Judgment Call (31 page)

Joanna upped Isadora's estimated age by another decade. “And still driving,” Joanna said.

“Yes,” Isadora agreed with a nod, “just not at night, and not, as it turns out, in rental cars.”

Joanna returned to reading the article.

“As you can well imagine,” Isadora observed as Joanna finished reading, “that's a highly sanitized version of what happened. Most of the real story is still classified.”

Joanna turned her computer screen far enough around so Deb could read the article for herself. If the guys at Wikipedia believed Gunnar Creswell was a spy, maybe there was something to the CIA story.

“Tell us what you can of the unsanitized version,” Joanna urged.

Isadora sighed. “My first daughter-in-law, Gunnar's first wife and Debra's mother, was named Alice. She died in an automobile accident a few months after Debra was born. My second daughter-in-law was a money-grubbing gold digger. Isabelle came from Indiana—a farm girl with delusions of grandeur who ended up being Miss Indiana.

“She assumed that since Lloyd and I had money that Gunnar had money, too. She may not have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but you couldn't tell that from the way she acted. Not long after they married, Isabelle made it abundantly clear that Gunnar wasn't living up to her high expectations. His job at the Pentagon didn't earn enough to allow him to keep her in the manner to which she wanted to become accustomed. She insisted that he buy her a house in what she regarded as the right neighborhood in D.C. regardless of whether they could afford it. She wanted expensive cars. She wanted expensive clothes. She wanted the best schools for Alyse and for Jimmy.”

“Who are Alyse and Jimmy?” Deb asked.

“Alyse was Debra's given name,” Isadora explained. “Her original given name. Jimmy was her baby brother.”

“Was?” Deb asked. “Is he dead, too?”

“Not as far as I know. But back then, whenever Gunnar's salary didn't stretch quite far enough to suit her, Isabelle fully expected him to come to us for a handout. He must have gotten tired of having to ask us for help. Instead of doing that, he went looking for another source of funds. Unfortunately, he found one.”

“And a spy was born,” Joanna said.

“Yes,” Isadora agreed. “The problem is, Gunnar wasn't very good at it. He got caught.”

“How?”

“Alyse,” Isadora said simply.

“She turned in her own father?”

“Not exactly. You have to understand that even before Jimmy was born, Isabelle treated Alyse like so much extra baggage. Whenever Isabelle lit into Alyse, my son always took his wife's part. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. She was a sweet thing. Lloyd and I were more than happy to have her spend a few weeks with us each summer, and she never gave us a bit of trouble. As my husband got older, he was ill and housebound much of the time. Whenever Alyse visited us, she was our little ray of sunshine.

“One day when Alyse was thirteen, the three of us were having breakfast when she announced, out of the blue, that she thought her daddy was a spy. Lloyd choked on his coffee. I thought he was going to have another coronary on the spot. He may have been a retired banker, but he was a true patriot. Before he could go off on a rant, I managed to step in and ask Alyse whatever would give her such a strange idea.

“She said she was coming home from the library with some friends. They were taking a shortcut through Book Hill Park when she saw him sitting there on a bench with a woman—a beautiful woman—Alyse had never seen before. She thought it was odd that he would be there then because he was supposed to be at work. She started to go over to him and then something made her stop. Instead, she stayed where she was and watched.

“Knowing men, my first assumption, of course, was that Gunnar was playing around and maybe having an affair, but Alyse soon disabused me of that notion.

“‘It was just like in the movies,' she said. ‘When he got up to leave, he took her briefcase and left his with her.'

“When breakfast was over, Alyse went on her way, leaving Lloyd and me sitting there shattered. I tried to pass it off as a case of a thirteen-year-old with an overly active imagination, but Lloyd took it seriously, and he went into overdrive. He fought in World War Two, you see. He was there on D-day and at the Battle of the Bulge. The idea that his own son might be a traitor to his country was more than he could tolerate.

“Lloyd had a friend of a friend look into Gunnar's finances. It took some time to pull all the facts together, but sure enough, he was spending half again more than he was making. He wasn't even smart enough to hide it. The Russians must have been keeping an eye on things, too. They knew he was compromised even before the people on our side did. Whoever the woman was, they pulled her out and sent her back home.

“That left Gunnar to take the fall all by himself, and, believe me, he was by himself. Lloyd and I never spoke directly to Gunnar after he was arrested, but we made it abundantly clear to Isabelle that we wouldn't be lifting a finger to help, and that included footing any bills for defense attorneys. Isabelle ended up screaming at me on the phone, telling me what a terrible person I was and that she'd see to it that I never saw my grandchildren again because she was taking them with her and going back home to live with her parents in Indiana.

“Speakerphones were new then, but we had one,” Isadora continued. “Lloyd heard every word. When Isabelle hung up, he had me call our attorney to come make a house call and rewrite our will. Lloyd was determined that that woman would never inherit one thin dime of our money.

“Then, within days of that phone call, Gunnar died. It was dreadful. Since there was already so much ill will involved, Lloyd absolutely refused to attend the funeral. Between the time Gunnar died and the time of his funeral, the friend of a friend got back to Lloyd and told him that the authorities suspected that the woman Gunnar had been involved with was a top Russian spy and that they might have to interview Alyse in hopes of identifying her.”

“It sounds like your ‘friend of a friend' was well connected,” Joanna commented.

