Cold Case (13 page)

She put off the mail to go on the Internet instead to look up Robert McCrutchen's voting record as a senator, the bills he had sponsored or supported, those he opposed. She learned specifics, but nothing substantial to add to what she already knew about him. Rock-hard conservative, moderating his language about a few social issues, pleasant and affable most of the time, accommodating…

“Politician,” she muttered under her breath, and looked up David again. Three published books, each one modestly successful, good critical notices and reviews and some harsh criticism. His appointment as an Oxford lecturer apparently was a real plum, more than she had realized before.

Maria buzzed her to say Amy McCrutchen was on the line.

She took the call. “I really need to see you,” Amy said. “Is it all right if I come over? I just left the clinic.”

“Sure. Is it about David? Is he okay?”

“Yes, much better. It will take me ten minutes. I'll come right over.”

She wore a sleeveless, pale blue cotton dress that seemed to touch her at the shoulders and nowhere else, but there was no garment that helped with the temperature at one hundred degrees.

“Sit down and cool off,” Barbara said. “I'm having iced coffee. Do you want that, a Coke, ice water?”

Amy shook her head. “I'm all right. Today, someone followed me to the clinic.”

“Tell me about it,” Barbara said. She indicated the chairs by the round table, then went to the little bar for ice cubes and water. She put the filled glass in front of Amy, who was sitting on the edge of her chair.

“I had to go to the post office, and then I went to the clinic. I saw the car on my street first, then again when I drove around looking for a parking space by the post office. You know, there's nowhere handy there. I parked a block away, and the same car drove right by. I saw it again when I turned in at the clinic. It kept going. But he knows where I went.”

She said it in a rush, and then picked up the water and drank deeply, but continued to sit upright, almost rigidly on the edge of her chair.

Barbara waited until she put the glass down. “Take it more slowly,” she said. “Are you sure it was the same car? A lot of them look alike, you know.”

“We don't have much traffic on our street,” Amy said. “That's what made me notice. It was parked up the street and it started when I left the driveway. Black, two door. I don't know what make it was, maybe a Honda. I drove on Franklin, then Sixth to go to the post office and it did, too. I know it was the same car. That time of day traffic's light. I had to drive past the post office to find parking, down toward the train station. And it kept going, but that's all that's down there, just the train station. There was more traffic on the bridge, but after I turned off and got on Country Club Road, I saw it again. We were the only two cars in sight going in that direction. I know it was the same.”

Barbara nodded. “Could you see the driver?”

Amy shook her head. “A man, that's all I could tell. When I was putting coins in the parking meter by the post office, I didn't notice the car until he was already past me. Just a man.”

“What about over the weekend? Did anyone follow you then?”

“I didn't leave the house Saturday or Sunday,” she said. “I spent the weekend working. Besides, David's parents visited him over the weekend, and I didn't want to intrude.”

“Hold it a minute,” Barbara said. “I'll call Darren and alert him.”

He was with a patient, Molly said on the phone. Barbara asked her to relay her message for Darren to call as soon as he had a minute. She returned to her chair. “Are you sure you don't want iced coffee or something else to drink?”

“Maybe iced coffee,” Amy said. She finally shifted her position on the chair and looked less likely to bolt and run.

Barbara prepared the coffee, then said, “You said David's much better. That's good to hear.”

“I hadn't seen him for three days and the change is really marked. He's walking a lot more, he said. But early, before it gets so hot. He's getting his strength back and he's pushing himself.”

“I'm sure Darren won't let him overdo it,” Barbara said. Her phone rang and she crossed over to her desk to take the call. It was Darren. She told him what Amy had said, then added, “Absolutely no visitors except family, Amy, his doctor or one of my crew. And please make certain that back gate is kept locked. Okay?”

“You know it,” he said. “Look, there are four husky interns on duty these days, and a receptionist with a brain and a good voice. He'll be all right. See you later. Love you.”

Four interns? Usually he trained two at a time. That probably helped account for the long hours he was putting in. The thought raced through her mind as she hung up and returned to her chair.

“They'll keep an eye out,” she said. “Did you mention this to David?”

“No. I didn't want to alarm him while he's so helpless. He really is, you know. Helpless, I mean. He knew something was wrong, and I said it was the heat.”

Barbara nodded. “It was good thinking not to tell him, and also good to give me the word.” She paused, then said, “Can you stay a few minutes? I'd like very much to ask a few questions.”

Amy nodded. “Sure.”

“Do you have any memory of the graduation party your parents gave for Robert and his class?”

“Some,” Amy said. “Remember, I was just fourteen, and not allowed in the family room where they were dancing. Why?”

“I'm trying to get a handle on that graduating group, and they keep slipping away. Conflicting memories. Not unusual, of course, but hard to sort out. Can you think back to the party and talk about it, what you remember? If there were tensions, quarrels, anything more than fun and games. Whatever comes to mind.”

“I remember some things pretty well,” Amy said after a moment. “Robert and Chloe announced their engagement, for one thing. And there were champagne toasts. We, my friend Greta, and I, didn't get any.” She grinned. “That's the sort of thing we remember, isn't it?”

Smiling, Barbara agreed.

“There was a lot of food,” Amy said. “We ate a lot, and so did most of the others. I remember that Jill ate a lot, and she was so thin. It didn't seem fair that she could eat like that and stay thin.”

“You knew her?” Barbara asked.

