The Confidence Woman (6 page)

“Don't chop on the counter. Use the cutting board,” Elizabeth indicated the butcher block that stood in the middle of the room and was piled high with baby clothes.

“I'm being careful,” the girl replied, continuing to chop. “I'm not cutting through to the counter, see?” She demonstrated the precision that allowed her to chop the vegetables without actually cutting into the tile countertop.

“This is my house, Allison,” Elizabeth said. “You don't chop vegetables on the kitchen counter in my house.”

“You don't need to remind me this is your house,” Allison replied.

“This
is where you chop.” With her free arm Elizabeth swept the clothes off the butcher block and onto the floor. Alarmed by the commotion, the baby in her other arm began to fuss.

“It's time for her nap,” Allison said, reaching for her daughter.

“I'll
put her down,” Elizabeth said. “You can clean up the mess in here.” She walked out of the room hugging the baby in her arms.

“I'm Claire Reynier,” Claire said, breaking an awkward silence and extending her hand to the girl.

“Allison Grady,” the girl replied, putting down her knife, wiping her hands on her jeans and shaking Claire's hand.

“Can I help you clean up?” Claire asked.

“I don't need any help,” Allison replied. She picked up the vegetables she had chopped, dropped them into the garbage pail, scooped up the baby clothes and walked out of the kitchen mumbling to herself.

Claire followed the path Elizabeth had taken into the next room, which appeared to be the living room. The house wandered as if the rooms had been tacked on at random whenever another one was needed. A golden retriever dozed on an overstuffed brown velvet sofa. A portrait of an elegant woman hung over the fireplace, Elizabeth's mother, an heiress who had preserved her fortune and made her daughter's way of life possible. As Claire recalled it was railroad money. She went to the window, deeply recessed in an adobe wall at least two feet thick, making the house a double adobe, even cooler, even darker. She was watching birds picking at seeds in the garden when Elizabeth returned without the baby. She sat down on the sofa, picked up the dog's head and placed it in her lap. The dog's legs trembled as it chased something in its sleep.

“Cálmate, perro,”
Elizabeth said.

“Is your mother still alive?” Claire asked.

“She died two years ago,” Elizabeth replied.

“My ex-husband's mother just died. One reason I came to Arizona was to go to the funeral.”

“How was that?”

“Difficult.”

“I suppose you also want to talk to me about Evelyn Martin.”

“I do.”

“Detective Amaral told me he now believes she was murdered. Does he think one of us killed her?” Her hand stroked the dog's silky back.

“We are the likely suspects,” Claire replied.

“Esperanza,” Elizabeth called. “Would you get us something to drink?”

A Mexican maid stepped into the room. “Sí, señora,” She went to get the drinks.

“I stopped at the sorority house on my way here,” Claire said.

“How does it look?”

“The
blue carpet is gone.”

“Thank God for that,” Elizabeth said.

“Being there reminded me of the time you found Miranda Kohl wearing your jacket.”

Elizabeth raised her chin and her blue eyes had a hard glimmer. “She stole it from me,” she said. “We hardly ever watch television in this house, but when we do and we see that Lemon Pledge commercial, I click it off.”

“If she stole it from you, why would she wear it where she might see you?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “She didn't expect to run into me that day. She forgot where she got it from. She was stoned. Miranda was a space case. I'm not surprised she became an actress, but, God, does she have to look so old in that commercial? Nobody could pay me enough to look
that
old.”

Esperanza came into the room with two glasses of iced lemonade and placed them on the coffee table.

“Gracias, Esperanza,” Elizabeth said. She was kind to maids, pets and children, ruthless to anyone she considered competition. Claire thought it a sign of insecurity to treat a significant other's daughter as competition, but that was one interpretation of the scene in the kitchen.

“Do you remember who Miranda's roommate was at the time?” she asked Elizabeth.

“No. I hardly remember who my own roommate was.”

“It was Evelyn Martin. I was in the hallway when the housemother pulled the clothes from Miranda's closet. I remember Evelyn standing in the background. It would have been very easy for her to have moved the clothes from her closet to Miranda's, to have given Miranda your jacket or even to have put it in the Goodwill box herself.”

“It's possible,” Elizabeth said, sipping at her lemonade. “Well, that would supply Miranda with motivation to kill Evelyn, wouldn't it? So why is Detective Amaral bothering us?”

“How would he know about Miranda? And why would Miranda go after Evelyn now when that happened so long ago?”

“Who knows?” Elizabeth asked. She yawned, indicating this conversation had begun to bore her, reminding Claire that she had a short attention span. She picked up a cell phone from the coffee table and cradled it in her hand.

“When did Evelyn visit you?” Claire asked.

“About a year ago. She looked terrible. She told me she was thinking of moving to Tucson, which was a lie since Amaral told me she was already settled in the house in Santa Fe by then. I'm on the board of several environmental organizations. I was busy and I hardly saw her. Jess spent more time with her than I did. He likes stray animals. This dog is one of Jess's strays, but she's a sweet stray. No one would ever accuse Evelyn of being sweet. Boring maybe. Boring may be inconspicuous but it isn't sweet.”

“When
did you discover that Evelyn had used your credit cards?”

“I didn't until Amaral called me. When the bills showed up, I just assumed Allison was the offender. She's sixteen. She couldn't cope after the baby was born and I took her in. She had problems with drugs. She had access to my mail and credit card offers. I assumed she was selling the stuff she bought or trading it for drugs. Jess didn't want to believe she would do it, but I thought he was in denial. Amaral said I should have reported it to the police right away, but I didn't see the point. I thought it was something we would work out here.”

