Paging the Dead (16 page)

“The family ones,” I said. “She definitely had them on that afternoon when we saw her.”

“I didn't remember,” Linda said, frowning. “But she had lunch at the club that day and she wore this maroon-colored sweater set that was one of her favorites. She liked to wear the pearls with it so she probably did have them on. But I didn't see them when—” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I didn't see them afterward. The police had me go through the house with them trying to see if anything was missing, but I didn't know that much about Dorothy's jewelry. I just took care of the house. And I think Joe was probably useless, too. He never paid much attention to stuff like that. Vivian would probably have been the one to ask.”

“Was Cassidy still there when you left for the grocery store?” Esme asked.

“No, Jeremy came by to get her not long after you and Sophreena were there.”

“And you saw Dorothy after they left? Talked to her?”

“Well, no, actually I didn't
see
her,” Linda said, frowning. “I was making my list for the store. But after he and Cassidy went out to the car Jeremy came back in after something he'd forgotten. I don't know what. Anyway, he went out to the living room where Dorothy was and I could hear them talking. I took the garbage out and talked to
Cassidy a few minutes. She was restless waiting in the car. I was coming back into the kitchen as Jeremy was coming out the back door. He seemed flustered. He told me Dorothy wanted me to pick up her prescriptions, too, if I had time. I figured she must have asked him to do it and he'd said no. He hated it when she treated him like an errand boy. I tidied up a few things in the kitchen and left a few minutes after that.”

“Hank Spencer claims he's not sure when he actually got to Dorothy's. He says he was supposed to be there at four,” I said.

“That sounds about right if that was him I saw on the front porch. I went out the side of the circular drive that has the hedgerow, so I only caught a quick glimpse as I was driving by the front of the house.”

“And you just went to the grocery store and came right back?” I asked.

“No, no. I was gone a while. Ben was working his side job out at the golf course that night so I decided to take care of a few things while I was out. I drove out to Joe's garage to give him his birthday present from Dorothy, then I picked up her prescription from the drugstore. I dropped some library books off in the drop box then went to the post office to mail a package to our son at school. Then finally I picked up a few things at the grocery store for us and also Dorothy's items and drove back up to High Ground.”

“So you were gone for what? Maybe an hour?” Esme asked.

“That sounds about right. Could have been a little longer, I can't be sure. Like I said, Ben wasn't home and Dorothy
often ate late so I knew she didn't care. I wasn't watching the time.”

“Hank Spencer says he saw you taking bags out of the car as he was leaving. Is that possible?”

“I suppose,” Linda said. “I wouldn't have any reason to dispute that. You know how that curve in front of the house is. I wouldn't have been able to see a car parked in front. All I can say is I didn't see him, and honestly what he's saying makes things look bad for
him
, so why would he volunteer it if it wasn't so? I mean, I can't see how anyone else could have come into the house and done something to Dorothy after I got back. Surely I would have heard something. So do you think this Spencer guy did it?”

“I don't know what to think,” I said. “I guess you could say he has a motive but it's weak, if you ask me. That ring was originally in his family, but honestly he didn't seem that invested in that. It left the family generations ago and he never stood a chance of inheriting it anyway. He didn't strike me as someone who felt cheated or vengeful about it. But I think maybe Esme has another take on it.”

“I'll just play devil's advocate,” Esme said. “He seems like a perfectly nice guy. But remember, when you hear people being interviewed on television after some heinous crime they're always saying how shocked they are that their nice, quiet neighbor has been arrested. Co-workers saying the accused was the
last
person they would've thought capable of such a thing. And remember, as a tour director, he's a showman.”

“True,” I said. “And the timing does look bad for him. Or at least I think it does. Something's just not right. Linda, could we go over a few things again?”

She nodded and I doodled a rough timeline on my napkin as we talked.

“How long would you say it was from when you actually saw Dorothy last and the time you left for the store?”

“Saw her?”

“Or heard her,” I said.

