Murder by Proxy

  Nine

  Arriving at the house, Edna pulled into the garage, as she and Grant had discussed. The Celica had no air conditioning, and Grant said the car would be like an oven if it sat in the Colorado sun, regardless of how cool the air temperature was outside. She pressed the remote that was clipped to the sun visor. As the garage door buzzed and clanked its descent, she turned and pushed herself out of the driver's seat. When she did so, she glanced backward in time to see the lower half of a shiny black coupe moving slowly past the house. She bent, hoping to catch sight of the driver, but the garage door dropped too quickly.

  Was it the same car? There must be more than one new-looking black vehicle in the area. She suddenly thought of Jillian. What if the car belonged to a child molester? What if he was casing the neighborhood, waiting for a chance to grab some unsuspecting youngster? If it was the same car she had seen in the neighborhood yesterday, what was it doing at Grant's office today? She must try to get the license plate number. Maybe Ernie could get the owner's name for her.

  Hurrying into the house and over to the wide living room window, she parted the filmy white curtains to look into the street. No black car in sight. As a matter of fact, there were no cars on the street at all, parked or moving. She turned and strode down the hall, hearing voices and laughter before she reached Karissa's bedroom door.

  Entering the room, she saw her daughter-in-law lying in her usual position on her left side, surrounded by pillows. This afternoon the rest of the bed was almost completely covered with magazines. A woman she hadn't met before was sitting on a chair beside the bed. The two women were flipping through the publications, showing each other different pages and chattering away like a couple of magpies.

  “Edna, you're home.” Karissa, looking up from an issue of Oprah, sounded happy to see her. “Come meet my friend Sudie.”

  The stout woman, her dark hair woven into a single long braid that hung down her back, smiled and nodded, trying to stand as she clutched at a small stack of magazines in her lap. “I'm happy to meet you.”

  “Please don't get up. It's nice to meet you, too.” Edna nodded her acknowledgment of the introduction before turning to Karissa. “Where's Jillian? Is she home from school?”

  Her daughter-in-law frowned. “She's spending the afternoon at a friend's. Hallie's mom called to ask if it was okay. Why? Is something wrong? You look worried.”

  “I just saw a black car drive by. I saw the same one yesterday. At least, it looked like the same one.” Listening to her own words, she realized again she might be mistaken about the car. She knew nothing about automobiles except that the one she had seen on both occasions was small, sporty looking, and seemed well cared for. “Do you know if anyone around here drives a shiny black car with tinted windows?”

  Sudie and Karissa looked at each other as if communicating by mental telepathy. After a few faint facial and shoulder gestures, they both turned back to her. “No,” Sudie said with an accent so slight Edna wondered if she had imagined it. “I live across the street, two houses down.” She waved vaguely to her left. “The car you describe doesn't sound like one I've seen around.”

  “Didn't Tio get home from the service a few days ago?” Karissa asked Sudie.

  “He was supposed to, but I haven't seen him yet.” She turned to Edna, explaining, “Antonio's my next door neighbor's boy. Karissa's right. It might be his car. I'll call over there tonight and ask them just to be sure.”

  Feeling only slightly better, she left the two women to their magazines and went to change into slacks and a pullover. Having the afternoon unexpectedly to herself, she felt at loose ends. She wanted to talk to Ernie, tell him what she had learned about Anita, but she had no way of contacting him. Thinking of Anita reminded her that she wanted to browse back issues of the local newspapers to see what she could find out about the Colliers' accident.

  Edna let Karissa know where she was going and set off on foot. She didn't see a black car but kept an eye out for one as she walked six blocks to the library. She and Albert had discovered the place on one of their jaunts around the area, and she had been meaning to go back, delighted to know it was so close.

  Inside the small, single-story brick building, Edna quickly found the newspaper and magazine racks. She selected several back issues of the Arvada Sentinel and took them to a nearby table. The article she was looking for was in the third issue she perused, six weeks back, under the headline “Couple Killed in Auto Crash.” The short piece barely described the accident, saying only that the brakes had failed as the car descended the hill at Sixty-Ninth and Ward Road. One witness, a man who had been about to cross at the walk located north of the accident site, saw the car descending much too fast before it veered out of control. The car jumped the curb and sideswiped a lamp post before rolling onto its top and coming to rest against a wooden fence. From other reports, police believed Collier swerved to avoid a cat, which probably caused him to lose control of the vehicle. Both Harrington Collier and his wife Loretta were pronounced dead at the scene.

  After reading the article Edna sat staring down at the newsprint, thinking how quickly one's life could change. She folded the papers and returned them to the racks, sad and depressed. As she walked home, she wondered what it must feel like for a young woman to lose both parents in such a senseless manner. Two fatal accidents. No, three, she thought, remembering Michele's disaster last winter. Anita had recently lost not only her parents but two close friends.

  Sudie was gone by the time Edna got back to the house. Karissa was lying on the couch in the living room with several throw pillows supporting her shoulders and head. After hanging up her coat and hat, Edna stood before the entryway mirror to fluff her curls back into place, noticing as she did so the sadness in her eyes. She made a determined effort to look more cheerful than she felt as she went to sit near Karissa. Her daughter-in-law was leafing through an issue of Sewing World.

