“For God’s sake, let’s not go into that again. Her decision to leave very likely had nothing to do with Ted. Perhaps she’s been planning it for a long time. The girl never confided in me. I never knew what was going on in that head of hers. When I asked her anything personal she’d just stare at me with those funny eyes—”
“Be quiet, Frieda.”
They drove home in silence, and they ate in silence in a small alcove off the kitchen which had a view of the mountains. As the sun set each night the mountains gradually turned from violet to midnight blue and finally disappeared. Lights were springing up along the foothills like strings of Christmas decorations.
Frieda served the meal herself. The only live-in maid, Valencia, had gone to her room to watch television, or whatever maids called Valencia did in their rooms. Frieda had never bothered to find out. She felt reasonably sure, however, that the woman, who spoke little English, would not be eavesdropping like the cook or intruding to express an opinion like Lisa, the college girl who served dinner.
“I hate these silences,” she said finally. “They’re mean, hostile. Can’t you think of anything to say?”
“Nothing you’d want to hear.”
“All right, I’ll say something and you won’t want to hear it either. Ted came to pick up his things this morning. I gave him some money. Don’t worry, it was from my own bank account.”
“Your own bank account came from my own bank account. And I specifically asked you not to give him any money.”
“You commanded me not to.”
“But you did anyway.”
“He’s my son. You treated him unfairly, cruelly.”
“He did something unforgivable. If it weren’t for that, Cleo would be at home right now, safe and secure.”
“And you know where we’d be, Hilton? Right here with her for the next ten, twenty, thirty years like the last fourteen, babysitting a girl who’s never shown the slightest shred of gratitude, who doesn’t even like us.”
He dropped his fork on the plate and spit the food from his mouth into a napkin. She knew she had hit him hard and she was almost but not quite sorry that she was going to hit him again.
“If Cleo walked in the front door this very minute,” she said, “I’d walk out the back. And you and Cleo could live happily ever after.”
“What are you implying, you bitch?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating it outright. You and Cleo can live happily ever after as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want to be around.”
“By God, you are a bitch.”
“It took fourteen years of Cleo to make me one.”
Outside, the dog Zia had begun to bark, a deep-throated menacing bark incongruous for his size. He paused now and then as if to gauge the effect of his threats, and during these pauses a car engine could be heard.
Hilton got up so fast he almost knocked the table over, and he reached the front door at the same time as Aragon.
“Have you found her?”
“No,” Aragon said. “But I’m pretty sure she’s all right.”
“Thank God for that. Come in. Come in and tell me about it.”
They went down the long galleria to the kitchen. Frieda had cleared the dishes off the table and was pouring herself a cup of coffee. She didn’t offer any to either of the men.
Aragon sat across the table from Hilton Jasper and began to talk. “For the past few months Cleo has been counseled at school by a man named Roger Lennard. He’s in his early thirties and has the reputation of being very conscientious in his work. He evidently gave Cleo some new ideas about herself and indicated some possibilities for her future. At any rate, he and Cleo became involved emotionally. I won’t say romantically, because Lennard is a homosexual.”
Jasper made a strange choking noise as if he had something stuck in his throat. “And she’s with him?”
“They’re going to be married. Perhaps they already are.”
“Cleo doesn’t even know what a homosexual is,” Jasper said. “She doesn’t really know what marriage is.”
Frieda spoke for the first time. “She’s not the innocent little angel my husband imagines she is. He never let me tell her the facts of life. He said she was too young, too simpleminded. I didn’t insist. I assumed they took care of these matters at school. She was certainly no innocent. I know that from” — she gave Hilton a long meaningful stare — “from experience... Don’t we, Hilton?”
“Please don’t interrupt, Frieda.” And to Aragon: “Tell me more about this Roger Lennard. Where does he live?”
“In a mobile-home court down near the beach. It was one of his neighbors who told me about the impending marriage. Lennard asked permission to have his wife come to live in the unit he rented.”
“He must be a real prize, a counselor in a school like Holbrook making a play for one of his students.”
“Mrs. Holbrook thinks very highly of him.”
“Then she’s evidently a poor judge of people.”
“Just who made a play for whom?” Frieda said. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
Jasper went over and put his hand on her shoulder. “You appear tired, Frieda. Perhaps you should go to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed.”
“I suggest you reconsider.” He pressed his hand down hard on her shoulder. “You want to appear all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow at breakfast the way you usually are, don’t you?”
“I’m glad she’s gone. You hear that, Hilton? I’m glad. She’s ruined enough of my life.”
“You’d better go to bed.”
“Let her ruin somebody else’s.”
Aragon watched her leave, her heels clicking decisively on the tile floor. It was the first time he’d thought of Cleo as a ruiner, a destructive force, more of a victimizer than a victim.
“Forgive my wife,” Jasper said quietly. “This business has put a severe strain on both of us. Frieda is just as devoted to the girl as I am.”
He didn’t sound convinced or convincing and seemed to realize it. He let the subject drop abruptly, as though he’d picked up a rock too hot and heavy to handle.
Aragon rose, ready to leave. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to solve your problem, Mr. Jasper, but this is the end of the line for me.”
“Where’s Cleo?”
“I made it clear that I don’t know.”
“Then you haven’t done what you were hired to do,” Jasper said. “Cleo must be found and rescued.”
“By ‘rescued’ you mean brought back here?”
“Yes.”
“The law is pretty specific about kidnapping.”
“Use persuasion.”
“I’m afraid Roger Lennard has already used persuasion.”
“She must be rescued,” Jasper repeated. “It’s not the homosexual part that worries me most. It’s the fact that he’s a fortune hunter. Cleo will come into her grandmother’s full estate when she’s twenty-five. A great deal of money is involved. Cleo is vaguely aware of this, certainly aware enough to have told Roger Lennard about it. But I’m sure she has no idea about the California community property laws or anything involving money. A million dollars in the bank isn’t as real to her as a crisp new ten-dollar bill. If someone grabbed the ten-dollar bill from her, she’d resent it and try to get it back or else come crying to me for another one. But a million dollars that she can’t see or feel or buy candy with is nothing to her. To Roger Lennard it’s everything. He may even be faking a few love scenes. The thought of it makes me sick.”
He looked sick. His face had a waxen pallor and there was a fringe of moisture across the top of his forehead. Aragon had acquired a minimal knowledge of medicine from his wife, Laurie, and Jasper appeared to him like a man set up for a heart attack. A big man, an ex-athlete, overweight, with a sedentary job and under a heavy strain, he was programmed for one. Whether it happened or not was a matter of luck, good or bad.