“Let's see,” she said, frowning. “From the time I heard her arguing with Jeremy until I left for the store was probably about ten, fifteen minutes maybe.”

“They were arguing?” Esme asked. “You didn't say they were arguing before.”

Linda shrugged. “Not really arguing, it's just the way they were. You know, you've seen them together. Every little thing was a bone of contention.”

“And you say he was upset when he left?” I asked.

“Not upset exactly, just, you know, huffy.”

I glanced over at Esme and saw an almost imperceptible smile. Dorothy had pushed Esme and me both into the huffy zone on numerous occasions.

“So you didn't see or hear Dorothy again after Jeremy and Cassidy left?”

“No. I called out to her that I was leaving for the store, but she didn't answer. I figured she'd gone into her study or upstairs.”

“And when you were out doing the errands, did you have the radio on or notice a clock anywhere, anything that might help nail down the time?”

“No,” Linda said, twirling a strand of her dark hair between her fingers. “I've been over this a hundred times in my head and I can't pin it down. I'm trying to learn Spanish with
one of those do-it-yourself CDs and I always have that on in the car, so no help there. There was still plenty of daylight left when I got back, that much I know.”

“Okay,” I said, making myself a note to find out when the sun set that day. “Now, I know this is the hard part,” I said, “but can you start with when you got back to High Ground and tell me as much as you can remember?”

Tears pooled in Linda's eyes, glinting like rhinestones as darkness fell and the outdoor light kicked on. She shifted in the chair and started talking, her voice almost robotic. “Okay, I pulled in next to the garage and took the groceries in. I called out, but Dorothy didn't answer so I figured she was upstairs, maybe grabbing a quick nap. I fixed the fruit plate and made some cinnamon toast and hot tea to go with it. I had the thought I might stay and eat with her; I did that sometimes when Ben was working late. But I was tired. Vivian had me polishing silver and washing curtains to get ready for the open house. I went looking for Dorothy to let her know her supper was waiting and that's when I saw—” She choked.

“It's okay,” Esme said. “You don't have to go through that again.”

“No, you don't,” I said. “But on a lighter note, I'm curious. You say you went to take Joe Porter a birthday present from Dorothy? Wasn't their divorce about to be final? I thought Dorothy wanted him out of her life.”

Linda smiled and used a napkin to mop off her cheeks. “Yeah.” She laughed softly. “Well, Dorothy talked a good game, but she was still in love with Joe, I don't care what she
said. Her father really did a number on her and Ingrid both. I don't know which of them got the worst of it. Ingrid got disinherited, but at least she has her own life. Dorothy got the money, but it didn't get her much happiness. Joe really loved Dorothy but it seemed like she did everything she could to test him. He took it a lot longer than most men would have, but about a year ago it got really bad and finally he had to leave. Neither of them was happy about the breakup, I know that for sure. I saw it. Lately they'd been talking more on the phone and Joe would come by on one excuse or another. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if they'd gotten back together. In fact I wondered if that was what she'd planned to tell me that day—that Joe was moving back in.”

“And you saw Joe when you went to the service station?”

“No, he wasn't there. I just left the package on his desk.”

“Any chance it was Joe you saw at the front door when you were leaving?”

Linda frowned. “He wouldn't use the front door. Wait, surely you don't suspect Joe.”

“No, course not,” I said, which wasn't entirely true. I didn't
want
to suspect Joe Porter. I liked the man. But I hadn't been able to shake the image of him talking with the mechanic who'd spooked me. Nor the memory of him pulling on that yellow golf hat. It didn't add up to much, but it made my ears prick up.

“Joe is a sweetheart,” Linda said. “He would never hurt Dorothy. And neither would I, despite what Vivian might be saying about me. She never liked it that Dorothy was friendly with me. She thought it was
inappropriate
.”

“Why?” I asked.

Esme snorted. “Because Linda worked as a housekeeper and that's how service people get treated sometimes.”

