Part 4 (1/2)

”Great,” I said, gritting my teeth. ”Now she's going to have to move or we'll spend the night on Ashworth.”

To my surprise, the girl got out of the car. I braced for a tirade, but she squeezed between the Lexus and a van parked beside me. Quickly, I also rolled down my window. She had reached the Honda.

”Dad?” the girl said. ”Where do you think you're going?”

We couldn't hear the answer.

”Kendra?” Vida mouthed, her gray eyes wide behind the big gla.s.ses.

”Maybe,” I said, craning my neck to get a better look at the argument that was going on behind us. I caught the words leaving her and end of my rope from the man I a.s.sumed to be Sam Addison.

”This isn't a good time,” the girl said, her high-pitched voice carrying on the night air. ”Calm down, Dad. Let's go inside and talk.”

”I'm through talking,” Sam retorted. ”Move your car, Kendra. Let these two nuts in front of me get by.”

”Dad... Hey, Dad, open the d.a.m.ned window! Don't be such an a.s.s!” Kendra was all but hopping up and down next to the Honda.

”We're the nuts?” Vida breathed. ”Really, now.”

Kendra stomped past us without so much as a glance. She got into the sports car, which I'd finally identified as a Mazda Miata, and backed up. I offered her a halfhearted wave, then took a right to Green Lake Way, leaving the Addisons to their peril.

”Most interesting,” Vida murmured as we headed for the Aurora Bridge. ”What do you make of it?”

”Something has brought things to a crisis in the Ad-dison household,” I said. ”I wonder if it has something to do with Carol's murder.”

”A catalyst, perhaps,” Vida said. ”Drat. I shouldn't have asked about the zoo. Sam Addison will remember me.”

I didn't mention that Vida was unforgettable, especially wearing a feathered hat that looked like it might have been one of Montezuma's ceremonial headdresses.

It seemed too late to start pub crawling in search of witnesses. In fact, it was probably too early, but Good Friday didn't strike me as an appropriate time for hitting the bars. Still, neither Vida nor I go to bed early, so I gave her a quick tour of the two major neighborhoods that flanked the city center, Queen Anne Hill and Capitol Hill. Then we drove around downtown, through the canyons between skysc.r.a.pers, and finally returned to our motel around eleven.

”So big.” She sighed, sitting on one of the twin beds and removing her shoes. ”So many cars. So many people. How do they stand it?”

”I like it,” I declared. ”I miss it. Seattle energizes me.”

”Twaddle. How can you stand driving around and not knowing who lives in all the houses? How can you possibly feel connected to half a million people?”

”I don't need to,” I said. ”When you grow up here, you know your neighbors. At least most of them. Being anonymous is what many people like about a big city.”

”Twaddle,” Vida repeated. ”It doesn't make sense.”

It wouldn't to Vida, but it did to me.

We had breakfast at a cafe in the lower Queen Anne district, then headed downtown to the jail. Vida complained about the traffic, which was unusually heavy for a Sat.u.r.day morning.

”It's the day before Easter,” I explained. ”Everyone's out doing last-minute shopping. We'll be lucky to find a parking place close to the jail.”

”Parking!” Vida exclaimed. ”I cannot think when I haven't been able to find a parking s.p.a.ce at the Alpine Mall.”

There was no point in arguing. The mall was a collection of two dozen shops, none of them bigger than my modest log house. We were in luck, however. The city and county buildings are south of the larger stores, and since most office workers had the day off, we were able to find a meter a half block away.

Vida griped all the way to the visitors' area. People weren't friendly, the walls needed paint, the place didn't smell quite right. With her nose in the air she marched along beside me to the visitors' area, where I asked the guard if we could both see Ronnie at the same time.

We couldn't, so I went first, and was shocked to see my cousin. He wore a big bandage across his forehead, one eye was blackened, and his lower lip had been cut. He must have seen the sympathy in my expression because he insisted he was fine.

”I can handle myself,” he a.s.serted with a bravery I was sure he didn't feel.

”It doesn't look like it,” I said. ”Or is the other guy in worse shape?”

Ronnie avoided the question. ”I guess I said the wrong thing to Bubba,” he said with a pitiful smile. ”Bubba rules.”

”With his fists,” I retorted. ”How do you really feel?”

Ronnie's narrow shoulders went slack. ”c.r.a.ppy.” He took a cigarette from the pack I'd brought him-against Vida's advice-and lit up. ”How's Budweiser?”

”What?” I didn't think I'd heard him right.

”Budweiser. My dog. Buddy, I call him. Or Bud.” Ronnie's beat-up face softened. ”He's a mutt, but a real pal. I take him for walks around Green Lake sometimes. How is he?”

”I don't know anything about him,” I confessed. ”Where did you last see him?”

”At the apartment.” Ronnie's face fell. ”I took him outside before I hit the bars. Are you sure you ain't seen him?”

I shook my head. ”I'll ask around, though. I promise.”

Ronnie brightened a bit. ”Good. I can't lose Buddy. Not after losing Carol.” He paused, flicking his cigarette at a plastic ashtray. ”What have you found out? Can I get out of here?”

”Not yet,” I said with a feeble smile of my own. ”We're just getting started.” I explained what we'd done so far, which didn't seem like much, especially to Ronnie.

”What about my alibi?” he asked with a whine in his voice.

”We'll check that tonight,” I replied, wincing at the thought of dragging Vida along to bars and taverns. ”It'd help if you could remember where you were.”

”It had to be one of four places,” Ronnie said. ”Five, maybe, 'cept I don't go to Top's that often. You shoulda gone last night, 'cause it was a Friday.”

Feeling guilty for sightseeing instead of sleuthing, I grimaced. ”You mean the same crew hangs out on the same nights?”

Ronnie yawned, then nodded. ”Sure. Tonight might be different, though sometimes weekends draw all the regulars.”

”We'll do it,” I promised. ”Look, is there anything else you can tell us? Something you remember or thought wasn't important? What about suspects? Who might want to kill Carol?”

Ronnie yawned so wide that I could see his tonsils. ”Huh?”

”Motive,” I persisted. ”Had Carol quarreled with somebody? How did she get along with Kendra?”

”Carol and I argued a lot,” Ronnie said, his eyelids drooping.

I leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair. ”Ronnie, are you all right?”

He nodded twice, his chin almost touching his chest. ”I'm just tired. I don't sleep so good in here.”