35
After I hung up, I sat for a moment, trying to understand what effect his considered opinion might have. Munce’s views reinforced my suspicion that Ned Lowe hastened Lenore’s death without providing tangible support. I believed I was on the right track, but what good is belief without corroborating evidence?
I still hadn’t met Ned’s current wife, so maybe it was time I talked to Celeste. I couldn’t understand how any woman would be attracted to him, but people tell me I’m way too picky, so perhaps I’m the wrong one to ask. Not that anyone had asked me.
I sorted through my notes until I found April’s home number and put in a call. When she picked up the line on her end, I said, “This is Kinsey Millhone. I was wondering if you could give me a phone number for Celeste?”
“I can’t believe you’re calling me. I was just about to pick up the phone and call you.”
“A happy coincidence. What’s going on?”
“I did something dumb and I thought I better let you know. Promise you won’t get mad.”
“Why don’t you just say what you did before you ask for a guarantee?”
“Dad and Celeste came up for dinner last night.”
“Okay.”
“You remember the framed photograph of my grandmother with my father sitting on her lap?”
“How could I forget? I just gave it to you.”
“I know. I really love that picture and I was so happy to have a link to the past.”
“That you did what?”
“I set it on the bookshelf in our bedroom. You can’t even see it from the door, so I didn’t think there was any way Dad would spot it. He never goes in that part of the house; I can’t imagine what possessed him.”
“He knew I wanted to deliver something, so he was probably on the alert for anything new or different.”
“That’s the only explanation I can think of because I swear I never said a word about our conversation. I just feel so bad about this.”
“Go on.”
“At one point while we were eating dinner, he excused himself and went off to the bathroom. That’s the only time he left the table. Usually he uses the powder room in the hall, but for some reason, he must have chosen the bathroom off the master bedroom. When he came back, I noticed he was withdrawn. I asked what was wrong, but he waved it aside. He and Celeste left earlier than usual, but I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t realize there was a problem until she called this morning. She said he was livid about the photograph. I guess the two of them got into a terrible fight on the way home. She said I should be able to display a picture of my own grandmother anywhere I wanted and he was making a big fuss over nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bright move. I thought you said she was such a mouse. Surely she’s aware he’s touchy on the subject of his mother.”
“I know, but she’d had a couple of drinks and I guess it just came out. Now she says he’s furious with both of us and in a rage at you because he blames you for everything.”
“She had drinks? I thought you said she was in AA.”
“She didn’t have them here. She belted down a couple before they left home. I didn’t see any sign of inebriation, but he says she’s the master at hiding it.”
“When did you talk to him?”
“He called right before she did. He says she’s blown the whole thing out of proportion. He admitted he was unhappy about the photograph, but now he’s fine with it. He says she’s the one who’s going off the deep end and he’s seriously concerned.”
“He thinks she’s cracking up?”
“Well, yes. I mean, he said he didn’t want me to worry, but of course I do, which is why I’m calling. I know it’s an imposition, but is there any way you could stop by the house and make sure she’s okay? As Dad points out, if she’s drinking again, we could end up with a mess on our hands.”
“I don’t mean to sound cranky, but why don’t you do that? She’s your stepmother.”
“They live in Cottonwood, which is closer to you than it is to me. I have a doctor’s appointment in forty minutes, so I don’t have time to get down there and back. All you have to do is reassure her he’s cooled down. He said he talked to her this morning ’til he was blue in the face. He thinks she’s close to a nervous breakdown.”
“What if I knock and he comes to the door? He’s already in a rage.”
“He’s not home. He called me from work. He has meetings this morning and he won’t be free until noon. He’s making his annual photographic retreat and he leaves town first thing in the morning. He’s taking the afternoon off work to get everything done. I wouldn’t press you to go down there, but he reminded me in the past she’s talked about, you know, doing away with herself.”
I could feel a tickle on the back of my neck, a spider of fear crawling along my collar.
“Give me the address and phone number.”
• • •
The drive to Cottonwood took less than fifteen minutes. I wasn’t sure what Celeste would make of my appearance on her doorstep. Her fight with Ned was obviously none of my business, but if she didn’t want to talk to me, she could simply say so. I cruised the neighborhood, searching for the house number, which fell in the middle of the block. I parked on the nearest side street and walked back.
Celeste and Ned Lowe lived in what was probably a sixteen-hundred-square-foot one-story board-and-batten house painted a soft gray, with a shake roof, solar panels, and a living room with a bay window. I was guessing two bedrooms, two baths, and a kitchen in desperate need of rehabilitation. There was no sign of Ned’s black sedan in the driveway. The garage doors were closed and I had no way of knowing if his car and hers were tucked away inside. I’d have to take April’s word for his being tied up at work.