Esme wasn't exactly clear-eyed when it came to this issue. Her own mother had worked in service for nearly forty years and had gotten very little thanks for her toils.

Linda smiled. “If it had been up to Vivian I'd have had to wear one of those little black and white uniforms with an apron and hat. But Dorothy didn't treat me like a servant. She paid me well and when Ben was sick last winter she sent over meals—okay, they were catered from the country club but that was all the better. Dorothy was a terrible cook.” She half-laughed, half-sobbed. “And nobody else knows this, she swore me to secrecy about it, but I guess it doesn't matter now. She gave each of the boys a thousand dollars when they graduated from high school to help out with college expenses. A thousand dollars. You just can't know what a big help that was.”

“Very generous,” Marydale said. “Maybe I misjudged the woman.”

I'd been thinking the same thing, and even Esme had a wistful look.

“I've told you, Marydale,” Linda said. “She was a good person. She just had a prickly personality. You had to get used to her ways and lots of people gave up before they got to that point.”

“Vivian sure got used to how she was,” Marydale said. “She thought Dorothy could do no wrong.”

“That's the reason I can't be too mad at her right now, even if she does deserve it,” Linda said. “She's grieving and that makes people act crazy sometimes. They were really
close, but they occasionally fell out over little things. I think maybe that's what's making Vivian behave so badly. She and Dorothy had a set-to—a pretty rowdy one—just the day before Dorothy died. I don't think they got a chance to patch things up.”

“Do you know what they fought about?” I asked.

“It was the open house,” Linda said. “At least that was part of it. I didn't hang around listening but it was so loud I couldn't help but hear some of it.”

“What did you hear?” Esme asked.

Linda sat for a moment, her face contorting, and finally a giggle escaped, then another until she was consumed.

We all looked at one another, eyebrows raised. I wondered if she was hysterical and if I should slap her sharply the way they always do in the movies.

Finally she got control of herself. “I'm sorry, but this is
so
ridiculous in light of everything that's happened. It was the lawn decorations. Vivian had decided a great way to honor Harrison Pritchett was to use the products his company manufactured as part of the décor. I saw her sketchbook. Most of it was quite nice. She had planters set inside coiled garden hoses and garden tools like hoes and rakes teepeed around tiki lights. But she went too far. She'd wanted port-a-potties lining the back edge of the lawn, doors open and bouquets of flowers in the seats and spilling out the doors. I'm sorry,” she choked, overcome with laughter again. “I know this is inappropriate but I can't stop.”

“I can picture Dorothy's face,” Esme said, as she too sputtered a laugh. “She did not like to be reminded the fortune was built on portable necessary rooms.”

“And to think we agonized over how to finesse this for the scrapbooks,” I said. “We should've put a photo of a port-a-john on each cover.”

“But a tasteful one,” Linda said, wiping at her cheeks again. “Honestly, it wasn't unusual for Vivian and Dorothy to quibble. They had, let's say, spirited discussions about a lot of things—mostly silly things in my opinion. Clothes, food, even hairstyles. From what I overheard Dorothy must have upset Vivian by saying something critical about her hair that day, too. But I guess all that just proves how close they really were. They squabbled but they stayed friends.”

“Vivian told us herself that Dorothy schooled her in the refinements well-to-do clients expect in their events when she was just starting up her business,” Esme said. “Guess she missed the lesson about no loos on the lawn.”

“No privy on the patio,” Marydale chimed in.

“No latrines on the lanai,” I contributed.

This instigated another round of giggles and just then Coco appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. She took in the scene with a perplexed expression.

“I don't know this game,” she said. “But how about no toilets on the terrace?”

I
DON'T CLAIM TO BE DEVOUT, BUT ON THIS
S
UNDAY MORNING
I
had the urge to attend mass. I craved the solace of ritual and assurances the angels were on our side. Or maybe it was plain old guilt. I'd judged Dorothy Porter without taking the trouble to get to know her. And I should know better.