“That’s the thing about retirement. People keep asking me, don’t you miss work? Well, no way, José. I could go the rest of my life and never leave this porch. I’m so busy as it is I can’t figure out how I ever had time for a job. Between housework and errands, there’s half the day gone right there.”
“What else do you do?”
“Read. I work in the yard, play bridge with some gals I’ve known for years. How about you? You like the work you do?”
“I’m not that crazy about being stuck indoors, but the field work’s fun.”
“So now. What can I tell you that you don’t already know?”
“One thing I was curious about. Gull Cove is thirty miles south. Seems like a long way to drive for work you could have found in town.”
Roxanne coughed again, clearing her throat. As with other smokers I’ve known, her coughing was habitual and didn’t seem to warrant a remark. “That’s easy. I was diddling the owner. That’s how I got hired.” She laughed. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. He moved on to someone else and I got fired. Big surprise. My fault entirely. It’s like Pop used to say, ‘Don’t shit in your own Post Toasties, Roxanne.’”
“Live and learn.”
“You got that right. Anyway, I was working seven to three. This was summer and hotter than blue blazes, even with the breeze coming in off the ocean. You know the place at all?”
“Actually, I stopped off there on the drive up.”
“Then you’ve seen for yourself. Not a shade tree in sight; building stuck there on the side of the hill. By August the sun’s hot enough to boil water. Anyway, this was a Friday morning. I remember because I got paid once a week and I had bills up to here. So I’m working away—it’s just me by my lonesome. Business was never heavy and I could handle it myself. This gal comes in. She’s checking the aisles, walking up and down like she has some shopping to do. Then I see her move to the rear where we had a coffee machine and a self-serve case of deli sandwiches and sweets. Customers would serve themselves, then come to the register to pay once they had everything they needed. We kept tables and chairs outside on the deck and most of ’em would take their purchases out there and watch the ocean while they ate. You had to look over the four lanes of traffic whizzing by on the road, but you could see it all the same. Different every day. I never got tired of the sight myself. Any rate, she helped herself to a cup of coffee and a doughnut and had both of them scarfed down by the time she got to the front. She’d tossed the cup somewhere in back, maybe thinking I wouldn’t notice she’d just had her fill. Next thing I know, she’s halfway out the door. I rang up the charges and then I caught up with her. That’s when she told me she was broke. Well, hell, I thought. I’ve been broke in my day and I don’t begrudge anyone some brew and a bite to eat, so I told her I’d take care of it. She said, ‘Thanks. I mean that.’ Those were her exact words. ‘Thanks. I mean that.’ And off she went. Couldn’t have taken more than four minutes all told, and I’m talking from the time she came in.”
“I’m surprised you remembered her at all.”
“Somebody tries to run out without paying? You better believe I remembered. Especially when she turned up dead.” She paused to stub out one cigarette and light another. “Pardon my manners. I hope this doesn’t bother you. Do you smoke?”
“No, but we’re outside and I’m upwind. What else do you recall? Anything in particular?” I wondered how anyone could remember so brief an encounter after so much time had passed.
“Like what? Ask me questions. It’s easier that way.”
“How old would you say?”
“Twenties.”
“Not in her teens?”
“Could have been. She was a good-sized girl.”
“You mean fat?”
“I wouldn’t say fat, but she was big. Big wrist bones, big feet. Had what Pop would call good child-bearing hips.”
“You remember her clothes?”
“Oh lord, I think I gave that sheriff’s detective all this same information at the time. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I thought I’d go back over and see if anything new comes to light,” I said.
“Pants and a blousy shirt—you know, big sleeves.”
“Belt?”
She feigned irritation, giving me a mock cross look. “You get right down to the nitty-gritty, don’t you? Scars, moles, other identifying marks? What do you want? I only saw the girl up close once.”
“Sorry. I take it she wasn’t wearing a belt.”
“Don’t think so.”
I could feel her withdraw and knew I needed to pull her back. “What about her shoes?”
“I’d say boots if I had to guess.”
“It’s not multiple choice. Just whatever comes to mind. Take the pants. Were they patterned or plain?”
She brightened. “Now, that I do know. It’s what I told the cops back then. Daisies.”
“You remember the color?”
She shrugged. “Daisy colored. You know, yellow and white. Probably some green in there someplace. Is that important?”
“I’m just groping around. What about the shirt?”
“Plain. I hope you don’t intend to ask me every little thing.”
I smiled. “Really, I don’t. Was the shirt dark or light?”
“Dark blue voile.”
“Which is what? Sorry, but I don’t know the term.”
“I’m not sure myself, but I know that’s right because I went back and looked it up.”
“You kept notes?”
“I kept the clipping from the paper. It’s in the other room.”
I could hear a dim alarm bell ring. What I was getting was rehearsed. “Did you get the impression she was local or on the road?”
“Traveling, definitely. I saw her hitchhiking earlier when I was coming in to work. I’m sure she hadn’t eaten in a while. She wolfed her food right down.”
“She could have been stoned,” I said.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. She probably was, come to think of it. That might explain where her money went. She spent it all on dope.”