“No, not really. I had just turned fourteen, and they were all twenty-one, twenty-two, even a little older. It's hard to bridge that kind of gap. I doubt any of them paid attention to me at any time, and I certainly had not paid attention to them the times they'd been to the house for the seminars. But she was very pretty and, as I said, thin. That made me remember her, I guess. Then, her murder seemed to fix her in my mind. Also, she was a really good dancer.” She shook her head. “I didn't know then that she had been ill, and she was poor. Maybe that was the first time in ages that she'd had more food than she could eat. At fourteen, we don't think of such things, I guess. I know I was really callous about poor Mrs. Elders.” She glanced quickly at Barbara, then away. “I just thought how gross she was,” she said in a low voice. “Peeling skin, fat, smelled bad, whiny. Severe ichthyosis, but I just saw the effects and hated them. Their house was like a refrigerator, and Dr. Elders would be outside grading papers or reading because he would freeze inside, and she couldn't stand to be out.” She paused again, then said, “I think kids that age are extremely judgmental. I know I was, and most of the girls I knew were. We judged without knowing anything.”

“Did you like Dr. Elders?”

Amy shrugged. “I didn't like or dislike him for years. He just was there, Robert's teacher, my parents' friend, and he was nothing to me, just another boring adult. Once in a while, he'd notice me and put on that kind of condescending smile some adults inflict on the young because they don't have anything to say to them. After the party that night, I decided I definitely did not like him.”

“What happened that night?” Barbara asked.

Amy told her about trying to sneak beer. “Neither of us had ever had any, and we just wanted to try it. But he acted as if I had committed high treason. He got all sad and soulful, as if he feared hellfire and damnation awaited us. You know, more in pity and deep sorrow than anger. He'd been dancing a lot, and he and Robert were hot and sweaty, on their way to get some beer, but for us to do the same was cause for mourning.”

Barbara laughed. “Do as I say, not as I do. Kids find that really offensive, don't they?”

“You bet they do! I decided on the spot that he was a sanctimonious hypocrite. Anyway, Mother came out and told us to get a sandwich or something and take it to my room, and that was that.”

But, she added to herself, that was when she had fallen in love for the first time. And, she was afraid, for the only time.

“What time was that? Do you recall?” Barbara asked.

“After eleven. A quarter after, something like that. Greta and I took stuff to eat to my room and talked and got ready for bed.” Her focus shifted away, and she sipped her coffee.

“Was the party still in full swing when you went up?” Barbara felt that there was a new tension in Amy, perhaps even an evasiveness that had been absent earlier.

“Some people had left by then, and hardly anyone was still dancing. For a little while I could hear the music, but then the loud music stopped, and someone was playing the piano and one of the guys played an acoustic guitar.”

“Did you hear Robert go to his room?” Barbara watched Amy as she asked, curious whether she would rise to the defense of her brother.

“No,” Amy said, not at all easing the new sense of tension in the air. She appeared unaware of it. Before, it had been apparent that her responses were spontaneous, not guarded, but now she was being careful, measuring each word. “We had music on in my room, and we were talking. I didn't hear him at all that night.”

“Amy,” Barbara said slowly, “I've heard from others, including David, by the way, that he and Robert had some kind of confrontation over Jill. Apparently it was after you and your friend went upstairs. Did you see anything that might have led to words or worse between them?”

Amy shook her head and drank more coffee, emptying her glass. “Robert might have watched them dancing earlier,” she said after a moment. “David told me that Jill taught him how to dance, and they practiced together when they were in high school. They danced well together. Several people noticed. Greta and I did.” Again she was avoiding Barbara's gaze, watching a dwindling ice cube as she tilted her glass one way then the other.

Frustrated, Barbara wanted to shake her. Not yet, she thought. It could come to that, but not yet. “Okay,” she said. “I'll have to leave it for now. Are you planning on staying here in Eugene very long?”

“I don't know how long,” Amy said. “Chloe moved out, and I can work from the house as well as anywhere else, as long as I go up on Fridays. I'll hang around and keep Mother company for now. She went to Portland with me on Friday, in order to go to a nursery that specializes in tropical plants. She wants to restore the family room to a sort of conservatory, the way it used to be. They'll deliver a lot of stuff on Thursday and she'll need help.” She was back to speaking in the fast flow of easy words, visibly more relaxed. Lucy had decided to have the master bedroom and bath redecorated before she moved downstairs, Amy continued.

As she talked on, Barbara knew that it was time for the discussion to come to an end. Amy would evade for now anything she had already decided not to discuss. After another minute or two, Barbara stood. “I've kept you long enough,” she said. “Thanks for answering my questions.”

As soon as Amy was gone, Barbara called Bailey. “Council of war first thing in the morning,” she said. “Can do?”

“Righto. I'll have most of that rundown by then. Anything else?”

“No doubt, I'll have more in the morning. See you then.”

She called Frank's cell phone, not certain if he was at the office or at home. He answered after many rings. She hoped it was not because he had been working in the garden. He had no business doing anything in the heat of the afternoon. He said he was at the office, surrounded by papers. He sounded annoyed.

Quickly she summarized Amy's visit. “Bailey's coming in the morning. You want to sit in?”

“I'll be there,” he said.

“What's wrong?” she asked then. “You sound pretty pissed off.”

“That's too mild. I have every right to sound as mad as hell. I have a damn fool copy editor who wants to be my collaborator! Damn fool!”

“You're way out of my field,” she said. “Stay out of the sun, and I'll see you in the morning.”

Leaning back in her chair, she thought a long time about Amy. She obviously had seen or heard something she had no intention of talking about. When had she had time to fall in love with David? As a kid? Did that count? She was thirty-six, still single. No lover in her life? No affairs? That was hard to believe. Extremely good-looking, intelligent, well educated, she would have had guys after her for years. She had just turned fourteen when David went off to grad school, and he had been out of her life for the next twenty-two years. Most likely she had thought him as out of her life forever.