Isadora nodded. “He was, very, and don't expect me to give you his name because I won't. Our big worry, of course, was Alyse. She was little more than a child who, because of her father's reckless behavior, was in danger of being turned into a Cold War pawn. If the CIA thought Alyse could give them information, it was only reasonable for the opposition to do everything in their power to make sure that didn't happen. Maybe Gunnar committed suicide, maybe he didn't, but believe me, the people involved on both sides were utterly ruthless, and so was Isabelle.

“As I said, Lloyd refused to go to the funeral, so I went by myself. There was a reception at the house after the funeral. I went to that, too, even though I hadn't been officially invited and knew I wasn't welcome. I went because I wanted to see Alyse. She spent most of the day in her room, crying her eyes out. That's to be expected. She had just lost her father. But it turned out that Isabelle blamed Alyse for it. Told her it was all her fault that Gunnar was dead since Alyse was the one who raised questions about her father being a spy. Alyse was devastated.

“Right then, I could see the writing on the wall, and I think you can, too,” Isadora added. “Think about every evil stepmother story you've ever heard. I knew that's how Alyse's future was going to play out. Once they got back to Isabelle's hometown folks in Indiana, Alyse would have been an outcast. I had already seen that Jimmy was the favorite. He would be the perfect child and Alyse would always be the ‘other' one, tolerated rather than loved. And young as he was, Jimmy got it. He'd do mean little things to Alyse, and Isabelle let him get away with it, usually blaming her for whatever happened.

“And he did it again at the reception. I saw it happen. Jimmy spilled someone's glass of wine and blamed it on his sister. Isabelle went ballistic. That's when and why I made up my mind—completely on the spur of the moment. I asked Alyse if she wanted to go to Indiana with her stepmother. She said no. I told her that there was a chance dangerous people might be looking for her. Which, it turns out, was all too true. I also told her that if she wanted to come with me right then, that very minute, her grandfather and I would do our best to protect her.”

“You took her from her father's funeral reception?”

“Yes, I did, and I'm not sorry, either. I had her pack a suitcase and smuggle it out to the car. When it was time to leave, I had her get in the backseat and lie down on the floor, and away we went.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. My best friend from grade school was in charge of a parochial school in upstate New York, the St. Giles Preparatory School. I stowed Alyse with Sister Benedict for a few days while I went home to face the music. I thought Lloyd would be furious with me, but I was wrong. He was the exact opposite. By then he knew far more about Gunnar's situation than I did, and Lloyd thought I'd done the right thing. In fact, he was the one who came up with the idea of changing Alyse's identity. We had some help with that, of course.”

“Let me guess,” Joanna said. “From your friend of a friend.”

“Exactly,” Isadora said, beaming. “That was in April of that year. With his help and with Sister Benedict's, by September Alyse Creswell had become Debra Highsmith and was enrolled at age fourteen as a freshman in Good Shepherd in Albuquerque.”

“Did anyone suspect you of being involved in Alyse's disappearance?”

“No. Not at all. From the beginning, she was regarded as a runaway. Isabelle was all over network TV begging for Alyse's safe return, but that was just for show. I did feel a little guilty when I knew there were police officers and volunteers out searching the parks and dragging the river, but that didn't last long. The runaways that stay in the news are the ones who have family members out there lobbying for their return. Isabelle had her hands full. By the time the funeral was over, the bank was already foreclosing on their house. Even with the extra money Gunnar was making, Isabelle had managed to spend it faster than it came in. By the beginning of May she and Jimmy were off to Indiana—Fort Wayne, I think.”

“You didn't stay in touch with Isabelle?”

“I tried to, at first, for Jimmy's sake. The letters and cards and gifts I sent were all returned unopened.”

“Where's Jimmy now?”

“I have no idea. I finally gave up, but I still had Debra. She's gone by that name for so long now, I barely remember she was once Alyse.”

“Over the years the two of you communicated strictly by letter?”

“Always. Through Sister Benedict at first, and later through Sister Benedict's successor. We both sent our letters to the convent, and they passed them along. It was the only way I knew to keep Debra safe.” Isadora paused a moment. “At least I thought it would keep her safe, but now we know I was wrong. Someone found out. Just because the Cold War is over doesn't mean a thing. The people running the show may change, but a spy is still a spy. I keep wondering if Gunnar's female friend from back then is a VIP of some kind in the new Russia. It could be that anyone who might be able to tie her back to what she did in the old days could still be considered a threat.”

“You're saying you still believe Debra's death to be some kind of holdover from the Cold War.”

“I do indeed.”

There was a small pause in the conversation, and Joanna knew it was time to change the subject.

“In her letters to you, did Debra ever talk about the Hirales family?”

“Of course,” Isadora said. “I was incredibly grateful to know that those kind people had taken her into their home and into their hearts. I couldn't risk letting her come home or have me come visit her, so it meant everything to me that the Hirales family let Debra come stay with them over the holidays and during summer vacations. There was always a chance the phones were bugged or that someone had put listening devices in my house. I couldn't even risk hearing the sound of her voice. I slept better at night knowing she had someone on this side of the country who treated her like family.”

“How much do you know about them?”

“The Hirales family? Quite a bit, I suppose,” Isadora said, then she paused and frowned. “Well, there's Sue Ellen, of course. She was Debra's first roommate and her best friend. Then there are Sue Ellen's parents, Nancy and Augusto, who adopted a son, much later in life. Michael, I believe his name is. He was in Iraq or Afghanistan or one of those places for a while, but he's back home now and going to law school. He sounds like a very bright young man.”