The Cluttered Corpse (21 page)

I was halfway through my very late cup of coffee when my brain clicked in and I realized that the man who denied being Emmy Lou's father was probably the person who slashed my tires. But slashing tires was a big step up from ignoring my questions. So why would he want to frighten me off?

Jack was passed out when I knocked on his door. I heard a muffled groan from inside and then the door opened. “Please tell me it's the middle of the night,” he said.

“It's the middle of something.” Of course, I had the advantage. I'd walked the three dogs, showered, done my hair, and put on a pair of slim brown dress pants and my yellow leather jacket. All in top speed so I could get going fast and make up for lost time.

I'd had breakfast and three cups of coffee. I was ready to run rings around him.

“I'd like to get over to the hospital to see how Lilith's doing this morning. Maybe we should get the LeMans. One of us can take Rose home afterward.”

“Boy.” He had the wide-eyed look he gets without his glasses. “You're talking awfully fast. I can take Rose home. And I'll be happy to spend time with Lilith. Do you want me to come with you now?”

“Thanks, Jack.” I felt my chin wobble.

“And Charlotte?”

“Hmm?”

“I can close the store for the day. Whatever it takes.”

I had time to swing by Klean and Brite on my way to the hospital. As I walked through the door, I felt a tiny tickle from my subconscious. Of course. The pleasant blowsy woman behind the counter had been one of Emmy Lou's classmates, clearly recognizable despite the fifty pounds she'd added. Her hair seemed stuck in the eighties style, but maybe that was the humidity. It was a long shot, but after all, high school is such an intense experience, some people have every person in every class etched in their brains.

I slid my claim slip across the counter and said, “This might be a weird question, but do you remember Emmy Lou Wright?”

“I remember everyone from high school,” she replied. “It's taking tonight's dinner from the freezer that I forget. She was a beautiful girl.”

I leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I heard she had a breakdown.”

“Who wouldn't?”

“What?”

“Wouldn't you have a breakdown if you were forced to give up your baby?”

“I'm sorry. Did you say give up her…?”

“That was the rumor going around. I know she was in bad shape after Roger Starkman died, but I always wondered if the real breakdown didn't happen after they snatched that kid from her. Hang on, I'll get your cleaning for you.”

“Wait! Did
everyone
know about Emmy Lou's baby?”

“Her family tried to hush it up. That was crazy. So many girls had babies back then. Anyway, you can't keep something like that a secret.” She paused and frowned. “I don't
think
it was a story. Emmy Lou left town, and she didn't come back for years. Can't say I blame her. It was a real surprise to hear she moved back to Bell Street. I'll tell you one thing: I would never want to see the people who did that to me. I'd never forget and I'd never forgive.”

When I found Rose in the relatives' lounge, she looked as drawn and gaunt as any patient in the trauma unit.

She said, “Don't try to talk me into going home. I can catnap here and be good as new. Lilith's off having tests for the next while.”

“Fine. Let's go to the cafeteria. At least you can have some food and coffee, and we'll have a chat. I can swing by your place later and get you a change of clothing.”

Rose didn't put up any resistance. Over what the hospital optimistically called “food” and “coffee,” I filled her in on Emmy Lou and the baby she may have been forced to give up.

“That's a terribly sad story,” she said.

“Yes, it is. Now I have to figure out what it means. It answers some questions but raises just as many.” I'd thanked my subconscious, of course, for the connection. I could hear little pieces ringing deep in my brain, like a wind chime. The only problem was that when the pieces fell into place, they didn't make sense.

“So, Rose, you know Myrna Dingwall. You said she was your age.”

Rose managed a weak chuckle. “Yep. Just another kid into her seventies.”

“But Kevin is only twenty-three.”

“These things happen.”

“But did it happen in this case, Rose?”

She bit her lip. “I wondered about that too. When the other baby died, Myrna went into a real depression. Didn't come out of the house, didn't get out of bed. It lasted an awful long time. Fred still worked with my late husband then. He was beside himself. Then after a while, he sent Myrna away to visit family somewhere out of state for a while. When she came back, she had her beautiful new baby boy. That's all I know.”

“Emmy Lou Wright was forced to give up her child at about that time.”

Rose twisted her hands. “People gossiped, of course. I never liked that kind of talk. I was happy for her. It's not the kind of thing you question.”

