“For which I pay.”
“Everybody pays for services. That’s how business is done.”
“How do I know you won’t come back for more?”
“Because once I neutralize the danger, that’s the end of it.”
“What are you, a hit man?”
“What’s the matter with you? I don’t hurt people for any reason. I’d never do such a thing. Any rate, I don’t think this is something we should discuss on the phone. Why don’t we find a place to meet? That way, we can pursue the matter in private and see if we can reach an agreement.”
There was a long silence and Pete waited it out.
Finally, tersely, the good doctor said, “Where?”
21
I followed Alice as she crossed the back porch and went down the wooden stairs. Lolly sat in a shady spot under a cottonwood tree on one of two metal lawn chairs. These were duplicates of the ones I remembered from the scrim of yard in the trailer park where I’d lived with Aunt Gin; metal back and seat, supported by a continuous bend of U-shaped tubing, which gave the chairs some bounce. The finish here was chalky from sun exposure, but the chairs were otherwise in great shape. Between the two, there was a metal table resting on three legs.
The larger part of the backyard was given over to a vegetable garden, densely planted and still producing; cherry tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, and two kinds of squash. The beds were bordered with dark green kale and bright orange marigolds. The roses along the fence had been pruned to short, blunt sticks.
Alice said, “Lolly, this is Kinsey. She’s a friend of Terrence and Evelyn Dace. They lived next door to you and David on Daisy Lane. Do you remember them?”
“Oh, yes. It’s so nice to see you again,” she said, and then looked at her cousin, waiting for the next cue.
Alice said, “I’m going to bring you some lemonade. You can tell Kinsey about the garden.” And then to me, “Lolly designed the beds when she first came to live with me and now we work awfully hard to keep them in shape. I’ll be right back.”
She returned to the house, leaving me alone with Lolly, who looked every bit of her eighty-six years; big-boned and gaunt with wide shoulders and a wide, sloping bosom that disappeared at her waist. Her eyes were buried in soft folds. The dress she wore was cotton with an old-fashioned faded floral print in blues and pinks. She wore opaque beige stockings and sandals with thick straps. She had a colander in her lap and she was shelling peas, though the results were a jumble of torn and broken pods with the occasional spill of bright green. Once in a while she looked down, puzzled by the sight, but unable to correct for the error in play. Her expression was probably one she’d settled on for most occasions; pleasant, but with a fixed quality, like someone traveling in a foreign country, unacquainted with the language and therefore hoping to avoid conversation.
She flicked an anxious look toward the back door and then leaned close. “Who is that woman?”
“Your cousin, Alice. Your mother and hers were sisters.”
Lolly’s expression was anxious. “Alice is young. That woman’s old. She moved into my house and now she’s bossing me around. What right does she have to give orders?”
I felt myself detach from reality for a quick reassessment. My neighbor Gus had fallen into the hands of an unscrupulous caregiver who operated in this same manner, discounting complaints and suggesting psychological problems where there were none. If Gus told anyone how mistreated he was, the listener’s natural inclination was to write him off as a mental case. For all I knew, Lolly was telling me the truth. At the same time, if Alice was indeed a stranger taking advantage of an elderly woman, she wouldn’t have allowed me to see Lolly in the first place, would she have?
“I just met her,” I said. “I called and asked if I could visit and she agreed.”
“I’ve never seen her before in my life. Have you?”
“Not until just now,” I said. “Do you remember Terrence and Evelyn Dace?”
“Of course. Are you a friend of Evelyn’s?”
“No, but I talked to her children, Ethan—”
“Ellen and Anna,” she said, filling in the family tree.
I was thinking, good, we’re back on track. “Do you remember the name Karen Coffey?”
“Oh, yes. She went missing in February and they found her days later stuffed in that culvert, not two miles from Daisy Lane. She’d been raped and strangled with a cord. I felt so bad for the family. They were members of my church.”
“You have a good memory.”
“Do I?” she asked, and then, hesitantly, “Have you seen my daughter, Mary?”
“I don’t know Mary. I wish I did,” I said. “Were you at Terrence and Evelyn’s house the night Karen Coffey disappeared?”
“I was. David and I went next door at six o’clock for a potluck supper. I brought a three-bean salad and homemade rolls. Evelyn made that casserole she does with cauliflower, sour cream, and grated cheese. I’ve asked for the recipe four times, but she won’t give it to me, which I told David is just typical of her.”
“Did you have a pleasant evening?”
“We did. The pastor of our church and his wife were there. We had supper and then talked about raising money for the new Sunday-school building.”
“David’s your husband?”
“Yes, but you know he went out some time ago and hasn’t come back since. He’ll be upset if he hears that woman’s been bossing me around. Do you know who she is?”
“I believe she’s your cousin, Alice.”
“The visiting nurse said the same thing, but I know Alice and that’s not her.”
“Do you remember where Terrence was that night?”
“At the house with the rest of us. The pastor’s wife brought meatloaf, which I thought was too dry—though please don’t repeat what I said. When Terrence went to the store for ice cream, the pastor halted the discussion, thinking he might have something to add when he got back. Evelyn told him vanilla and he bought peppermint. Was she upset? Oh, my stars. That woman can throw a fit. Are you a friend of hers?”
“I haven’t met her,” I said. “What’s she like?”
“Crazy as a loon.” She crossed her eyes, stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, and made a circle with her index finger at her temple.
“Lolly, can you tell me who’s president of the United States?”
She leaned forward and put a finger to her lips. “I didn’t vote for him. Don’t tell.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Richard Nixon.”
I stayed long enough for half a glass of lemonade and some inconsequential chat. I kept a discreet eye on my watch and at 9:45 I excused myself, saying I had to get back to the hotel in order to check out. I thanked Lolly for her time. I thanked Alice for allowing me to come. When she accompanied me back through the house to the front door, I saw no sign of the flowers or the box of candy I’d brought. I hoped Lolly got something out of the deal. Did I trust her recollection? I most certainly did.
• • •
I crossed the lobby of the Holiday Inn on my way to the elevators. I’d planned to check out before Mamie and Evelyn arrived, but it occurred to me I should hang on to my room so I could put a call through to Henry prior to my departure. I had just enough time now to pack my belongings and get myself centered before the meeting. I could also use the opportunity to make a few quick notes.
A woman called out, “Kinsey?”
I knew the minute I turned around I was looking at Ethan’s wife. Mamie wasn’t fat by any means, but she was solid. She was taller than I and a good forty pounds heavier. Dark eyes, dark hair skinned back and held with a clip at the nape of her neck. Her face was full, tanned as though she spent all of her waking hours outdoors. She was packed into a pair of black slacks and a crisp white blouse, the shirttail out and belted at the waist. She wore big silver hoop earrings and she carried the manila envelope I’d left behind with Ethan. I knew it was the same because in one corner, I could still see the imprint of Binky’s wee front teeth.