K is for Killer (14 page)

“No problem,” came the reply.

Serena left the door ajar, positioning her chair so she could keep an eye on the corridor. “Sorry you had to wait. I was up on the medical floor. My father was readmitted a
couple of days ago, and I try to peek in at him every chance I get.” She had a wide, unlined face and high cheekbones. Her teeth were straight and square, but slightly discolored, perhaps the result of illness or poor nutrition in her youth. Her eyes were light green, her brows pale.

“Is his illness serious?” I sat down on a chrome chair with a seat padded in blue tweed.

“He had a massive heart attack a year ago and had a pacemaker put in. He's been having problems with it, and they wanted to check it out. He tends to be a bit obstreperous. He's seventy-five, but
very
active. He practically runs the Colgate Water Board, and he hates to miss a meeting. He thrives on adrenaline.”

“Your father isn't Clark Esselmann, by any chance?”

“You know him?”

“I know his reputation. I had no idea. He's always raising hell with the developers.” He'd been involved in local politics for fifteen years, since he'd sold his real estate company and retired in splendor. From what I'd heard, he had a rough temper and a tongue that could shift from saltiness to eloquence depending on the subject. He was stubborn and outspoken, a respectable board member for half a dozen charities.

She smiled. “That's him,” she said. She slid a hand through her hair, which was coppery, a cross between red and dark gold. It looked as though she'd had some kind of body permanent, because the curl seemed too pronounced to be entirely natural. The cut was short, the style uncomplicated. I pictured her running a brush through her hair after her morning shower. Her hands were big and her nails blunt cut but nicely manicured. She spent money on herself, but not in any way that seemed flashy. Suffering illness or injury, I'd have trusted her on sight.

I murmured something innocuous and then changed the focus of the conversation. “What can you tell me about Lorna?”

“I didn't know her well. I should probably say that up front.”

“Janice mentioned that you're married to the fellow Lorna worked for at the water treatment plant.”

“More or less,” she said. “Roger and I have been separated for about eighteen months. I'll tell you, the last few years have been hellish, to say the least. My marriage fell apart, my father had a heart attack, and then Mother died. After that, Daddy's health problems only got worse. Lorna house-sat for me when I needed to get away.”

“You met her through your husband?”

“Yes. She worked for Roger for a little over three years, so I'd run into her if I popped in at the plant. I'd see her at the employee picnics in the summer and the annual Christmas party. I thought she was fascinating. Clearly a lot smarter than the job required.”

“The two of you got along?”

“We got along fine.”

I paused, wondering how to phrase the question that occurred to me. “If it's not too personal, can you tell me about your divorce?”

“My divorce?” she said.

“Who filed? Was it you or your husband?”

She cocked her head. “That's a curious question. What makes you ask?”

“I was wondering if your separation from Roger had anything to do with Lorna.”

Serena's laugh was quick and startled. “Oh, good heavens. Not at all,” she said. “We'd been married ten years, and we both got bored. He was the one who broached the
subject, but he certainly didn't get any grief from me. I understood where he was coming from. He feels he has a dead-end job. He likes what he does, but he's never going to get rich. He's one of those guys whose life hasn't quite come up to his expectations. He pictured himself retired by the age of fifty. Now he's past that, and he still hasn't got a dime. On the other hand, I not only have a career I'm passionate about, but I'll have family money coming to me one of these days. Living with that got to be too much for him. We're still on friendly terms, we're just not intimate, which you're welcome to verify with him.”

“I'll take your word for it,” I said, though of course I'd check. “What about the house-sitting? How'd Lorna end up doing that?”

“I don't remember exactly. I probably mentioned in passing that I needed someone. Her place was small and remarkably crude. I thought she'd enjoy spending time in a more comfortable setting.”

“How often did she sit?”

“Five or six times altogether, I'd guess. She hadn't done it for a while, but Roger thought she was still willing. I could check my calendar at home if it seems relevant.”

“At the moment I don't know what's relevant and what's not. Were you satisfied with the job she did?”

“Sure. She was responsible; fed and walked the dog, watered plants, brought in the newspaper and the mail. It saved me the kennel fees, and I liked having someone in the house while I was gone. After Roger and I split, I moved back in to my parents' house. I was interested in a change of scene, and Dad needed some unofficial supervision because of his health. Mother's cancer had already been diagnosed and she was doing chemo. This was an arrangement that suited all of us.”

“So you were living at your father's at the time Lorna died?”

“That's right. He's been under doctor's care, but he's what they call a ‘noncompliant' patient. I had plans to be out of town, and I didn't want him in the house alone. Dad was adamant. He swore he didn't need help, but I insisted. What's the point of a getaway weekend if I'm worried about him the whole time? As a matter of fact, that's what I was trying to set up when I went to her place and found her. I'd tried calling for days, and there was never any answer. Roger told me she was taking a couple of weeks' accrued vacation, but she was due back any day. I wasn't sure when she'd get in, so I thought I'd stop by and leave her a little note. I parked near the cabin, and I was just getting out of my car when I noticed the smell, not to mention the flies.”

“You knew what it was?”

“Well, I didn't know it was her, but I knew it was something dead. The odor's quite distinct.”

I shifted the subject slightly. “Everyone I've interviewed so far has talked about how beautiful she was. I wondered if other women regarded her as a threat.”

“
I
never did. Of course, I can't speak for anyone else,” she said. “Men seemed to find her more appealing than women, but I never saw her flirt. Again, I'm only talking about the occasions when I saw her.”

“From what I hear, she liked living on the edge,” I said. I introduced the matter without framing a question, interested in what kind of response I might get. Serena held my gaze, but she made no reply. So far she'd tended to editorialize on every question I asked. I ran the query one more round. “Were you aware that she was involved in other activities?”

