Evidence of Guilt (35 page)

"You're full of good news," Sam humphed.

"Actually, I may have some." I told him about my meeting the previous night with Jerry, Lisa's ex-husband. "I'm going to see if I can get another look at her drawings. Jerry said she didn't keep a diary the way Dr. Markley asked, but used her art for the same purpose."

"What's a drawing going to tell you?"

"I don't know; maybe nothing. But I'd like to see for myself."

When I hung up I fished out another quarter and dialed Ed Cole's office, hoping to get Lisa's key. Unfortunately, he wasn't in.

Knowing that people sometimes hid spares outside, I drove to Lisa's house anyway. I was a little uneasy about the ethics of entering without Cole's consent, but I tried to push my qualms aside. The police had finished with the house, Lisa's parents had taken what they wanted and I was only going to borrow the sketchbooks, not take them permanently. In any case, I was reasonably sure Cole would have given me the go ahead and I'd tell him what I'd done as soon as I could reach him.

I parked at the end of the long drive and walked around to the back of the house, where I looked under the doormat and nearby flowerpots and loose rocks. I climbed under the porch to inspect the posts and then moved farther afield to the area near Amy's tire swing. Nothing.

I was growing hot and sticky and cranky. I decided to give up, and was headed around front when I saw a large white Cadillac pull into the driveway. The car looked familiar, but it wasn't until Sheri Pearl opened the driver's side door and stepped out that I realized why.

As I stepped forward, she put a hand over her heart and let out a little shriek.

"Good heavens, Kali, you scared me to death. What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same thing."

"I came to look at the house." Sheri closed the car door and locked it. The alarm gave a little chirp. "I'm working hard on getting this listing. The place is going to go for a bundle, and I want to be in on it, one way or another. If I'm both listing and selling agent, so much the better."

"Have you talked to Cole?"

She tossed her head. "Of course I've talked to Cole. How do you think I got the key?"

'You have the key?" I tried to stifle my excitement.

She held it aloft with one finger. The key dangled from a loop of twine. "You think I'd drive out here on a weekend just to walk the property and size up the exterior?"

"Can I tag along for a bit? Cole let me in earlier, so I don't think he'd mind."

"You interested in buying it?"

I shook my head. "I want to take a look at Lisa's sketchbooks."

"Whatever for?"

"I'm probably chasing rabbits, but I thought her drawings might tell me something about her murder."

Sheri dropped her car keys into her bag. "I suppose it's all right. Truth is, I'm not any too happy going in there alone. It seems kind of spooky, if you know what I mean."

While Sheri toured the main floor of the house with clipboard and tape measure, I headed for the upstairs bedrooms. In the back of my mind I remembered seeing some spiral-bound sketchbooks in Lisa's bedroom. I found them, plus a pad of drawing paper, in a desk drawer. I picked up the sketchbook from Amy's room as well, then headed back downstairs to find Sheri.

"I'm taking these books," I told her, holding them out for inspection. "You want to make an inventory or something?"

Sheri wasn't interested. "Just be sure to tell Cole."

I nodded and stuck the sketchbooks in my canvas tote.

"Will you hold the end of this tape for me?" Sheri asked. "I'm trying to get a rough estimate of square footage."

I held the end of the tape measure with my foot while she walked down the hallway, trailing the tape after her.

'The house isn't much," she said, eyeing the narrow hallway with disdain. "I mean, it's nice enough, but compared to the value of the property, the house is likely to be a secondary consideration. Whoever buys the place will certainly want to remodel and add on, maybe even tear it down and start over. That would be the wisest move."

She reeled in the tape and we went through the exercise again across the back of the house.

"Anne Drummond loved this place," I said. "She left it to Lisa precisely because she didn't want it sold or torn down."

"Yeah, but they're both gone now."

"It seems sad somehow."

"It's not my decision, Kali. I'm simply doing my job." Sheri jotted something on her clipboard. "I guess I've seen enough for now. I want to take a look at the barn. Will you come with me?"

As we headed out back, Sheri continued to scrutinize the property in terms of sales potential. At the barn door she hesitated.

"It's okay," I said. "It's just an empty barn."

"It seems morbid."

"You're the one who wanted to see it."

"I'm going to suggest they tear the barn down before

listing the property. No buyer's going to have use for the thing anyway. And it will just remind people of the murders."

I led the way into the dim interior. Since my last visit! there'd been a proliferation of cigarette butts and gun' wrappers. A small pyramid of empty beer cans had appeared under the loft. The boys had apparently returned I wondered if Bongo was among them, or if finding the bodies had scared him off forever.

Sheri sneezed. "It's dusty in here. And smelly." She looked around. 'The structure is rickety; useless, really. 1 can't imagine why Anne Drummond didn't tear the thine down herself, years ago."

"I think she used it for storage."

Sheri's eyes surveyed the interior. She nodded in the direction of the storage shelves at one end of the ban "Looks like she tried to make something useful of the place at one time. Seems a waste, though, to put shelving that sturdy out here where you couldn't store anything that might be harmed by the elements. It's got to be damp in the winter and infested with bugs the rest of the year.

