Larkspur (24 page)

I punched the Down button. "I heard a power saw when we first got there. Do you think
Lydia...?"

"Hush. Time will tell." The elevator door opened and disgorged half a dozen scruffy
citizens, two I recognized as reporters, and a female deputy who smiled at Jay. We both smiled
back.

I got into the elevator. "I'll call when I get home."

Jay blew me a kiss and turned back to his office as the door closed. Both reporters
followed him.

I reached Eagle Cap Lodge about half an hour before the appointed time. I could have
gone up to Ma's room but needed a moment to sort out my thoughts. She was going to want to
talk wedding. I walked around and admired the gardens. The patrons looked very expensive.
When we finally went down to lunch, Ma did talk wedding.

The fashion for bloated ceremonies, grotesquely expensive and full of
Bride
Magazine
ideas of Meaningful Symbolism, was then at its height. My mother is not a slave
to fashion, so I was a little surprised that her plans leaned in that direction.

I put both feet down hard. I also pointed out that Jay had been married before and was
not, as it were, a virgin. That distracted her from visions of color-coordinated tuxedoes, as I had
hoped I would, but she grilled me about Jay's first marriage so mercilessly I took refuge in
fiction. I didn't know the details. He and I hadn't got around to discussing them. So I made up a
plausible and dignified scenario. I think Ma believed it. I also resolved to cross-examine Jay as
soon as possible.

Mother refused to see me wed in a forest glade near Lake Alice, though I catalogued the
advantages of a double ceremony with Dennis and Ginger, only half joking. We finally settled on
a small private ritual in our backyard in Childers, New York, and even set a date in August. I
could see Ma was mentally reviewing her roster of caterers, so I mentioned the partial thumbprint
on the Beretta.

She leaned forward over her crab Louis. "Will a partial thumbprint show anything
useful?"

I paraphrased Jay's description of the lab's new computerized matching system.

"Heavens. Does he think an arrest is likely?"

"He said there might be a witness near the farmhouse."

"Do you think the killer was Lydia Huff?"

I took a bite of asparagus. "It seems more and more possible. She has to be at least a
material witness."

"That's a strange family."

"How so?" I thought they were depressingly normal.

Mother buttered a bit of her roll. "It feels as if it were straining to fly apart. Bill is very
unhappy."

"Very sloshed."

Ma chewed. "That's a symptom. And Janey's a puzzle."

"I should go running with her today. I suggested it while we were at the lodge, but I keep
putting her off."

Mother regards voluntary physical exercise as a fly-by-night fad, so she ignored my mild
guilt. "What does Janey do for a living?"

"Works in a public library up in Oregon. She's a librarian, not an aide, so she probably
makes a living wage. What I don't understand is why she's staying with Lydia, whom she
obviously despises."

Ma paused to appreciate a chunk of Dungeness crab. "Perhaps she's trying to protect her
father. The children of alcoholics are often parental. Is she an only child?"

"I don't know." I sipped my iced tea. "But Lydia's the parental one--toward Bill, I mean.
She's a classic enabler." I described how Lydia had intercepted Bill that first night at the lodge
and sent him up to sleep off the booze. And how she had hovered over him the next morning,
talking baby-talk, when he was hung-over.

"How did Janey react to that?"

I didn't remember Janey reacting at all. Janey was beside the point, anyway, if Lydia was
on the verge of arrest. It was true that Dennis's "evidence" was shaky and uncertain. I could see
why Jay hadn't sworn out a warrant, but if he found the smallest fragment of corroboration I
knew he would act.

"Are you going to that cocktail party at D'Angelo's apartment this afternoon?"

"Certainly." Mother took a last blissful bite of crab. "We have to look at the notebooks
again, talk things over."

"I wish you wouldn't go."

"Why?"

"Lydia's bound to be there." If she wasn't in custody. "I don't trust her an inch." I folded
my heavy cloth napkin. "I don't trust any of them. Not after yesterday."

"Yes, I see your point. Nevertheless," she said, signing the check and writing in her room
number, "I
am
going. I'll see you at ten tomorrow morning, darling." She was going to
drive in to the bookstore, and we would have lunch again before she drove the rental car to the
airport. She was flying out north,
via
Portland. "Keep me posted, and tell Jay I want to
see him before I leave."