“I don't understand the question. What kind of activities are you referring to?”

“Of a sexual nature.”

“Ah. That. Yes. I assume you're referring to the money she made from the hotel trade. Humping for hire,” she said drolly. “I didn't think it was my place to bring that up.”

“Was it common knowledge?”

“I don't think Roger knew, but I certainly did.”

“How did you find out?”

“I'm not sure. I really can't remember. Indirectly, I think. I ran into her at the Edgewater one night. No, wait a minute. I remember what happened. She came into the ER with a broken nose. She had some explanation, but it didn't make much sense. I've seen assault and battery often enough that I wasn't fooled. I didn't say so to her, but I knew
something
was going on.”

“Could it have been a boyfriend? Someone she was living with?”

I could hear voices in the hallway.

She glanced over at the door. “I guess it could have been, but as far as I knew she was never in any kind of steady relationship. Anyway, the story she told seemed suspect. I've forgotten what it was now, but it seemed phony as hell. And it wasn't just the broken nose. It was that in conjunction with some other things.”

“Such as?”

“Her wardrobe, her jewelry. She was subtle about it, but I couldn't help noticing.”

“When was the incident that brought her to the emergency room?”

“I don't remember exactly. Probably two years ago. Check with Medical Records. They can give you the date.”

“You don't know hospitals. I'd have better luck getting access to state secrets,” I said.

A baby had begun to cry fretfully in the waiting room.

“Does it make a difference?”

“It might. Suppose the guy who punched her decided to make it permanent.”

“Oh. I see your point.” Serena's eyes strayed to the open door again as Joan went past.

“But she didn't confide in you when she came in?”

“Not at all. After I saw her at the Edgewater, I put two and two together.”

“Seems like a bit of a leap.”

“Not if you'd seen her the night I ran into her. Part of it, too, was the guy she was with. Older, very slick. Gold jewelry, gorgeous suit. Clearly a man who had money to burn. I saw them in the bar and later in the boutique where she was trying on clothes. He dropped a bundle that night. Four Escada outfits, and she was modeling a fifth.”

“I assume Escada is expensive.”

“Dear God.” She laughed, patting herself on the chest.

Lights were going on in the examining cubicle across from us. I could hear the murmuring of voices: fussy baby, shrill mom speaking rapid-fire Spanish.

Serena went on. “It happened again within the month, as I remember. Same situation, different guy, same look. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”

“You think one of these guys knocked her around?”

“I think it's a better explanation than the one she gave. I'm not saying this is always true, but some guys in that age bracket start having trouble with impotency. They pick up high-priced call girls and spread the money around. Champagne and gifts, a gorgeous babe in tow. It looks good on the surface, and everybody thinks what a stud he
is. What these men are looking for is a one-up relationship because they can't ‘get it up' any other way. He's paying for the service, so if the equipment doesn't work, it's her fault, not his, and he can express his disappointment any way he likes.”

“With his fist.”

“If you want to look at it from his point of view, why not? He's paid for her. She's his. If he can't perform, he's got her to blame and he can paste her in the chops.”

“Some deal. She keeps the cash and the clothes in exchange for the punishment.”

“She doesn't always get punished. Some of these guys like to be punished themselves. Beaten, humiliated. They like to have their little fannies spanked for being bad, bad, bad.”

“Did Lorna tell you this?”

“No, but I've heard it from a couple of other hookers on the local circuit. I also did some reading on the subject when I was getting my degree. I used to see them come in, and I'd be incensed at the way they were treated, furious because I didn't really understand what was going on. I'd jump to the rescue, trying to save them from the ‘bad' guys. For all the good
that
did. In an odd way, I'm a better nurse if I can stay detached.”

“And that's what you did with her?”

“Exactly. I felt compassion, but I didn't try to ‘fix' her. It was none of my business. And she didn't see it as a problem, at least as far as I knew.”

“You seem to spend a lot of time at the Edgewater. Is that where the singles hang out these days?”

“The singles in our age group, yes. I'm sure the kids would find it stuffy beyond belief and the prices astronomical. Frankly, it makes married life look pretty good.”

“Do you happen to remember any dates when you saw her? If I check with the hotel, it helps to pin it down.”

She thought about that briefly. “Once I was with a bunch of girlfriends. We get together to celebrate birthdays. That time it was mine, so it must have been early in March. We don't always manage to get together on the exact date, but it would have been a Friday or Saturday because that's when we play.”

“That was last March?”

“Must have been.”

“Was this before the broken nose or afterward?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did Lorna know you knew?”

“Well, she saw me that night and maybe twice before that. Since Roger and I had separated, I was out with friends almost every weekend. Lorna and I didn't come right out and discuss her ‘career,' but there were veiled references.” Serena had used the fingers of both hands to form the quote marks around the word
career
.

“I'm just curious. How do you happen to remember in such detail? Most people can't recall what happened
yesterday
.”

“The police asked me most of this, and it stuck in my mind. Also, I've given it a lot of thought. I don't have a clue why she was murdered, and it bothers me.”

“You believe she was murdered?”

“I think it's likely, yes.”

“Were you aware that she was involved in pornography?”

Serena frowned slightly. “In what way?”

“She starred in a video. Someone sent the cassette to her parents about a month ago.”

“What was it, like a snuff film? S and M?”

“No. It was fairly pedestrian in terms of the story and subject matter, but Mrs. Kepler suspects it may be linked to Lorna's death.”

“Do you?”

“I'm not being paid to have opinions at this point. I like to keep my options open.”

“I understand,” she said. “It's like making a diagnosis. No point in ruling out the obvious.”