  Grabbing onto the topic as a distraction from her dismal thoughts, she said, “Do you sew?”

  “Yes. I make all my clothes. Jillian's too,” Karissa added, smiling shyly.

  Thinking back to some of the outfits she had seen on her granddaughter, Edna's eyes widened in amazement. “Even her jerseys and slacks?”

  “Yes, everything. I made her a down parka last winter.”

  Before this, she had thought Karissa a spendthrift with all her talk about shopping and her constant leafing through magazines. Now she realized her daughter-in-law must be gathering ideas for styles. She was trying to adjust to this new mental image of Karissa when Jillian burst through the front door.

  “I'm home,” the youngster shouted to the room, tossing a small red backpack at the closet door and heading into the living room.

  Edna's heart warmed at the sight of the child, although she mentally shook her head at the careless way Jillian discarded her belongings.

  Karissa laughed and shouted back without sitting up, “Hi, Jilly. Glad you're home.” Then, in a more subdued voice, she said, “Did I just hear a backpack hit the floor?”

  Apparently Jillian had been reprimanded before because without losing a step, she spun around and headed back to the entryway. “Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry.” She picked up her pack, opened the closet and hung it on one of several low hooks that had obviously been installed for her on the back of the door.

  Edna watched in amusement as Jillian flounced over to give her grandmother a hug before bestowing a quick kiss on Karissa's cheek. She then lifted the magazine to see what her stepmother was reading.

  “You miss making things, don't you?” she said, perching on the edge of the sofa as Karissa shifted her weight to make some room for the little girl.

  “Yes, Sweetie, I do.” She tickled Jillian as she replied, then added, “Your father called to say he has to work late again tonight.”

  Jillian's face fell. “Again,” she wailed.

  Ignoring the child's reaction, Karissa said, “What are you going to make your grandmother and me
for dinner?”

  Jillian's enthusiasm returned as quickly as it had disappeared. She jumped up from the sofa yelling, “Tacos.”

  “Quietly, child. We're right here beside you. No need to shout.” Karissa put her hands over her ears, a mock look of pain on her face. “Why don't you show your grandmother how to make them? Can you do that?”

  “Yes.” Jillian's excitement was apparent, but she kept her voice down. “Want to, Gramma?”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  Edna, impressed with Karissa's easy way with Jillian, followed her granddaughter to the kitchen, leaving Karissa to her magazines. She was slowly developing a more complete picture of Grant's second wife, and she liked what she saw.

  For the next half hour she and Jillian browned and drained hamburger meat and chopped tomatoes and lettuce. Jillian insisted on grating the cheese, which was fine with Edna. When it came time to make guacamole, Jillian had to run into the living room several times to confer with her stepmother, but eventually all ingredients were on the table along with place settings and Karissa waddled into the dining room to eat. The plates with their red, green and yellow ingredients looked festive.

  Both Jillian and Karissa laughed watching Edna follow their instructions for making a taco and then trying to eat it without dumping the filling out the opposite end. She had finally gotten the hang of it and taken her first successful bite, savoring the spicy taste, so different from what she was used to, when the cell phone in her pocket went off. Excusing herself, she left the table and went into the next room to answer the call. Typically, she would have left it unanswered and picked up her message after dinner, but she had missed Albert's calls too often recently. As it turned out, it wasn't her husband but Ernie who was calling.

  “I'm at Safeway,” he said, without preamble.

  “And I'm in the middle of dinner. Can I call you back?” Edna kept her tone low, not wanting Karissa to hear.

  “When can you get here?”

  Edna looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was a few minutes past six. “I'll meet you there at eight.” She pressed the disconnect button after hearing Ernie grumble an impatient, “Okay.”

  She pocketed her phone and, with a murmur of apology to Karissa and Jillian as she returned to the table, looked down at her partly-eaten taco. Bravely, she picked up the brittle tortilla shell and wedged the hamburger and toppings back into place with her fork before taking another bite. “Mmm,” she rolled her eyes at her granddaughter, making the child giggle with delight.

  Later that evening, after settling Jillian into bed and telling Karissa that she wanted to pick up a few things at the store, she backed the Celica out of the garage and headed for the Safeway shopping center. She found Ernie at the same small table near the deli counter.

  “What did you find out?” he asked, helping her off with her coat and presenting her with a lukewarm cup of coffee.

  Pushing aside the Styrofoam cup, she leaned forward, bursting with her good news. “Anita will be in town next Friday, a week from tomorrow.”

  Ernie's reaction wasn't what she expected. Throwing back his head with a look of anguish, he slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “That might be too late. The doctors say it'll be a miracle if Mrs. Maitland lasts through the weekend.”

  Edna felt both surprise and dismay. “How do you know that?”

  “My client. He says she probably won't even last that long. We've got to find her niece.” Ernie looked away momentarily before turning to ask, “Did you find anyone at all who has talked to Anita since her parents' funeral?”

  “No one.”

  “Anyone who might know how to reach her or where she might have gone?”

