"I disagree with your self-assessment, Miss Barr; you seem to be quite sensible on matters criminal. As for the date on your card, perhaps, I now think, it was wishful thinking. If he would do it once, I must wonder how many times since we have been married it was wishful thinking too. He was no longer young and perhaps other young women turned him down. How tragic, that he would keep up the lie of betrayal to me! But then, I always knew his obsession was more pride than need."
"Why would you take on a man with such a handicap?"
She shrugged in a graceful Gallic manner that said more than any number of sentences. He was as he was, it said, and I loved most of that.
"I know," Michelle added, "that he was an excellent father. Of course, having nannies takes much of the burden of parenthood away. But he loved our Padgett Cookie like no one on earth, not even me. She was so innocent, so trusting. She gave him what you call 'unconditional love.'
It made him feel secure, and I sense that he was making a genuine attempt to change his ways.
"Then, to hear of this unknown daughter who so reviled him! It would have hurt him very much, because he didn't know. He perhaps began to feel that Padgett would turn on him someday, no matter what he did. Yes, you did have a clue to his state of mind. It must have been very tortured." She turned her bland glance on Temple. "And so have I been, since learning of his death. Suicide. I would never have suspected it of him."
"I don't think that my turning him down was enough--"
"Of course not, Temple." She laid a cold, bony hand on Temple's forearm. "He had ego enough to bounce back from such a shock, and I suspect he'd had more than one such shock of that nature in recent years. As you said, he was automatically reverting to his seducer self. But these letters--have the police got them?"
"I don't know. They don't confide in me. I assumed they'd be found in his room."
She shook her head. "Darren was very clever at hiding things, from everyone. He had to be.
These he would have safeguarded more than anything. But I will ask the police. I will at least have them look for this . . . pathetic daughter."
"And how will you say that you knew about them?"
"Do not worry, my dear. I will not implicate you, not after you tried to help Darren with his problem. I will say he mentioned a letter once, casually, and that now I wonder."
"You're pretty clever yourself."
She nodded. "One had to be to marry Darren. Now--" She settled low in her chair and brought the mostly full wine goblet to her bloodless lips. "Tell me about these two men who divide your loyalties. Oh-la-la! What a love life. It sounds fascinating. Perhaps I can be of help."
Chapter 24
Fall of Another Card
Molina wanted to see them downtown. Now. Then she hung up.
Temple and Matt hung onto the phone in her kitchen, ears jammed against the shared earpiece, cheek to cheek, with a bundling board of molded plastic between them.
Temple had done all the talking. Not that there had been much to say. And now the line was dead.
"You're sure we have to do this?" Matt asked Temple.
"You're the arbiter of right and wrong. I thought you'd be cheerleading me to sell myself down the river."
"I'm in worse shape. I might have heard the last person to see Darren Cooke alive arrive at his suite."
"At least you're not the one his wife invited over for pasta only to confront you with evidence that you were the last person to sleep with her husband."
Matt's light tan turned ashen. "Molina's going to ask us why we didn't volunteer this information before."
"We were cowards, plain and simple. You couldn't be sure that your information was relevant to the case, and I was all too sure that mine was, except that it made me look like an idiot."
"You could call it a case of Prejudice and Pride."
"That version of the title does not have a ring to it, and our excuses won't soothe Molina's wrath. In her place I'd be pretty put out with us too."
"You know, that's the first empathetic thing you've said about her."
Temple hung up the dead phone, tired of the guilt-inducing drone of the dial tone, although it perfectly suited her mood.
"There's one thing I'm not going to tell her, even now."
"What's that?"
"It's pure supposition. I'm convinced that Darren's daughter has been stalking him. I bet she's in Las Vegas, and I'm going to find her."
"Temple, that's worse than a needle in a haystack, that's one young woman among one million."
"She wouldn't be far away; she'd want to watch him sweat. I keep thinking that Domingo the flamingo artist being in town just when Darren Cooke was working up his show was perfect timing for someone. Domingo's legion of volunteer flamingo-planters, all with undocumented backgrounds, would provide a perfect cover for a twenty-something Jill the Ripper. I'd really like to nail Domingo's ex-mistress Verina with the role, but she's past forty."
"Why do you have it in for this Verina?"
"She took my hat."
"Remind me not to sit on your cat. I can't imagine what revenge you'd think up then."
Matt ambled into the living room to sit beside Midnight Louie on the ivory sofa. He was wearing khaki and almond; with his blond hair and brown eyes, that made him look both cool and warm at the same time. Temple was starting to regret she'd insisted they confess to Molina.
There were much more personal matters to discuss this evening.
Temple joined him on Louie's other side.
Matt rested an elbow on the sofa arm, his face on his fist. "You know, this demented daughter writing ugly letters to her father, calling it stalking, makes me wonder if that's what I'm doing to my stepfather. Whatever he's up to is none of my business. Why I am dogging his trail?
Am I a stalker?"
Temple perched on the sofa arm behind him.
"Sure," she said cheerfully. "I don't think you've even figured out yet what you'd do if you actually found him. You might even be a violent stalker."
"That's the scary part." Matt looked up.
"You wouldn't send him hate letters, though."
"Hadn't thought of that. But, no. I'd want to see him face-to-face . . . and then I might strangle the bastard."
Temple tsked. "Not fit language for Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, I imagine."
Matt looked amused. "You can imagine all you want. Priests use strong language in private to express anger, just like anybody else."
"Not all priests."
"No. Some are perfect practitioners of every commandment. When it came to language, I was more often among the lambs than the sheep."
"I don't doubt it," Temple answered, patting his head.
Matt looked up at her again, visibly trying to decide if the gesture was motherly, comradely or something else.
She stood with a grimace. "No time to wallow in comfort and examine our consciences.
We've got an appointment at the police department. Hey, I'm wearing leggings. Why don't we take your motorcycle."
"It's Kinsella's motorcycle."
"That's no reason not to take it; besides, Max gave it to Electra."
"Some things you can't give away."
Temple stopped by her front door. "Somethings, or some people?"
"It's a rather intimidating machine."
"That's why I want to ride it, silly. Conquer my fears."
"That knit jacket won't cut it; I finally had to find something to replace my windbreaker. The street gets cold these November evenings."
"I've got a great little leather jacket that should be just the thing."
"You don't have a helmet."
Temple paused, then lit up. "Electra's not using her 'Speed Queen' number."
"I've never had a passenger before. The new weight might throw things off. I might dump you in the street."
"I'm little, as I often lament. I won't add much weight. Mister, please, I ain't heavy."