that information. I don’t want to believe that her boyfriend or his wife did something to her—but someone did.” She sniffed. “She was always so healthy, at least until she drank that stupid wine he sent.”

“Of course,” Amelia said. “It’s all right, Jamie. Candy can’t be hurt by anything we do anymore. What we need to do now is help the police figure out who did this to her.”

Jamie nodded. “That’s why we’re going to give the police the envelope tomorrow. With everything in it. We just wanted to let you know.”

Amelia nodded, but I thought she looked a little confused, or perhaps “concerned” is a better word.

“We wanted to warn you,” I tried to explain, “in case Wayne brings up that old story about your college roommate again. That information was in the envelope, too. I guess maybe Miss Shaw didn’t realize it was common knowledge. Maybe she thought there was something more sinister to it than there was.”

Amelia shook her head. “It was nothing more or less than it looked like. A terrible tragedy, and a great personal loss. I loved her, in spite of her failings. I’m just sorry her weaknesses caused her death.” She sighed.

We sat in respectful silence for a few seconds until I got to my feet. “Is this her?”

It was a small strip of photographs, the kind you get out of a photo booth, tucked away in a corner of the shelving unit, sharing space with a few strategically placed books—chosen more for their looks than for Amelia’s enjoyment of them, I thought—another glass vase, a few glass animals—birds—and other knickknacks. Other than the landscapes on the wall in the hallway, clearly professional quality, these were the only photographs I’d seen since entering Amelia Easton’s apartment.

Amelia nodded. When I picked up the strip for a closer look, I think she twitched a little, but I might have been mistaken.

The pictures showed two young women around the age of twenty squeezed into a photo booth together, mugging for the camera. Or at least one of them was. I recognized Amelia’s face, even with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out. Her hair was longer then, thick and wavy, down past her shoulders, not pulled back in that no-nonsense knot she wore these days, and a pair of chandelier earrings almost the size of the real thing decorated her earlobes.

The other girl must be the dead roommate. They looked a lot alike, actually. Same round, unfinished face, same big eyes. Both were brunettes, but Nan had curlier hair she kept pulled back so only a few wisps framed her face. I understood that compulsion; curls—like kinks—can be hard to tame. No earrings for her, but she was wearing a crucifix on a chain around her neck. The same crucifix, or one identical, was curled next to the strip of pictures. The links pressed into my fingertips when I picked it up.

The crucifix was engraved, I realized. With a date and a name. The date was from the mid-1980s—maybe a confirmation or the Christian equivalent of a Bat Mitzvah, when Amelia had been thirteen or fourteen?—and was engraved on the crossbeam, while the name ran vertically down the shaft.

“We each got one,” Amelia said, looking over my shoulder. “All the girls did. Confirmation gift.”

“I have one, too,” Jamie said from behind us. As I put the photograph back down on the shelf, she added hesitantly, “I know it’s not my place to tell you what to do, Professor Easton, but you should consider going back for a visit. It’s a different place now. At least that’s what my mom says.”

How different could it be, I wondered, if parents still threatened to drag their grown children back home by the hair if they strayed too far from the straight and narrow?

And then I caught on, a few seconds belatedly. “I didn’t realize you two came from the same place.” Judging from Josh’s expression, he hadn’t realized it, either.

“The same congregation,” Jamie said. “Although Professor Easton had left by the time I was born, I think.”

She turned back to Amelia. “There’s no commune anymore, you know. That happened soon after…”

She trailed off. “Anyway, we live all over now. In normal houses in normal neighborhoods. The kids get immunized, just like all the other kids. We have medical records and dental records and birth certificates. I went to a regular school. A private Christian school, so it was stricter than the state schools, but I had friends who weren’t part of our congregation. My parents even let me go on group dates once I turned sixteen. It isn’t like it used to be.”

Amelia nodded, but it didn’t look like she believed it. Or if she did, it certainly didn’t look like she’d ever consider going back, even for a visit. If I’d narrowly escaped a place like that, I’m not sure I would have, either. It must be just as stifling and horrible as Robin’s bad marriage.

And none of this was any of our business. It was obvious we were making Amelia uncomfortable. We’d done what we came for. I got to my feet. “We should get going. We still have to tell the rest of the neighbors the news. Thank you for inviting us in.”

Since she couldn’t say it was her pleasure, Amelia simply nodded. “Thank you for stopping by to let me know about Candy. I’m sorry it ended that way. I hoped, since she got to the hospital in time, she might have a chance.”

“She hung on for a while,” Derek said as we made our way toward the front door. “But her system was just too compromised, I guess. The damage was already done by the time we got to the hospital. It was just a matter of time. But at least we can take some comfort in the fact that she didn’t suffer.”

“She didn’t?” Jamie’s eyes were huge in her pale face, and begging for reassurance.

“No,” Derek said gently, “she didn’t. She was beyond feeling anything at all the whole time she was in the hospital. From when we found her in the basement until she
died, she didn’t feel a thing. At least that’s one thing to be grateful for.”