“Just a possibility. I wonder how far she managed to travel without funds. Or do you think she had the money and just didn’t choose to spend it on food?”
“Hard to say. If I hadn’t volunteered to pay, she’d have tennis-shoed the place so I’d’ve been stuck either way. Bet she panhandled, too. Your age, you probably don’t remember those days.”
“Actually, I do. I was in my late teens.”
“Point is, all those hippies hung out, cadging any change you had. Smoking these big fat joints. I forget now what they called ’em. Thumbs, I think. Me, I wasn’t into that. Well, maybe a little grass, but never any LSD.”
I murmured a response and then said, “Was she wearing jewelry?”
“Nope. Don’t think so.”
“No watch or bracelet? Maybe earrings?”
“Oh. I remember now. No earrings. Her left earlobe was torn through. Like somebody’d grabbed a hoop and ripped it right off.”
“Was the injury recent?”
“Nope. It was all healed up, but it was definitely split.”
“What about her fingernails?”
“Bitten to the quick. Nearly made me sick. She wasn’t all that clean, and she’d picked at her cuticles until they bled. You ever see that? Nails so short the fingertips look all puffy. It’s enough to make you lose your lunch.”
“And you’re sure you’d never seen her around town before.”
“Not before and not since.”
“How’d you happen to get in touch with the Sheriff’s Department?”
“I didn’t ‘happen’ to do anything. I read about the body in the paper and remembered she’d been in. Like I said before, the incident stuck in my mind because she tried to pull a fast one.”
“What made you so sure it was the same girl?”
“Who else could it’ve been?”
“Ah. Well, this has be
en a big help. I appreciate your time.” I reached out to shake her hand.
She complied reluctantly. “Don’t you believe me? I notice you didn’t take notes.”
“I got it all up here,” I said, tapping my head.
Once back in my car, I checked my road map. Roxanne was still on the porch looking out at me, probably wondering at the delay. Maybe she thought I was finally taking notes, recording the bullshit recollections she’d constructed over the years. I didn’t think she’d lied. She’d simply told her story too often. By now, she was either vamping like crazy or remembering someone else. I folded the map in half, trying to gauge how far I might be from the ranch. If I continued south on Riverside and made a dogleg right, I’d hit the road that angled south and east, connecting with Highway 101 just about at Gull Cove. According to the map, the road was called Calle LeGrand, presumably named after my great-grandfather LeGrand, whose twenty-three thousand acres filled a sizeable chunk of the area. Twisting hairlike blue lines indicated creeks running through the land.
I started the VW and waved at Roxanne once as I pulled away. The last I saw of her she was sitting on the porch swing, a fresh cigarette in hand, taking yet another sip of beer.
I picked up Calle LeGrand and followed the road south, through low rolling gold hills that would turn as green as Ireland when the rains returned. In the areas where there were no structures in sight, I fancied I was looking through the eyes of the early settlers, marveling at the acres of untouched land, bare and silent except for the cries of birds. I missed the turn to the ranch and had to circle back when I realized I’d gone too far. On the return, I saw the side road where Stacey and Dolan and I had met Arne Johanson. The gate now stood open and a haze of dust on the gravel road suggested that a vehicle had recently passed that way.
I turned in, driving slowly, my attention drawn to the gulley where Jane Doe’s body had been found. I could see now that a section of the road angled off to the left, ending in a cul-de-sac, and I remembered the passing reference to the VW van that was seen parked in the turnaround. Also, a red convertible with out-of-state plates. Offhand, I couldn’t remember the name of the fellow who’d called it in, but the report might bear revisiting, as Arne had suggested. Somebody Vogel. I’d have to look it up. I eased the car up the hill, following the route Arne had taken in his Jeep. I was really hoping the No Trespassing signs didn’t apply to me.
The house came into view, looking like something in an old horror film. I parked in the driveway and approached with a curious mix of anxiety and excitement. Bare wooden trellises affixed to the porch rails at intervals suggested that roses or morning glories might have climbed there once. Now the beds were overgrown. I climbed the front porch stairs, which seemed remarkably sound. The house, though a shambles, had been built to last. I remembered talk at some point of moving the house into the city limits, restoring it as a possible tourist attraction. I could see where the city would be reluctant to make a claim. Even the idea of renovating the house in situ would be an expensive proposition. To what end?
I tried the front door and to my surprise I found it unlocked.
I pushed it open and went in, assaulted by the dense smell of soot and mildew. I spent the next thirty minutes wandering from floor to floor, sometimes awed at the grandeur that remained. High ceilings, the sweeping staircase in the foyer, all the marble and mahogany still gracing the rooms. A large butler’s pantry opened into a vast kitchen with servants quarters built on behind. A second staircase led up to the second floor from there. I could feel memory stir. Vague images, shapeless and filled with shadows, moved at the edge of my vision. I could hear sounds, talking and laughing in another room, without being able to distinguish the words.
I was standing on the wide second-floor landing when I heard someone walking in the hall below. From the bottom of the stairs, someone called, “Kinsey?”
For one wonderful moment, the voice was my mother’s and she’d returned from the dead.
