Part 8 (1/2)
Vida insisted we head straight for Maybeth Swafford. ”No more deception,” Vida a.s.serted. ”We're going to tell her exactly who we are. Henrietta as well. If we have to.”
It was almost five o'clock by the time we reached the apartment house off Greenwood. The afternoon had turned warm, and Maybeth had her door open. She also had a guest. The man who sprawled on the sofa was close to forty, with long, blond hair, a goatee, and a tattoo on each upper arm. In his wife-beater T-s.h.i.+rt, he looked like the perfect companion to go bar-hopping with Ronnie Mallett.
”What is it?” Maybeth called over the noise of the T V, which sounded as if it were broadcasting a car race or the end of the world. She was sitting on the floor, curled up next to the sofa.
”It's us again,” Vida shouted. ”We lied.”
”What?” Maybeth's face screwed up in puzzlement. ”Oh-hang on.”
She didn't turn down the TV, but came to the door and stepped outside. ”What did you say? I couldn't hear from in here.”
Vida folded her arms across her jutting bosom and took a deep breath. ”We lied to you. We're not looking for an apartment for my daughter. Indeed, she's not my daughter, she's a friend. My name is-”
”Hold it.” Maybeth held her hands up as the TV continued to blare. ”Slow down. If she's not your daughter,” she went on, nodding at me, ”who is she? Why can't she look for herself? Is she crippled or something?”
”We're not apartment hunting,” Vida declared, an impatient note in her voice. ”That's not our purpose.”
”You want a house? A rental?”
Taking Maybeth firmly by the arm, Vida led the younger woman farther out onto the walkway. ”Emma,” she said slowly as she nudged me with her elbow, ”is Ronnie Mallett's cousin. She's come to Seattle to help prove Ronnie's innocence. I'm here to help her.”
Maybeth's blue eyes widened, then narrowed. ”Innocent, my b.u.t.t. Ronnie did it, and that's that. Hey, I don't much appreciate you two nosing around here and asking me a bunch of stupid questions. If you want to lie to people, go pick on somebody else before I call the cops.”
Vida started to dispute the charges, but the blond man had gotten up from the sofa and was coming toward us with a bowlegged walk.
”What's going down, Beth?” he asked, glaring at Vida and me. ”Who're these two broads?”
Maybeth pointed at me. ”She's Ronnie Mallett's cousin. The other one's a big snoop.”
”Get lost,” the man ordered. ”We don't hang with killers.”
”Maybe you should,” Vida snapped, oblivious to contemporary slang. ”For all we know, you are the killer. Ronnie didn't do it.”
”Where's Budweiser?” I demanded, finally getting a word in edgewise.
The man had started to pull Maybeth back inside, but he stopped. ”The dog?” He glanced at his supposed girlfriend. ”Where is he, Beth?”
”Dead, I hope. That stupid mutt nearly drove me crazy when Ronnie left him tied up out back. He'd bark and bark and bark, sometimes all night. Between the barking and fighting, it's a wonder I can hear the TV. Thank G.o.d that animal shut up after Ronnie left that night. I get a killer headache with my allergies.”
The phrase seemed apt. I pressed Maybeth about Bud-weiser's whereabouts.
”I think Mr. Chan took him away,” she said, shooting us another hostile look.
”Jeez, I hope not,” the man said. ”I liked that dog. I'll take him. Call Chan.”
”Come on, Roy, you don't really want to-” May-beth's words were cut off as Roy slammed the door in our faces.
”Roy?” Vida looked like a dog herself, a bloodhound on the scent. Her nose actually twitched. ”Didn't you tell me that Kathy Addison said that Roy was the name of Carol's ex-beau?”
”I did,” I said, marveling anew at Vida's mind for detail. ”If Carol stole Ronnie from Maybeth, did she offer Roy as a consolation prize?”
”That's what it seems like,” Vida said as we walked away from the building. ”Of course, it could be a different Roy.”
Vida had stopped just short of the Lexus. ”We forgot about Henrietta. Shall we go back and ask her what she knows about Roy and Maybeth and Carol?”