I wondered how Jay felt about August weddings. I would find out.

The phone was ringing as I came in the door. I kicked off my shoes and padded over to it
in time to hear Jay leave a message on my answering tape. I interrupted him as he finished.
"Have you had lunch?"

"Lark? Did your mother go to D'Angelo's?"

I checked my watch. "Should be there by now."

"Who else was going?"

"Martha, Win, the Huffs." I carried the phone over to the refrigerator and started poking
in the freezer compartment, looking for something to nuke for dinner. Fish? Chicken Cordon
Bleu? Weight Watchers' Lasagna?

I heard Jay draw a long breath. "We've got an awkward situation here."

"No kidding?" He'd been in an awkward situation since the discovery of Miguel's body.
"Give."

Hesitation. "Will you just go on over there and keep an eye on your mother?"

"Crash the party? Come on."

"The thumbprint on the clip was Bill Huff's. We got a match."

I shut the refrigerator door and leaned against it. My brain kicked in. "Then, if it was
Bill's gun..."

"All we know is he loaded the clip. Probably not recently. The gun was
unregistered."

"Then how...?"

"We took his prints at the lodge. The Navy has them, too, but it takes time to pry
information from the feds, so we just sent what we had down to Sacramento and told them to
cross-check the suspects. We couldn't tell for sure that the print matched, but the new computer
came up with Huff on the first try."

"Impressive."

"Yes. Will you go on over to D'Angelo's? If Janey is still at the Huff place, we'll try to
execute the search warrant, and she'll probably call Bill. When he comes to the house, we'll take
him in for questioning. Meanwhile, someone should keep an eye on Lydia."

"Haven't you questioned her yet?"

"We only got the good word an hour ago. I phoned and asked to see her at seven. She
said she was going to D'Angelo's. I needed more evidence anyway, so I decided to delay..." His
voice came back strong. "I may have made another mistake. I don't want any more victims."

I got the point. My pulse raced. I envisaged Lydia's craftworker hands twisting the scarf
around Denise's neck.

"You'll have back-up, but I don't want to alarm the suspects. I'll send a car to D'Angelo's.
Check in with the deputy when you get there."

"Who?"

"Dan Cowan."

I refrained from groaning. After all, Cowan had saved Jay's bacon two days before. "I'm
on my way."

"Lark?"

"What?"

"Take care."

"You, too," I muttered. "I love you." I hung up, dashed into the living room and scuffed
back into my shoes, grabbing my purse. I locked the door behind me out of pure habit and
clattered down the back stairs to my car. I don't remember the drive to the apartment complex. I
probably broke all kinds of speed laws.

I wheeled into a spot marked Visitors and jumped out. As I did, a marked sheriff's car,
no siren or lights, nosed into the lot. I stood on the curb until Cowan saw me and rolled down his
window.

"Evening, Ms. Dailey. Which unit is it?"

D'Angelo lived in a townhouse, two-storey, two bedrooms up, at the edge of a grassy
common that led to the swimming pool. Rose bushes in full flower lined the short walkway to his
door. I pointed. "Over there."

"Okay. If you need help, open the door and yell. I'll sit where I can keep an eye on it."
Dan was chewing gum and sounded bored.

"Thanks." I jogged across the lawn and up the walk. I hadn't seen Ma's car in the lot,
though that meant nothing. It was an undistinguished vehicle, and the lot was nearly full. I leaned
on the bell.

Martha Finn opened the door almost at once. When she saw who it was, her eyes
widened briefly, but she was an actress. She gave me her number two smile, gracious welcome to
interloper. "Hello, Lark. What a nice surprise." She was wearing a cool lilac-and-pink striped
caftan that looked like I. Magnin.

I hoped my skirt wasn't too crumpled. I had given no thought to the tale I'd have to spin,
either. I presumed Jay didn't want me alerting Bill and Lydia before he had a chance to put his
deputies in place at the Huff's house. "Er, ah, is my mother here?"

"Surely. Come in. Win and Mary are sorting papers, but we were about to have a drink. I
hope you'll join us."

"Uh, thanks." I followed her solid, graceful form down the hall and stopped dead in the
archway that opened on the sunken living room. All four occupants of the room gaped at
me--Ma, D'Angelo, Lydia, and Janey.

"Hi." Confusion set in. Where was Bill? "Did you get your run in, Janey?"

