Goodbye Sister Disco (11 page)

“No, it's not, but … you're just going to have to trust us.” Hastings was using the word
us
now not because he was suddenly feeling a kinship with the feds. Far from it. But he sensed that this woman was playing some sort of game now that he didn't like one goddamn bit. She wanted him as an ally, for some reason. Perhaps against the feds, perhaps against her husband. She was making him ill.

He said, “Are agents Kubiak and Gabler here?”

“No,” she said, “they left a while ago. But there are agents outside and in.”

“Okay,” Hastings said. He stood. “Well, I should get going. Someone will contact me if there's any activity.”

She stood up and moved out the door without a word. Hastings followed her out and found himself looking briefly at her backside. She had a nice form, he thought, but not the sort you want to have behind you on a cliff.

In the hall, he said, “Excuse me, would you mind showing me the grounds out back?”

She turned to look at him.

“No, I don't mind. Why?”

He said, “I'm not sure, actually. I wanted to get a feel for this place.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, it may be that the kidnappers may have seen this house. Or are familiar with your stepdaughter's schedule.”

“Such as it is?”

“Such as it is.”

She shrugged. “If you like. Let me get my coat.”

She left him in the hall for a moment and soon came back with a gray, short mackintosh tied at the waist. It flattered her.

It was quiet outside. The pool was tranquil. There was a small pond nearby, next to a Japanese garden. They walked around the pool as Hastings took in the sights.

Hastings was not an unperceptive man. He was aware that the woman was attractive and vain and that she probably believed he was making some sort of play for her by asking this. It didn't matter to him though. He was not the sort to correct such misperceptions unless he thought it was necessary. The woman was quiet and he was quiet and they both seemed comfortable with the silence.

Lexie Penmark said, “Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Please, don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel old.”

“All right.”

“Have you been a policeman long?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“Reasonably enough.”

“Were you ever interested in doing something else?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. Something in the private sector, perhaps.”

Hastings shrugged. “Private sector” covered a lot of ground.

“You know,” Lexie said, “my husband, he has a security office.”

Hastings looked at her briefly.

And Lexie said, “I mean, he has an entire department.”

“Hmmm.”

“Maybe, when this is finished, I could talk to him about it.”

“About what?”

“About giving you a job. Maybe even putting you in charge of security.”

Hastings smiled. “I appreciate that, but, uh, I don't think so.”

“Why not? It would pay very well. I don't mean to be forward, but, it would be a considerable increase in pay, I imagine.”

“I imagine it would,” Hastings said. He stopped and pointed at one of the bungalows. “You said that Gene's other daughter lives in one of those?”

“Yes. Edie.”

“Is she there now?”

“I'm not sure, actually. Would you like to speak with her?”

“Yes. May we go check?”

“Okay,” Lexie said.

EIGHTEEN

Lexie rang the doorbell. They could hear noise inside. Lexie rang it again and said, “Edie, it's Lexie. We need to talk to you.”

There seemed to be a hesitation on the other side. And then the door was opened by a young blonde in her twenties. She wore jeans and a blue zip-up sweatshirt with an orange T-shirt underneath. She did not seem the type to smile, and there was a look of distrustfulness about her eyes. She looked tired and irritable.

She said, “What do you want?”

Lexie said, “Edie, this is Lieutenant Hastings with the St. Louis Police Department. He'd like to talk to you.”

Hastings nodded at Edie Penmark. She looked at him and then over at Lexie and seemed to smile. A mirthless smile, suggesting to them that she suspected they were some sort of couple. Or planning to be. Hastings could see that she didn't think much of her stepmother.

Edie Penmark said, “Why?

Hastings said, “I wanted to talk to you about your sister.”

“My sister's been abducted. Haven't you heard?”

Hastings looked at her and wondered how much she'd had to drink. He could smell wine.

“I know,” Hastings said. “But I just wanted to ask you a few things. It won't take long.”

Edie Penmark pushed the door open with something of a flourish. “Suit yourself,” she said.

They started to follow her in and Hastings stopped and placed a hand on Lexie's arm. He said, “Would you mind if I spoke to her alone?”

He detected a flicker of disappointment on Lexie Penmark's face. She said, “Oh. Well, if you—”

Hastings said, “Please.”

“Okay,” Lexie said. And walked back out the door.

Hastings closed the door behind her. Then he was alone in the bungalow with Edie Penmark.

The place was dirty. There was a large television built into the wall—as there was in the main house—but the couch and the coffee table in front of the television seemed out of place. As if Edie had added those things herself. The coffee table was covered with newspapers and magazines and other papers. There was an off-white ashtray on the coffee table half filled with cigarette butts.

Edie Penmark had resumed her seat on the couch and picked up the glass of wine she had left on the table. Her attention was supposed to be focused on the television.
Inside Edition
. Edie leaned forward to set the wineglass on the table, then leaned back with her lit cigarette.

Without looking at Hastings she said, “Cute, isn't she?”

“Who?” Hastings said.

“My stepmother. Fake tits, lifted chin, lifted ass. Holds together nicely, don't you think?”

Hastings shrugged. “Sure,” he said.

The girl turned to acknowledge him. She said, “So what are you after?”

Hastings walked over to the coffee table and picked up the remote control and clicked the television off.

“Not much,” he said. He sat in the chair at the end of the coffee table. She gave him her attention.

Hastings said, “Let's cut this out. Okay?”

She regarded him briefly. Her shoulders sagged and some of her defiance was gone. She said, “I already talked to one of you guys.”

Hastings said, “Which one?”

“The one with the blond hair and glasses. Looks like James Spader?”

“Who's that?”

“Don't you watch television?”

“Not much,” Hastings said. “Was it Agent Kubiak?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about that interview.”