”We might as well,” I agreed. ”We still have time to kill. Maybe I can call Mr. Chan about the dog. I'd like to give Ronnie some good news.”
Vida looked askance. ”You aren't thinking of taking him home with you? What about those dreadful cats you acquired?”
”First things first,” I said as we returned to the apartment walkway. ”Let's hope Henrietta isn't on duty.”
She wasn't. ”Five days off,” she said, ushering us inside. ”That's what I get after a long s.h.i.+ft. It's nice. How about some coffee?”
We declined. Then Vida launched into her tell-all tale about who we really were and what we wanted. Luckily, Henrietta's reaction was different from Maybeth's. She laughed her head off.
”I never!” she exclaimed, her face turning red from laughter. ”That's a hoot. You two sure had me fooled.”
”I feel bad about the deception,” I said. ”It wasn't fair to you.”
”Don't be silly,” Henrietta a.s.serted, waving a hand. ”Let's face it, I lead a dull life. Work in the OR, listen to the doctors talk about their golf game and their stock investments, come home to an empty apartment, watch TV-why, nothing exciting has happened to me in years until lately.” She paused and grew serious. ”That sounds terrible, like Carol's death was some kind of entertainment. Sorry. Anyway, the cops talked to me, a nice detective was here, and now you folks. It makes my day.”
”Tell us about Maybeth and Ronnie,” Vida urged.
”Well.” Henrietta settled back in the easy chair, which was like its owner-solid, comfortable, and showing traces of wear. At her side, a cup of coffee stood next to a family portrait, presumably of her son, his wife, and child. ”I don't know much about it,” she went on. ”One day about a year ago Maybeth moved in. I guess Ronnie moved in with her, though I didn't see much of him. The next thing I know, about a month later he was with Carol. She'd dumped Roy Sprague, which was no big loss, if you ask me. They were always fighting, and I think he beat her up. A couple of times I saw him with long scratches on his face and once with a black eye. Carol had probably tried to defend herself. She and Ronnie fought, too. Frankly, Carol was kind of hard to get along with when it came to men.”
”Men can be difficult,” Vida noted.
”Can't they?” Henrietta made a face. ”I've had three husbands, and only the first one was worth a d.a.m.n, even if he did up and die on me at the age of thirty. Still,” she added wistfully, ”it's not much fun to live alone.” Her quick glance took in the room, which was full of memorabilia, knickknacks, and a trio of bowling trophies. There were photos of a Hawaiian beach, the Inner Harbour at Victoria, BC, Hurricane Ridge on the Olympic Peninsula, and Mount Rainier with the wildflowers in bloom. The ceramic figurines that sat on end tables and shelves looked as if Henrietta had made them herself, all kinds of colorful creatures to keep her company during long, lonely days.
”I live alone,” Vida said quietly. ”It suits me fine. For the most part.”
”Divorced?” Henrietta asked.
Vida looked faintly shocked. ”Widowed. For almost twenty years.”
”Oh.” Henrietta wore a sympathetic smile. ”Sounds like you were one of the lucky ones. I guess you still miss him.”
”I do indeed,” Vida replied.
”Anyway,” Henrietta went on, ”Roy'd show up now and then at Carol's and there'd be a big row. Then, around Christmastime, he and Maybeth started seeing each other. It seemed kind of natural. Two people who'd been unlucky in love finding each other. To be honest, I thought it was sweet.” She winked.
”Do Maybeth and Roy fight?” I asked.
Taking a sip of coffee, Henrietta shrugged. ”I can't really say, with Carol's apartment between me and May-beth. I wouldn't call her-what's the word?- docile, I guess, but she's not as ornery as Carol could be.”
”Do you know if Roy had had any contact with Carol before she was killed?” I inquired.
Henrietta frowned. ”Let me think-I did see him at her door one night when I came home late from work. That was probably a week or so before the murder. Carol wouldn't let him in. At least not while I was outside.”
”In other words,” I suggested, ”Roy may have still had the hots for Carol?”