Part 21 (1/2)

”No. If your theory is correct, then he wouldn't have known he'd be rejected by Carol. It wouldn't matter if anyone heard him approach. He didn't know that the encounter would lead to violence.”

Vida grimaced, not an easy thing to do considering that she'd just forked in a ma.s.sive load of hash browns. ”Do motorcyclists travel with drapery cord wrapped around the handlebars?” she inquired.

”Good point,” I admitted. ”We're back to that stupid murder weapon.”

Vida nibbled sausage, then spoke again. ”We're leaving Kendra out.”

I winced. ”I hate to put her in. She seems to have been genuinely fond of her birth mother.”

”Yes, yes,” Vida said a bit impatiently. ”But how much of that was rebellion? She's still a teenager. What if her relations.h.i.+p with Carol was a fraud, to get back at Sam and Kathy? And by the way, what was the issue that sent Sam Addison flying out of the house after over twenty years of marriage?”

”Money,” I said. ”Kathy's extravagant expenditures for the house.”

Vida gave me her gimlet eye. ”Do you believe that?”

I thought about it. ”No,” I confessed. ”It may have been the last straw, but it wasn't the real reason. Maybe Sam and Kathy had stuck together for Kendra's sake. Then, when she moved out, he split. I suspect it was a c.u.mulative situation that festered over many years. That's usually what happens when couples with long marriages separate. Some event finally spurs them to break up. Usually, it's when the children are grown. They've stayed together for the sake of the kids.”

Vida's expression was wry. ”Spoken like a true single woman. Even if you've never married, you have at least observed.”

”Thanks, Vida,” I said sarcastically. ”But you know I'm right.”

She gave a nod. ”Which brings us to the Addisons themselves. Why would either of them kill Carol?”

”Because she'd created a wedge between Kendra and her adoptive parents? Because they hated her for the attention Kendra was giving Carol? Because Sam had a perverse l.u.s.t for Carol and felt guilty? Because Kathy is menopausal and had a hot flash that went awry?”

Vida sprinkled more salt and pepper on her fried eggs. ”That's the trouble. It's so difficult to get inside other people's minds. We can't know for certain what demons are driving them.”

”I think we know Darryl's,” I said. ”He's racked with guilt and still in mourning. He was trying to create another family for himself.”

”Yes,” Vida said thoughtfully, ”out of what he'd started in the first place with Carol. That makes sense. Not having seen Darryl since he was a teenager, I can't judge how the years have changed him. I'll rectify that this afternoon.”

”Darryl works at Microsoft,” I pointed out. ”It's Wednesday. He won't be home until evening, and by then, we'll be headed back to Alpine.”

”Hmm.” Vida rested her chin on her fist. ”I could call him tonight after I get home, but that's not as good as a firsthand impression. Tell me exactly what you thought of Darryl.”

Darryl's angry expulsion of me from his condo had colored my a.s.sessment. I ran the tape backward in my brain and reflected on his manner when I'd first met him. He'd been suffering then, after his visit to the cemetery. He'd needed someone to talk to, a grieving man with a heavy heart.

I expressed those thoughts to Vida. ”I liked him. He seemed like a straight-arrow type. Responsible, reliable. He's got a good job, and even if he lost his real home, the condo is very nice and didn't come cheap.”

”In other words,” Vida said dryly, ”not Carol's type anymore.”

”No. But he does have an explosive temper and I would guess that he's living on the edge. That makes him unpredictable, not to mention altering his good judgment.”

”Grasping at the past,” Vida murmured. ”Understandable. But dangerous.”

I couldn't dispute Vida's opinion. Still, I didn't want Darryl to be the killer. ”We're at loose ends,” I announced. ”Maybeth, Roy, Darryl-they're all at work. Henrietta Altdorf may be, too. We've run out of interviewees. What do we do next except visit Ronnie?”

”Henrietta,” Vida said in a musing tone. ”We have only her word for it that she was at work that night, correct?”

”Surely the police questioned her about that,” I said.

”But took her at her word,” Vida noted. ”As we did.”

”Surely you can't suspect Henrietta?” I said, flabbergasted. ”What kind of motive could she possibly have?”

Vida shrugged as she chewed the last of her sausage. ”A quarrel between her and Carol over the noise and carryings-on? Henrietta works long hours. She needs her sleep. And she's no spring chicken.”

”That's not much of a motive,” I remarked.

Vida's expression grew enigmatic. ”Hidden agendas. Dark secrets. Forbidden pa.s.sions.”

I made a face at my House and Home editor. ”You're off base on this one,” I said. ”Henrietta is a very straight-arrow kind of person.”

”You just said the same thing about Darryl,” Vida pointed out.

So I had. We were still going in circles. As we left the restaurant, the shabby man was standing by the driveway into the parking lot. We had no choice but to go right by him.

”Got any spare change?” he mumbled.

Reacting to the Good Samaritan's example in the restaurant, I reached into my wallet and handed the man two one-dollar bills. He mumbled his thanks as I started to move on.

Vida, however, was not so easily gulled. ”See here,” she admonished, ”you look like a healthy specimen. Why don't you have a job?”

The man, who must have been asked that question before, just stared past Vida.

”The economy is quite good,” she went on, ”so I don't understand why you aren't employed. Do you drink?”

The man kept staring, his watery gaze fixed on Aurora's busy traffic.

”Really!” Vida huffed. ”You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” She stomped away in her splayfooted manner.

”You should have saved your breath,” I remarked after we'd gotten into the Lexus. ”He doesn't want to work. And he probably couldn't hold a job. I suspect he has mental problems.”

We reached the driveway just in time to see the object of Vida's disdain get into the backseat of a Yellow Cab and drive away.

Our immediate destination was the jail to check on Ronnie. Vida, however, was warring with herself about seeing my cousin again.

”He's quite useless in terms of information,” she said as we pa.s.sed the old site of Frederick & Nelson, which had been transformed into Nordstrom's flags.h.i.+p store. It was one change I deeply regretted. In its heyday, F&N had been on a merchandising pedestal all by itself, a full-fledged department store that sold everything from English lawn mowers to the latest Paris fas.h.i.+ons.

”I know Ronnie isn't very helpful,” I admitted. ”I'm only going to see him because I feel an obligation. I'd really rather not come back down here over the weekend.”

”We may have to,” Vida said, and I knew it was true. ”If I could figure out some way to get Ronnie to stay with the pertinent facts. If,” she added with a big sigh, ”he'd just divulge some facts in the first place. It's rather like he can't grasp reality, isn't it? What has made him hide from facing up to life?”

I swiveled around to look at Vida. Fortunately, we were at a stoplight in the middle of Fifth Avenue. ”That's it. Ronnie's hiding. He's hiding in jail.” I paused as the light turned green and also to organize my thoughts. ”He finds the world a scary place. Serving time doesn't seem to bother him much. Now, why would anyone feel that way?”

”Because life has become unbearable,” Vida suggested. ”Because it always was.” It was her turn to twist around in the seat and look at me. ”You mentioned that his parents live in Arizona. Why not call them? After all, you are their niece.”

I wondered why I hadn't done it earlier. But Ronnie's vague references to his mother and father had suggested that he'd virtually lost touch with them.

”I will,” I said. ”Maybe I should do it before we see him. We're early for visiting hours, so we have some time to kill.”