Janey twitched a smile. "Couple of miles at the high school track." She looked relaxed,
as if she'd had a good workout and a cool shower. She was wearing a long-sleeved pink tee shirt
and pants made out of pink sheeting fabric.

All four of them sat around the low myrtlewood coffee table, Janey and Ma on cushions
on the carpet, D'Angelo and Lydia chummily together on an oatmeal-colored sofa.

"What are you doing here?" Ma put the question the others were probably too polite to
ask. The table before her was covered with neat exercise books, the kind with marbled cardboard
covers. She squared one of the piles.

"Jay's on duty. I got scared alone in that apartment."

This was truly feeble taradiddle at five in the afternoon, but for some reason everyone
fell for it. Martha practically shoved me into a low-slung chair, and everyone clucked. It was all
so innocent and kind-hearted I began to feel like a paranoid wacko. Lydia told a crisp little tale of
being left alone while Bill attended a reunion. She got scared and almost shot one of the cats, she
said. Ho, ho. I didn't ask her which gun.

Martha had gone off toward the kitchen to fetch munchies. Janey followed her. D'Angelo
rose and went to a small cabinet on rollers that was stocked as a bar.

I looked at Ma. She was frowning slightly. I cleared my throat. "Get all the papers
sorted?"

She tapped the pile of notebooks. "What we had to. Did something happen?"

Unwilling to lie to her, I just shook my head. I turned to Lydia. "I thought Bill was
coming. Too bad he couldn't make it."

She gave a brief, tinkly laugh. "Oh, you know Bill. He deputized Janey, said he had
business calls to make for the paper. I think he wanted to loll around and watch the Cubs on
cable." Her eyes glittered. They were the color of gray that sometimes seems incandescent. I had
noticed the glow before, but I didn't know what it meant. She didn't say a word about her
upcoming interrogation.

She trilled another laugh and rose. "Let me help you, Win. What do you need?"

D'Angelo was setting out glasses. "Poll the company. Gin and tonic, right, Mary?"

Ma nodded.

"Me, too," Lydia echoed, giving a little nervy bounce. She trotted off toward the
kitchen.

"Lark?"

I started. "Just ginger ale, Win. Thanks." I wished Jay would hurry up. If Bill were home,
Jay would probably do his search, take Bill in for questioning and stop for Lydia on the way.

The ordeal began to stretch before me forever. I wasn't keeping much of an eye on Lydia.
Guilty and a bit scared--what the hell were they doing in the kitchen?--I got up. Ma was still
watching me, still frowning. Apparently D'Angelo had noticed nothing strange in my behavior.
He had gone off into a discussion of the early notebooks, rattling glasses and ice cubes while he
talked.

Ma answered him absently. She was watching me. I grimaced and rolled my eyes
kitchenward. Ma's frown deepened.

As I began to move back toward the hallway, I heard the three women erupt from the
kitchen on a gale of giggles, Lydia's rather shrill. I moved up to the arch and waited for
them.

Martha led the way, bearing a tray of canapés on which peeled shrimp figured
largely. Janey was carrying a bowl of salsa and a basket of assorted crackers. Lydia brought up
the rear, empty-handed. When she spotted me, she trolled out gaily, "Were you about to send a
posse for me? Two white wines, Win. One with spritzer." Innocent as a newborn babe.

"I had to stop Janey from pigging out on the crackers and salsa," Lydia added with one
of her malicious grins.

Janey scowled at her and put the crackers down on the coffee table. Ma was setting the
neat stacks of notebooks on the carpet beneath the table to make room for the goodies.

Everyone fluttered and settled, so many doves in the cote.

Lydia--could she not sit still?--jumped up again and danced over to D'Angelo. "Oh,
gorgeous. Lime slices. I'll take the tray, Win. Mix yourself a nice gentlemanly scotch, and let me
be your cup-bearer. Lark?" She thrust the tray out at me.

I took my tall ginger ale glass and a paper napkin. The two gin and tonic glasses sat
smugly and identically beside each other. My stomach twisted. Surely Lydia hadn't had a chance
to lace Ma's drink. Or mine.

The phone rang.

"Damn," D'Angelo said mildly. "Can you get that, Martha?"

Martha popped a prawn in her mouth and looked around.

"Over by the fern."