Part 24 (1/2)

Vida nodded. ”That's fine. Perhaps Ronnie knows something about Henrietta that we don't. Did you ever inquire?”

”No. I never thought of Henrietta as playing any part in this,” I said, steering the Lexus back onto Greenwood.

”Obviously, I was wrong. There's some connection. But what could it be?”

Vida didn't answer right away. When she did, I noted an odd expression on her face. ”Someone said something this afternoon-but for the life of me, I can't recall exactly what it was. Still, I know that it gave me an idea at the time.”

There was no point in prodding Vida; eventually, she'd retrieve the thought without prompting. Meanwhile she berated both of us for not using the opportunity to search Henrietta's personal possessions.

”We had plenty of time,” she a.s.serted, ”waiting for those detective fools to finish making jokes and get down to business.”

”You know better, Vida,” I said. ”They would have yanked our chain if we'd started shaking down the place.”

”We'd have been more subtle. A trip to the bathroom. A side trip to the bedroom. Really,” she went on, her annoyance building, ”what were we thinking of? There were probably things right there in the kitchen that might have proved helpful.”

”Like a slip of paper stuck to the refrigerator with a Mickey Mouse magnet that said, *The killer is...'?” I made a face. ”I agree, Henrietta knew something dangerous, but I'm not sure it was the killer's ident.i.ty.”

”Why do you say that?” Vida asked, suddenly tense. ”Do you know what you mean?”

To be honest, I didn't. It was one of those utterances that slips out, with no rationale behind it. ”Hunh. I guess I meant that Henrietta knew something that was dangerous to the murderer. Maybe something she didn't even realize she knew.”

”Exactly,” Vida said. ”Now what on earth could it be?”

”Something she'd overheard earlier, before Carol was killed?” I speculated, negotiating my way through the steady build of the city's early commute. ”A quarrel, a visitor, a misdirected piece of mail.” I slapped my hand on the steering wheel. ”d.a.m.n! We never had a chance to ask Maybeth about that envelope addressed to the Addisons.”

”Please don't swear,” Vida said primly. ”Maybeth should be home from work by the time we've seen Ronnie.”

Our departure from Seattle was creeping ever later. Maybe that was just as well. If we left earlier, we'd hit the full commute, no matter which route we took. The two-hour drive wasn't that difficult in good weather. I was, however, uneasy about leaving Amber and Danny alone for too long. One of these days I feared that I'd come home and find my little log house burned to the ground.

Then a brilliant idea struck me. ”When Ronnie gets out of jail,” I said excitedly, ”if he does, of course, I'm going to introduce him to Amber. They're a perfect match. What do you think?”

Vida looked skeptical. ”Isn't he a bit old for her?”

”Ten years, more or less,” I replied. ”Anyway, do you really consider Ronnie that much older emotionally?”

”No,” Vida said, not yet getting caught up in my enthusiasm. ”Really, Emma, I never knew you to be a matchmaker.”

”It's not matchmaking; it's self-defense,” I countered. ”They might do each other some good. Ronnie would have to grow up and act responsibly. Amber would move out of my house. I think it's brilliant.”

”You're dreaming,” Vida said.

Maybe I was. But at the moment it sounded good.

As I sat across from Ronnie for the second time that day, he listened to the news of Henrietta's murder with confusion rather than shock.

”That nurse next door?” he said, wrinkling his nose. ”I don't get it.”

”Henrietta must have known Carol better than I realized,” I said. ”Can you think of anything Carol might have confided in Henrietta that would have put her life in danger?”

Ronnie didn't bother to reflect. ”Nope.”

”Come on, Ronnie,” I urged. ”This is important. Did they talk to each other sometimes?”

”Nope.” He reached up to adjust his bandage. ”My ear still hurts. I need some painkillers.”

An idea occurred to me. ”Did Henrietta ever give you or Carol painkillers?”

”Huh?” Ronnie rubbed at his upper lip. ”Yeah, maybe a coupla times. I hit my head on a ladder on the truck once. That nurse said she had something to help. I forget what she gave me, but it worked. Then another time Carol dropped a case of smoked tuna on her foot at the seafood place where she worked. Carol got some of those pills, too.”

”Is that all?” I asked.

”Far as I remember,” Ronnie replied. ”How's Buddy?”

”Fine.” I'd forgotten about Buddy. For all I knew, he was decorating the grillwork on somebody's car. ”You're sure? Henrietta didn't drop in often?”

Ronnie shook his head. ”Nope. Never, far as I remember. I went to her place to get them pills.”

Apparently, Ronnie hadn't yet drawn any conclusions about Henrietta's murder. ”Do you realize that there's a good chance you may be able to get out of here soon?” I asked.

”Huh?” Ronnie looked blank. ”How come?”

”Because,” I said patiently, ”the police will figure out that there must be a connection between two murders that occurred next door to each other. Since you were in jail when the last one happened, you couldn't have done it. Thus they'll realize you probably didn't kill Carol, either.”

”I didn't,” Ronnie said simply.

”I know that,” I said, still patient. ”But it would help a lot if you could remember more about Henrietta and Carol.”

”Carol didn't like Henrietta,” Ronnie said after a long pause. ”She said she was a busybody. One time-I forgot till now-Carol went over there to borrow a lightbulb. It was a month or so ago. She was gone for quite a while, and I thought maybe she'd run to the store instead. Anyways, when Carol came back, she was all wrought up. I asked her how come, but she wouldn't say. She just got mad at me and...” He ducked his head.

I could guess the rest. Carol had taken her anger and distress out on poor Ronnie. It's a wonder he hadn't asked Henrietta for more painkillers.

”Did Carol say what got her so upset?” I inquired.

Ronnie shook his head again. ”Not really. But I think she got riled up over something Henrietta said about Kendra.”

”Kendra?”

”Yeah. I never seen Carol so p.i.s.sed off. She was almost cryin'. She called Henrietta a big fat old liar.”

I was surprised by the incident, amazed that Ronnie could have forgotten about it until I prodded him. But Carol must have thrown many a temper tantrum. Maybe Ronnie only recalled them in relations.h.i.+p to his own wounds.

”Do you,” I asked slowly, ”remember anything at all that Henrietta said to Carol about Kendra? Any phrase, any words?”

This time Ronnie put some effort into his response. ”It was hard to catch, what with Carol carryin' on so. But maybe it was something like... I don't recall exactly... but like *There's no way Kendra could be your daughter.' ”

I frowned at Ronnie. ”Do you know why Henrietta said that?”

”Nope.” Ronnie fished out a cigarette from behind his undamaged ear. ”Can I go back now?”

”Sure,” I said, and tried to smile.