“There's no question that Mrs. Dingwall loves Kevin. And so does Emmy Lou. Here's what I think might have happened. I think Emmy Lou never got over losing Roger Starkman, her boyfriend, and then having her baby taken away. I think she came back, not to aggravate her horrible father, but in spite of him. She wanted to be near to her son. I think being so close to Kevin was driving her to the brink. And Tony Starkman was her boyfriend Roger's nephew, a reminder. They played stupid stunts, but she would have been on edge all the time anyway. Imagining things, having trouble concentrating, forgetting things.”

“That might send anyone up the wall,” Rose muttered. “Especially if it was a secret. These are more open times, Charlotte. It used to be that every family had secrets; every neighborhood was full of them. Babies born and whisked away, girls who left suddenly and came back sad, if at all, affairs, double lives, battered wives, abused children, so many things we pretended didn't exist.”

I said, “Perhaps some of those old secrets are causing grief.”

Rose said sadly, “If Kevin was Emmy Lou's child and she was estranged from her family, it must have been horrible for her. Especially keeping that secret from Kevin himself.” Rose glanced over sharply. “Do you think her husband knew?”

“He's a smart man. He has his own daughter. But I doubt that he'd have a problem with Kevin.”

“And who is she protecting?”

“It must be Kevin. Perhaps he and Tony were clowning around and Tony fell. But Kevin was away with his mother, visiting the grandmother. He couldn't have done it. Unless…”

Rose's gnarled hand shot to her bloodless lips.

I said, “Unless Myrna Dingwall is lying about when they drove away.”

“To protect him. Same as Emmy Lou.”

I met her gaze. “Or to protect herself.”

“You think she killed Tony, accidentally or even deliberately?”

“She wasn't too fond of him, and she didn't believe he was good for Kevin. Afterward, she would have made sure that Kevin was out of the way. I doubt if he'd have been aware of the time. She was the one who told me when they returned.”

I watched Rose's kindly face crumble. “But she would be setting Emmy Lou up in that case. That's a very wicked thing to do.”

“She had no way of knowing that Emmy Lou would scream out a confession in front of everyone. And if she hadn't, Tony's death would have probably looked like an accident.”

Rose said, “And where is Lilith in all this?”

“I don't know. But if it's a coincidence, it's a huge one. Lilith was asking questions on Bell Street when she was hit. Even though the questions were about Bryony Stevens, maybe someone didn't realize that.”

Rose shook her head slowly. “I don't believe that Myrna would run down an innocent girl like Lilith because she was asking questions. I think you're wrong about that, Charlotte.”

“Let's hope so. There are delivery vans speeding up and down there all the time. Maybe one of them hit her. But even so, I feel responsible for what's happened.”

After I left Rose, I left a message for Nick Monahan, asking if the witness who'd mentioned the white van had actually seen the van hit Lilith. I wasn't sure if he'd have the guts to call me back, but I had to do something.

Lilith was still unconscious when she was wheeled back to the room. Her spectacular turquoise tips were a thing of the past, replaced by sterile bandages. I spent the rest of the day by her bed, alternating with Rose, who was catching up on her sleep in the relatives' lounge. Rose tiptoed in from time to time, looking ten years older, wan and worried. I used the time during Rose's visits to step out and call Sally and bring her up to speed. I phoned Dwayne and let him know the project would be a bit slower because Lilith was in the hospital. Finally, I told Gary Gigantes the news about Lilith and also my break-in.

“That's too bad, Charlotte. I heard about that hit-and-run, but I didn't make the connection with your friend. You do what you gotta do. I'm ready anytime,” he said. “The trim's cut. Got good deals on the bookcases, so I used the savings to get you some lighting to show off the collection. Won't take long to install. You're number one on the list, so whenever you're ready, give me a shout. Even if I start another job, I'll slot yours in. I'll let the next client know right up front.”

“You're amazing, Gary. As soon as Lilith's out of the woods, I'll be able to concentrate. I have a lot to do, because of my break-in and everything else.”

“I'm here.”

In between visits from Margaret and Jack, who both wanted to be in the loop, I kept an eye on Lilith's sleeping form and did a bit of work to take my mind off my guilt over putting her in that situation. Logic told me the hit-and-run had to be connected to Tony's death and Emmy Lou's situation. Lilith's presence had stirred up Tony's killer in some way.

I fiddled with notes and diagrams. Tried to remember what Patti had said about who lived where. Made mind maps. Drew arrows connecting people. I proceeded with a few assumptions. First, the chances were good the person was connected with Bell Street and specifically with Emmy Lou. Second, that all or most of our bizarre experiences over the last few days were linked.

I did a little map of the block.