7
I crossed to the banister and peered over the railing. Tasha stood in the stairwell, looking up. “I saw your car parked outside.”
“I’ll come down.”
I descended the stairs, embarrassed that I’d been caught poking around the house uninvited. She’d taken a seat on the third step up, leaning against the wall. I settled on the same step, sitting close to the rail.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Arne saw your car pull in and called me. My office isn’t that far.” She was dressed in lawyer clothes: a crisp navy-blue pantsuit with a white silk shell under the two-button jacket. She wore pearls. I’d always heard you could tell real pearls from fake by running them across your teeth, but I wasn’t clear what information that was meant to impart. I thought it’d be rude to ask if I could bite her necklace. She had dark eyes, delicately enhanced with a smoky eyeliner, a straight nose where mine was ever so faintly bumpy from having been broken twice. Her dark hair was tastefully highlighted with blond and pulled into a rope at the nape of her neck. I could see a bow of red chiffon peeking into view from the hair clip behind.
It’s odd to see someone you know looks like you. The face we see in the mirror is always reversed so that our impression of ourselves is flipped left to right. If you stand in front of a mirror and put your right index finger against your right cheek, the mirror will tell you you’re touching left to left. The only way you can see yourself as you appear to others is to hold a mirror to the mirror and check your image in that. What I saw now of Tasha was what others saw of me. Already, I liked her face a lot better than mine. I usually ignore my own looks, not from distaste, but from a sense of despair. So many women have mastered an arsenal of beauty products: foundation, powder, blusher, eye shadow, pencils for lining their eyes, brows, and lips. As a rule, I avoid makeup, having little experience with the selection and application process.
It was clear at a glance that Tasha knew her stuff. I couldn’t identify all the kinds of goop on her face, but she’d tinted herself with care. Her skin had a healthy glow, her cheeks showed a hint of pink, and her eyes looked enormous because her lashes were so thick. I could see her assessing me while I assessed her. We smiled at the same time, which only furthered the notion we were looking at ourselves. We had identical teeth.
She said, “After our telephone conversation, I had a long talk with Mom. Her version of events is different.”
“Oh, really. How so?”
“She says your parents made that trip to meet with Grand and Granddaddy in hopes of a reconciliation. They were killed on the way. Grand blamed herself. Aunt Gin blamed her, too. Mom says Grand tried to keep in touch, but Gin was having none of it. Finally, Grand gave up, but only after years of trying to make contact.”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe it.”
“I’m not asking you to believe. I’m telling you what Mother said.”
“Well, of course she’d say that. She’s still tied into Grand. How can you afford to think ill of someone who has the power to pull the rug out from under you? You’d do just about anything to see them as good no matter what they’ve done.”
“Kinsey, if you really want to find out what went on back then, you can’t start by rejecting the messages you don’t want to hear. There are two sides to every story. That’s why we have the courts. To settle disputes.”
“Oh, right. Compare this to litigation. That’ll win you points,” I said. “Most people can’t stand lawyers. I’m one of the few with any respect for the trade.” I stopped. I stared down at the floor for a moment and then shook my head. “I’m sorry. Forget it. I didn’t mean to get into it with you again.”
Tasha smiled slightly. “I told you we couldn’t talk without hassling.”
“You set me off.”
“That’s not my intent.”
“I know. The hard part is that neither of us has any concrete proof. We can do this ‘Did too! Did not!’ routine until the cows come home. It’s Grand’s word against Aunt Gi
n’s, or my mother’s word against your mom’s. There is no fact of the matter.”
“Probably not. Just keep an open mind. That’s really all I ask.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. My mind’s been made up since the day I met Liza. I wasn’t interested then and I’m probably not interested now.”
“At least you use the word ‘probably.’ That’s progress, isn’t it? You used to be adamant. Now you’re obdurate.”
“Which means what?”
“Resistant, but less flinty. It’s a big improvement.”
The comment seemed patronizing, but I shrugged it off. Why take offense when she might not have actually meant it that way? I said, “It feels like unfinished business and that bothers me. Regardless of how it comes out, I’d like to think I’m doing the right thing.”
“That works both ways. We’re having to go back and revisit the past, which is good for all of us. The point is, we have time to work this out.”
“Thirty-two years of it so far.”
“So what’s thirty-two more? We can’t settle a long-standing quarrel in a few casual talks.” She glanced at her watch and then rose. “I have to get back to work. Did you finish the tour?”
I pulled myself up. “Essentially. I hoped I’d remember something, but I’m drawing a blank.” The two of us paused simultaneously to brush off the backs of our pants.
We crossed to the front door, our shoes making scratching sounds in the grit that had accumulated on the marble floor. She said, “What do you think of the place?”
“It must have been beautiful in its day.”
Tasha turned back, letting her eyes travel across the foyer and up the stairs. “You know Grand moved out shortly after Aunt Rita’s death.” Rita Cynthia Kinsey was my mother’s maiden name.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Granddaddy Kinsey was fit to be tied, but she finally got her way. That’s when they bought the house in town. You remember him at all?”
I shook my head.
“Maybe I can find some family photographs.”