We turned and started for the door, then stopped shon when we heard a scratching sound from behind the barn. Sheri turned white.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"Probably an animal. A squirrel or rat--"

She grabbed my arm and pulled herself up on her toes "Rat?"

There was another thump and then a cough. Sheri due her nails into my flesh. "Animals don't cough."

I unwound her fingers from my arm and darted for the door. I got there just in time to see a hunched figure scurrying for the woods.

"It was only Granger," I told her.

"Who?"

I explained.

"I hope to goodness he stays away once the property is listed." She dusted off her skirt. "That's another reason to tear the barn down. Rats and bums don't do a lot for sales potential."

Probably not. But Sheri's single-minded focus on marketing and financial gain left a sour taste in my mouth. It also reminded me, however, that I'd yet to connect with Robert "Bud" Simmons. As we headed back to the front of the house, I asked Sheri if she knew him.

"Doesn't ring a bell," she said. "Why?"

"He has a client who's interested in the property."

"There are going to be a number of people interested. That's why I'm doing everything I can to be part of it."

Sheri unlocked her car. "I've got to run some stuff over to Mother and then get on to an appointment. I'm dreading it because I know she'll expect me to stay and visit. When I tell her I can't she'll fall into a funk. Assuming it's one of the days she even remembers who I am."

I nodded. It was hard to know what to expect with Irma Pearl. That's what made it so hard. Some days her mind was clear and lucid; others, she lived in a world of her own making.

Sheri tossed her clipboard into the backseat. "I hate to disappoint her, but I simply don't have time to sit there making small talk. It's taking a lot of my energy just getting her house ready to put on the market. I had to sort through everything before I brought in the movers and--"

"Why don't you let me take her whatever it is she needs.
^w

Sheri lifted her head. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all." On some level I owed Sheri a favor for letting me into Lisa's house. But I found that visits with Irma Pearl eased my conscience as well. Although it was the judge, and not me, who'd ultimately decided she needed a conservator, I couldn't help feeling rotten about my role in bringing it about.

I stuck the bundle Sheri had given me into my canvas tote, along with Lisa's sketches, and headed for the Twin Pines Rest Home.

Irma Pearl was having one of her better days; she was not only lucid but cheerful. Her hair was clean and combed, and she was dressed in a cotton shirtwaist rather than a robe. A smile of recognition crossed her face the moment she saw me.

"Kali. What a pleasant surprise."

"I brought you a package from Sheri. She wanted to come herself, but she had an unexpected business appointment."

'That poor girl works herself too hard," Mrs. Pearl said. "Always has. I don't think she knows the meaning of rest. And now, of course, she's got me to worry about as well. I hate being a burden on her."

"I'm sure Sheri doesn't see it that way." I figure white lies don't count.

Her face clouded. "It's no fun growing old, I'll tell you that."

We were sitting at one end of a large lounge--a pleas-

ant, airy space that opened onto a patio and a garden. The walls were painted a soft yellow and adorned with framed landscapes. The floor was carpeted, the furniture comfortable and homey. Although the ambience was hardly nursing-home institutional, it reminded me a little of my college dormitory.

"And don't tell me growing old is better than the alternative," Irma Pearl added, "because somedays I'm not so sure that's true." Her expression was troubled, as though she'd bitten into a lemon when expecting chocolate. "I never thought I'd end up in an old-folks home."

I nodded in sympathy. "This is one of the nicer places, though."

"I suppose so, for what it is. It's just that it isn't home." Leaning closer, she gestured to the other end of the room, where a small group was gathered in front of the television. "The worst part," she whispered, "is that you have to put up with other people and their annoying habits."

She straightened, played with the fabric of her skirt for a moment, then sighed. "I forget things, though. Sheri's right; I can't care for myself anymore. And I sometimes make the stupidest decisions. It's like I've got some other person's brain inside my head some days. A very stupid person."

I pulled my totebag into my lap and retrieved the package. "Sheri sent this," I told her. "She said you were expecting it."

Tearing at the wrapped package as gleefully as a child, Irma let out a squeal of delight. "She got me three of them."

Three of what?"

"Books on tape. My eyes are so bad, I had to give up reading. Then one of the women here introduced me to

audio books. They make a tape of someone reading the book aloud, and then you listen to it. My friend likes to knit while she listens, but me, I just like to close my eyes and concentrate on the story. It's a wonderful invention."

I made a mental note to bring her a couple of tapes next time I came for a visit. "I brought you something too," I said, reaching into my tote for the box I'd picked up at The Sugar Plum on my way over.

Her eyes sparkled. She opened the box and offered me a cookie. "Why don't I get us some tea too?" she suggested. There's a service set out in the dining room. We can have our own little party."

That's a lovely idea. But I'll get the tea. You sit right here."

"I take mine with sugar," she said. Two spoonsful."

I found the room on the other side of the hallway. Tea, coffee and juice were set out on the long buffet near the door. I had to give Sheri credit for choosing a decent place. I was sure the homelike amenities did not come cheaply.

When I returned, balancing the cups one in each hand, Irma was leafing through one of Lisa's sketchbooks. "You're quite an artist," she said with admiration.

I set the cups down on the coffee table in front of us. Those aren't mine. They belong to a friend."