“He asked me where I was last night, I said I was here. What I knew about Cordy's friends, I said not much. Had I seen anyone suspicious around here or around her, no I hadn't. Could I think of anything else, I doubt it.” She said, “Okay?”

Hastings said, “That was it?”

“That was it.”

“Well, that doesn't sound too comprehensive.”

“It was to me.”

“Edith. Let me ask you something: how long had Cordy been seeing Tom Myers?”

“Her boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“I don't know. A few months, maybe.”

“Did she talk to you about him?”

“A little.”

“Was she in love with him?”

Edie Penmark was looking at Hastings. She said, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Work with me, Edie. I'm trying to help you.”

“It's not my money they want.”

“It's your sister they have.”

“I know that,” she said, her voice cracking at the end.

“I know you do,” Hastings said. “Listen, I usually have reasons for my questions. All right?”

He was looking at her steadily now, acting on instinct perhaps. Interrogation was as much an art as it was anything else. Hastings had not yet figured out Edith Penmark. But he was hoping that there was more humanity in her than in her father or stepmother. He was asking this girl to trust him.

Finally, she said, “All right.” She shrugged again. “We didn't talk that much. We're a little different, in case you haven't noticed. Well, how would you notice? You've never met her.”

“No, I haven't.”

She pulled on her cigarette, exhaled. “No,” she said, “I don't think she loved him. He wanted to marry her, apparently. For her money. But she's not stupid. She's not lonely either. At least, I don't think she was.” Edie put her head against the cushion of the couch. “Are you wondering if Tom Myers was in on her kidnapping?”

“I've thought about it,” Hastings said. “I kind of doubt it, though.”

“He was a little slick for my tastes. But, no, I'd doubt that too. Anyway, if you're wondering if she was so in love with him as to trust him with her life or some shit like that, no. Not her. She's not an idealist.”

“Cordy's not?”

“No.”

“How about you?”

She snorted. “Oh, God,” she said. “Not hardly.”

Hastings believed that. He said, “You're divorced now?”

“Yep.”

“What happened there?”

She gave him a mild scowl. “What happened? It was a fucking disaster. It lasted, like, six months.”

“Why was it a disaster?”

“Well, let's see. First, he was going to start a graphic design business. That took about forty thousand dollars of my money, and I don't think he ever left the house. There were always all these … people over. All these fucking people. I didn't know half of them.”

“What were they there for?”

“Drugs. Bullshit. That's what he spent the money on: drugs and bullshit.” She said, “My therapist said he was self-destructive. I was like,
No shit.
I don't even think he liked me.”

“Why did you marry him?”

Edie Penmark sighed. “I had to do something. I mean, I didn't have a career and I wasn't going to school. I had to have something.…”

“Something to live for?”

She gave Hastings a glare. “Don't judge. I know how people like you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to pull people down so you feel better about yourselves.”

Hastings nodded. He said, “What was this fellow's name?”

“Hap Melendy. He's in San Diego now.”

“Doing what?”

“Shit, I don't know. Playing with himself, probably.” She smiled bitterly. “Ain't it grand?”

“What?”

“The poor little rich girl. White trash living in her daddy's mansion. You could book me on Jerry Springer.”

“I wasn't thinking that.”

“Weren't you? I'll bet you feel a great satisfaction in it.”

Hastings said, “Not hardly.”

She was peering at him now and Hastings was thinking she was lost. Too much substance abuse, too many drugs, too much booze. Too much. A little girl not many years ago and now lost. He was not altogether surprised by what happened next.

Edie Penmark said, “Do you like me?”

“Sure.” Hastings was calm.

Edie Penmark was still looking at him. She said, “Do you want to fuck me?”

“No, ma'am.”

“No? Why not?” She was smiling at him now. A cold smile, which was not at all arousing.

Hastings said, “I have a girlfriend.”

“So what? What does she do for you?”

“Well, that's private.”

“Yeah? I'll bet she's pretty conventional in the sack. But you want something more, huh?”

Hastings was repelled by this. It was an invasion that was meant to arouse and interest him. It didn't. But he didn't want the girl to know how he was feeling. Not yet. He said, “Well, we do what we can.”

Edie Penmark said, “I bet I know what you'd like.”

Hastings made a gesture. “Well, who's to say?” He stood up. He put a card on the table. “If you think of anything, I want you to call me.”

“Maybe I'll call you even if I don't.”

Hastings was walking out the door when she said that.

*   *   *

The guard opened the gate and Hastings drove his Jag out onto the winding road. He looked at his watch. Then he called a number on his cell phone. She answered on the third ring.

Carol McGuire said, “George?”

“Hey,” Hastings said. “What's going on?”

“Not much. Had a long day at work. How about you?”

Hastings said, “I kind of need a bath.”

Carol laughed. “What happened?”

“Oh,” he said, “it's a long story.”

Carol said, “I understand you're working on the Penmark abduction?”

“Yeah. Lovely people, the Penmarks.”

“Hmmm. You sound tired.”

“I am,” he said. “How was your day?”

“I pled out that assault case. So I won't have a trial next week.”

“That's good. Was that the one with Sanderson?”

“Yes,” she said, referring to a prosecutor they both knew. “I don't think he was crazy about trying it. Do you still want to come over?”

“Yeah.”

*   *   *

When he got there, she asked if he had had dinner yet. He said he hadn't and she told him to sit down at the kitchen table and she would make him a sandwich. He did as he was told, glad to do so. A middle-aged man like most, happy to have a woman feed him like a mom. She could walk over and mop his hair with her hand and take the effect too far. But she wouldn't.

She set the sandwich in front of him. She said, “Do you want a beer?”