I rang the bell, staring out at the driveway while I waited. There was an older-model aluminum-and-galvanized-steel Argosy Motorhome parked in the side yard, white with a brown stripe that ran around its middle. The back end of the vehicle was rounded, and a unit affixed to the top suggested a working air conditioner. The license plate read FOTO BIZ, which I assumed referred to Ned’s photography.
Decals from countless tourist stops had been applied in a tidy line along the brown painted stripe. This was a history of Ned’s travels spelled out one town at a time in a series of slogans. FALLOWAY, TX: HAPPIEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WEST. PARADISE, AZ: GHOST TOWN OF COCHISE COUNTY. PRAIRIE, NV: HOST OF THE 1985 WILD WEST RODEO.
The door was opened and Celeste stared out at me, fair-haired and pale.
“Celeste?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Kinsey. I’m a friend of April’s. She asked me to stop by and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“May I come in?”
She didn’t look me in the eye and she didn’t reply, but she didn’t close the door in my face, which I took as a good sign. She considered my request and then stepped back. I entered the house and followed her into the living room, noting that she sat in a chair that allowed her to keep an eye on the street through the picture window in the front. She was tense and thin in the manner of someone with an eating disorder. Her dark eyes were at odds with her fair coloring and seemed enormous in the delicate oval of her face.
“Are you expecting Ned? April told me he’s tied up in meetings until noon.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. He says things like that all the time and then pops in unexpectedly, hoping to catch me unawares. He likes to keep me on my toes.”
On the wall behind her, there were two enlarged black-and-white photographs that I assumed were Ned’s. Over the fireplace, there were two more in stark black frames. He was apparently fascinated with rock formations: limestone worn down by chemical weathering; sedimentary layers undulating along a ridge; granite outcroppings; a massive sandstone bed that had eroded int
o a single towering crag. Striking, but cold.
“Are those his?”
She nodded. “He hopes to retire from his sales job and make a living from his photography. That’s part of what he does on his annual treks: he goes to galleries to show his portfolio.”
Her tone of voice had the flat quality of someone reading from a script. She seemed to wear her passivity like a Kevlar vest. Getting through to her would be impossible unless I could find a way to gain her trust. “Do his prints sell?”
Her smile was brief. “Lately, they have.”
“April says he’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Unless he cancels or delays or changes his mind.”
“Where’s he going this time?”
“He says I don’t need to know. If I press him for information, he says I’m trying to control his every move.”
“When, in fact, that’s what he’s doing to you,” I said.
She gave one of those little half shrugs.
“Are you okay? You seem to be operating in a fog.”
“Ned says I’m depressed.”
“Do you have an opinion of your own?”
“That’s what the drinking was about. I’ve been depressed all my life and that’s how I made myself feel better.”
“But you’re not drinking now.”
“I’ve been clean and sober for four and a half years.”
“That’s great. I’m not sure I could do that myself,” I said. “I understand the two of you got into a disagreement last night.”
“My fault. I should have kept my mouth shut. When I called April this morning, I was upset. I’m better now.”
“Are you aware that he called her just before you did?”
“Oh. She didn’t say anything about that.”
“He told her you were drinking again, which is one of the reasons she was so concerned?”
“He tells people at work the same thing. I know because one of his coworkers called me and offered to help. He told her I was flipping out.”
“This doesn’t sound like a wonderful way to live.”
“I’m used to it, I guess,” she said. “Why are you so concerned?”
“I was a friend of Pete Wolinsky’s. He contacted you a year ago, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “He was concerned about my safety. He believed Ned was dangerous and I needed some way to protect myself. Leverage, he called it.”
“What’s wrong with running for your life?”
“Where would I go?”
“There are shelters for women who need help.”
“Ned knows where they are. He has friends in law enforcement. He can get any address he wants.”
“That’s bullshit. He’d feeding you a load of crap.”
“I don’t think so. The one time I left, he killed his own dog. Took him out in the backyard and shot him in the head. He said it broke his heart, but he wanted me to understand how serious he was about our relationship. No one leaves him.”
“Did Pete have an idea about how to get you out of here?”
“He put me in touch with Ned’s second wife.”
The answer was so unexpected, I squinted. “Phyllis?”
“I met her for coffee. He said it would be good for me to talk to a woman who was sure of herself and strong. One who’d gotten away from him.”
“That sounds like Phyllis,” I said. “I haven’t met her, but I talked to her on the phone.”
“She was great. She could tell I was scared to death of Ned and she tried to set me straight. She says everyone’s vulnerable somewhere and she thinks photography is Ned’s Achilles’ heel. She’s an accountant and when they were married she was on him all the time about keeping better records. She told him if he could show a profit from his photography, he could deduct ordinary and necessary expenses. He’d have to hang on to his receipts, but how hard is that? He didn’t like the idea. Most of the time, he’s paid under the table and he doesn’t want to declare the income. He says as long as he keeps his mouth shut, the government won’t find out.”
“A lot of people feel the same way until they’re caught.”