  Again, Edna shook her head. She thought back to her conversation with Marcie. “Her supervisor thinks she's working somewhere in her territory. Grant's pretty sure she's gone off to be alone for a while. None of her friends or coworkers has seen or heard from her in the last five weeks, and although she's not been out of touch for this long a time before, nobody seems to be at all worried except for my son. I'm beginning to believe you're right. I think something has happened to her.”

  “Isn't there anything you learned that might help track her down?” As he spoke, Ernie took the small notebook and pen out of his inside jacket pocket. “Did her supervisor mention a client's name? What about a favorite place? Has Grant said anything about where Anita goes when she wants to be alone?”

  “No.” Edna shook her head. Disappointed at his reaction to what she'd thought would be good news, she forced her mind back over everything she had heard or seen that day. For a moment she thought of telling him about the black car but then decided not to. She would wait to hear from Sudie if it belonged to the boy next door. Feeling as though she had failed Ernie, she said, “What did you discover today?”

  The detective turned a few pages in his notebook and studied his scribbles. “I talked to a guy I know works ski patrol during the winter, up where your daughter-in-law had her accident. He wasn't on the slope when it happened, but he knows someone who was. He said he'd talk to the kid and get back to me.” Ernie turned to the next page and read more of the hen-scratches before returning the notebook to his pocket. Apparently, there was nothing else he had to report.

  The two sat in silence for a while, each with his or her own thoughts. She took a sip from the Styrofoam cup, but the liquid had turned cold and bitter. “Where do we go from here?” she asked, certain they had reached a dead end.

  He shrugged, turning his face so he looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I'd still like to talk to your son.”

  She didn't speak for several heartbeats. She knew she couldn't ask Grant to speak to Ernie. Instead, she changed the subject. “Will you show me where Anita lives? I think I can get away for a few hours tomorrow, and I'd like to see her place.” She didn't know why, but at that moment she felt the need to see not only Anita's home, but also her parents' house. It was something physical she could do, something other than sitting around doing nothing and getting nowhere.

  Before he could answer, the cell phone in her tote began to jingle. Two women came into the deli area, chatting noisily, at the same time Edna spoke into the phone.

  “Sounds like you're out on the town again.” Albert's voice was faint.

  Holding a finger to one ear, she pressed the mobile harder into the other. “I can barely hear. Is that you, Albert?”

  “Were you expecting someone else?”

  She heard him more clearly this time and was annoyed at the question. “It might have been Karissa or Grant calling.”

  “Where are you? Aren't you with them?”

  “No. I'm at the grocery store.” Probably because she was depressed at getting nowhere in the search for Anita, Edna felt herself growing irritated at Albert's interrogation. If he was so concerned about where she was or who she was with, why hadn't he stayed in Colorado? “Let me call you back when I've finished shopping.” She disconnected the call without waiting for his reply.

  Ten

  Grant was sitting at the kitchen counter when Edna walked in from the garage.

  “Where have you been?” He sounded like his father.

  Still irritated at Albert's implied suspicions, she did not trust herself to answer cheerfully. Instead, she held up a grocery bag containing the quart of milk and several apples she had bought before leaving the store. Before he spoke again, she turned her back to put her purchases into the refrigerator and get control of her temper.

  “I got home right after you left.” He was looking at the kitchen wall clock when she spun back to face him. “You've been gone over an hour.”

  “I wanted some time to myself,” she replied noncommittally. Her annoyance was growing over his questioning her, but at the same time guilt gnawed her conscience over having done something he'd specifically asked her not to do.

  He must have seen a spark in her eyes because he said hastily, “I thought you'd be here taking care of Karis
sa and Jillian when I got home.” He paused, frowning for a second. “Jillian said you promised her a kitten. What's that all about?”

  Edna began to unbutton her overcoat, still not fully in control of her temper. By the time she had removed the garment, she'd reassessed the situation. It wasn't typical of her son to lash out at her, particularly with absurd accusations. When she spoke, her tone was soft and calmer than she felt. “Karissa knew where I was and knows how to reach me if she needs to, and you know I wouldn't promise Jillian any such thing without your approval first. What's really bothering you, Grant?”

  He backed down. She seemed to have knocked the wind out of his sails. “I'm sorry, Ma, but I started to worry about you when you were gone so long.”

  “I've been out of the house barely an hour. I don't think that's what's troubling you.”

  His gaze dropped to the newspaper spread before him on the counter, but she doubted he was reading. Maybe if she opened up to him, she could shake loose whatever was on his mind. She draped her coat over an arm and clutched it to her middle before beginning to speak. “Actually, I ran into Ernie, the detective, at the store.” She didn't explain that it had been a prearranged appointment. Let him assume what he would. When he raised his head, she saw anger begin to spread across his face. She hurried on before he could explode. “Why won't you talk to him? He's not going away, you know. Won't it be best if you simply tell him what you know?”

  Grant stood and came around the counter. “I guess we'd better talk, Mother.” Taking her coat and with a gentle hand on her elbow, he steered her toward the living room. Draping the coat on a nearby chair, he motioned her to the sofa before taking the corner opposite her and resting an arm across the back as he turned to look at her.