On one side:

• Numbers 2 and 4: Demolished, now vacant lots
  
• Number 6: The Van Loons, a housebound couple in their eighties
  
• Number 8: Kevin and Mrs. Dingwall
  
• Number 10: Emmy Lou and Dwayne
  
• Number 12: Bonnie and Bill Baxter
  
• Number 14: Someone away on road trip
  

On the other side:

• Number 5: The Mrazeks, a couple in their late seventies
  
• Number 7: Mr. T. Wright and Mrs. Wright, who probably had a name too
  
• Numbers 9 and 11: Vacant properties being demolished. Owned by Mr. T. Wright and possibly Mrs.
  
• Number 13: Patti Magliaro upstairs
  
• Number 13: Downstairs, Patti's landlord, Ralph—visiting his son in Florida
  
• Number 15: Vacant—sold but not yet occupied
  

Fine. What about Mr. Wright? A bully? For sure. Heartless? Sounded like it. A child growing up without a pet or even a stuffed animal. A man who would disown his daughter. A man who would coerce her to give up a child she wanted. A man who appeared to dominate his timid wife. Would such a man kill Tony, the nephew of the boyfriend who set things in motion? Mr. Wright owned the property where my tires had been slashed. He'd seen me asking questions of people on the street. He was obviously hostile. Did he have something to hide? He could have made the call to Pepper saying I'd threatened the boys. He might have overheard, perhaps even from an open window. He would have seen Lilith outside the house with me. My face had been all over the news. My address and phone number were listed in the phone book. He could have trashed my house. One more way to frighten me. A major question was how he could have obtained a key. But for all I knew he'd been a career locksmith. I wrote “KEY????” next to his name.

He was the most appealing villain, hands down. But why would Emmy Lou lie to protect such a vile person? Did she still love her father in spite of everything? Did she want to protect him? That seemed likely.

I moved to another house on the list: number 8. Kevin might have accidentally killed his friend, or even been at the scene, but Kevin was no conspirator. Bonnie and Bill had seen the Dingwalls leaving around noon. But we had only Mrs. Dingwall's word about when they'd returned. For sure, she would have lied to protect her son if he'd caused Tony's death. But it was more likely that she had done it. Ridding herself of a troublesome bad influence in her son's life. I closed my eyes and recalled our conversation in her living room. She had a deep voice. She'd have no trouble sounding like a man on the phone. She was close enough and strong enough to slash the tires on the Miata. On the other hand, I was pretty sure she hadn't been a locksmith or a burglar, and anyway, she hadn't had any opportunity to get her mitts on my keys.

It was fairly obvious that a demolition team had been working on the site of numbers 9 and 11, but I hadn't seen any of them. Still, tradespeople were in short supply with the renovation boom in Woodbridge. On the other hand, those properties are owned by T. Wright. I put a “?” next to them.

Across the street at number 10 where I'd started, there was Dwayne, seemingly loving husband. I had suspected he might be better off with Emmy Lou out of the way, although now that I knew he was Bryony's father, not her lover, I found it hard to give that idea any weight. And he certainly wouldn't be better off with Emmy Lou on trial or in a mental hospital. In fact, the legal costs would probably bankrupt him. However, unlike Mrs. Dingwall, he could have easily copied my keys when I was checking out the house. He'd been alone in the room with my handbag. Unfortunately, I couldn't come up with a plausible reason for him to trash my house or slash my tires.

Also at number 10 was Emmy Lou herself. But Emmy Lou was locked up in the psych ward, which was why I was so upset in the first place.

Was I wasting my time? I bit my lower lip and stared at what I had so far. A moan from the hospital bed distracted me. Lilith's eyelids fluttered. I dropped my papers and stood up.

“Lilith?”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry about. I'm so glad you're back.” I squeezed her hand.

The eyes closed again.

“Lilith,” I said, “who ran you down?”

Soft breathing, then a raspy, “Don't know.”

“Who did you see on Bell Street? Did you talk to Mr. Wright? Mrs. Dingwall? Bill and Bonnie?”

A soft, soft, “Yes.”

“The workers at the demolition sites?”

“My head hurts.”

What was I doing? Lilith had regained consciousness. The medical staff had to be informed. Rose needed to know. I leaned over and rang the bell for the nurse.

“You rest,” I said.

Lilith whispered again, “Needed distraction. Talked about the toys. Tried to trick them…about Sunday.”

At that moment the nurse bustled through the door. “What can I do?”

“She's awake.”

“I'll get the doctor.”