“She said if he’s falsifying his tax returns, I can put in a call to the IRS and let the Feds take care of him.”
“No offense, Celeste, but if he’s willing to kill his own dog, Ned’s not worried about the IRS.”
“That was Pete’s response as well, but he thought it was a starting place. Ned’s secretive. I’m not supposed to touch anything of his. In particular, I’m not allowed in his darkroom. He keeps it locked and he’s warned me a hundred times I’m not to go in there.”
“Please tell me you had the gumption to disobey the man.”
Her smile wasn’t expansive, but it was the first time I’d seen the real Celeste peek out of her eyes. “I did. Pete pushed me to do it. Ned’s job keeps him on the road part of every month. The next time he went off on a business trip, I searched the house. I found a key in an old floor register under the wall-to-wall carpet in the hall. Once I knew where he’d hidden it, I could let myself in anytime I wanted.”
“Good for you,” I said.
“Not really, but Pete thought I was doing great.”
“And Ned didn’t catch on?”
“It didn’t seem to occur to him. It was the first time I realized he wasn’t all-seeing and all-powerful. Next chance I had, I went into the darkroom. That was disappointing. Most of what he has in there is standard photographic supplies: cameras, film, chemicals, developing tanks. Things like that. File after file of photographs, proof sheets, negatives. One file cabinet he kept locked, but by then I understood how his mind worked. He’d hidden that key and a smaller one in a film canister on the shelf above the sink in there. In the bottom drawer, there was a locked metal box that the smaller key fit. Inside, there were receipts and some other stuff.”
“Receipts for what?”
“Motels, restaurants, gasoline.”
“You think he decided to play by the rules?”
“Maybe he’s beginning to think of photography as a real business instead of something he does on the side. He says he may be making a big change.”
“What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know and I wouldn’t ask.”
“What else was in the box? You mentioned other stuff.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know; ticket stubs, a couple of parking passes for the wilderness areas he visits. He likes camping in the back country, which is where he does some of his photo shoots.”
“What did you do with the box?”
“I took everything out and put it in an envelope for Pete and then locked the box in the drawer. Pete said he’d do an inventory so we’d know what we had. What happened, though, was someone offered him a job that he felt he had to take. He hadn’t worked in months because of the research he was doing on Ned.”
“Does Ned know what happened to the stuff in the box?”
“He does now. I told him I gave it to a friend of mine for safekeeping and if anything happens to me, it’ll all be turned over to the police. That really made him crazy. At first, he thought I was lying, that maybe I’d hidden it here, so he tore the house apart. I don’t know what he’s doing now. I know he hasn’t given up. He wants that envelope.”
“Is he aware Pete was helping you?”
“Probably. He heard Pete was asking questions about him up in Burning Oaks. You can imagine how popular that notion was. Once Pete got killed, it was like Ned went underground. I think he was trying to figure out if his precious stuff was still out there somewhere. In the meantime, I can’t say he’s nice to me, but at least he doesn’t threaten me so much.”
I stared at her. “Do you know how crazy you sound?”
“I was crazy all the years I put up with his abuse. Now I’ve got him rig
ht there.” The gesture she made would have been appropriate for pinching a bug between her thumb and index finger.
“What happens if he realizes you’re as clueless as he is?”
“I hope to be gone by then. If not, I’ll shoot him with the same gun he used to kill his dog and plead temporary insanity. Given what he’s told everyone about my mental state, who could believe otherwise?”
“I don’t understand what you’re waiting for. Why not get in the car and go while you can?”
She shook her head. “For the moment, he’s convinced everything’s fine, which means he’ll go away as planned. If he suspects anything’s amiss, he’ll cancel his trip. If I can just get him out of here, I’ll have a three-day head start.”
I was shaking my head in despair, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t see an alternative. She knew him better than I did. I wanted to put her in the car and hightail it out of there, but I couldn’t talk her into it. “I guess you know what you’re doing,” I said.
“Oh, right. Something I forgot about. Along with the ticket stubs and stuff like that, he had this junky bunch of costume jewelry; mostly earrings. They were in with the rest of his souvenirs.”
I felt my heart catch. “Souvenirs?”
“Well, not souvenirs exactly, but mementos; reminders of where he’s been.”
I pressed a business card into her hand. “I want you to call me as soon as you’re somewhere safe. I mean this. If you need me to drive down and pick you up, just say the word.”
“I will.”
“Do you swear?”
She raised her right hand and I took that as an oath.
36
When I got home, I shuffled through my index cards until I’d found Christian Satterfield’s home phone number. The last time I’d called, Pauline had made short work of me. I was still operating on the assumption she was Christian’s grandmother. This time when I dialed, I had a better handle on the situation.
After two rings, she picked up with the same gruff “Hello.”
I said, “Hi, Pauline. This is Kinsey. You remember me? Christian’s friend. We met when you and Geraldine were living over on Dave Levine Street.”