“Did Evelyn steal something you valued from the house?”

“Some of my mother's silver was missing. It had been replaced with silver plate. When I discovered the switch, I attributed that to Allison, too.”

“Was it found in Evelyn's house?”

“Yes. Detective Amaral said I could claim it after the investigation is over. It isn't that valuable, but it was my mother's so it means something to me.”

“Did Evelyn send you a nightgown from Victoria's Secret?”

“She did. It was peach colored. Jess liked it,” Elizabeth smiled and opened the cell phone.

“Didn't you wonder where it had come from?”

“Not for long. Would you like to meet Jess?” Before Claire could respond, Elizabeth dialed a number. “Sweetie,” she said. “I have an old friend here who'd like to meet you. Okay. We'll be right over.” She put the phone down and turned to Claire. “He's in his shop. Jess is a fine woodworker.”

She lifted the dog's head from her lap and stood up. Claire followed her out the door, across the patio and into Jess's shop. He was standing at a workbench polishing an inlaid wooden bowl. The jeans he wore demonstrated that his legs were as long as Elizabeth's. Jess was Anglo, but he had adopted an Indian look. His black hair was parted in the middle and pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a silver and turquoise bracelet. It was a strong statement, but Jess was too pale to carry it off. He seemed lacking in energy to Claire. He had to be ten years younger than she and Elizabeth, old enough to have fathered a sixteen-year-old girl, but young to be a grandfather. He would be a trophy in some people's eyes, but not in Claire's. Elizabeth, who had enough drive for two, had the ability to steal other people's life force. It was the price they paid for drifting into her orbit.

Jess showed Claire the bowl he'd been working on. She admired it even though she thought the workmanship was sloppy.

“Claire and I went to college together. She was robbed by Evelyn, too,” Elizabeth said.

Jess shook his head. “There was something about Evelyn I didn't trust, but Elizabeth, she trusts everybody.”

Claire thought that Jess had to be under Elizabeth's influence to make that statement. In her
experience
the only people Elizabeth trusted were the people she controlled.

“Now that the police have established Evelyn was murdered, Detective Amaral thinks one of us did it, but you know it wasn't me. I was with you, wasn't I, darling?” Elizabeth put her arm around Jess and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Of course you were,” Jess replied.

“The state of the body makes it impossible to establish the exact time of death,” Claire pointed out.

“It doesn't matter. Whenever it was, Jess and I were together,” Elizabeth said.

Claire glanced at her watch. “It's been good visiting with you, but I need to go. I'm on my way to Lynn Granger's.”

“Give her my best,” Elizabeth said.

“Nice meeting you,” Jess said.

“You, too,” Claire replied.

Chapter
Six

A
S SHE DROVE NORTH FROM
T
UCSON
, Claire thought that Elizabeth had to be the kind of woman people meant by the phrase “high maintenance,” She demanded obedience and needed constant attention. Claire admired her drive and energy, but not what she did with it. Elizabeth had grown up in a family full of girls and apparently still considered every other female a competitor. Claire sought tranquility, and being around Elizabeth rattled her nerves. The road was full of semis and RVs that contributed to her edgy feeling. Claire remembered when I-10 from Tucson to Phoenix was a pleasant drive through the scrubby desert, but every time she returned to Arizona there were more vehicles on the road, more houses in the foothills, and both continued to increase in size. She looked forward to arriving at Lynn Granger's tranquil home in Cave Creek. To sit on the patio surrounded by saguaros, listening to the coyotes yip and howl, and watch the sunset with her old friend would be a soothing way to end this annoying day. Evan, Melissa and Elizabeth in one day had been too much.

She kept an eye on her rearview mirror, watching Tucson fading into the distance. The view blurred as her eyes filled with tears. What are you crying about? she asked herself. The loss of the past? The death of Nana? Although she hadn't been close to Nana, death was always upsetting. She couldn't be shedding any more tears over Evan and Melissa, could she? She and Evan had been together for twenty-eight years and had raised two children. She had put enough time between her and the divorce by now that she could remember some good times among the bad. She turned on the radio, spun the dial looking for classical music, but settled on Linda Ronstadt.

Although the traffic remained heavy, once Tucson was no longer visible, Claire felt better. She looked forward to visiting Lynn, the one sister she really enjoyed being with. She always followed the same route through Phoenix, taking the Black Canyon Freeway and Cave Creek Road.

Lynn moved to Cave Creek, a town north of Phoenix, with her first husband shortly after graduation from the U of A. She still lived in the same house, although with a different husband. Claire had been visiting here for twenty-five years. When she first came, Cave Creek was a small western town with a post office, a saloon, a few restaurants and an American Legion Hall, but now the main road bustled with restaurants and shops. You could get a latte here, which Claire considered the line of demarcation between the old west and the new. Once the roads leading into Cave Creek were lined with cactus. But Phoenix and Scottsdale continued to sprawl, and whenever Claire came back she saw more houses. Lynn had bought ten acres when land was cheap. The lay of her land was such that not another
house
was, or ever would be, visible from hers. The world outside sprawled and spread, but Lynn's property remained the same. The house, which had been built by her first husband, was simple but comfortable. The land and the view were spectacular. Claire believed there were indoor houses and outdoor houses. The Grangers spent most of their time outdoors.

When Claire pulled into the driveway, she saw Lynn and her husband, Steve, in the yard. Lynn wore jeans and a baggy T-shirt. She was letting her hair go gray and her body get plump. Claire hoped this was a sign of contentment. Lynn walked over to the truck followed by Steve, who had thin, sharp features and worried eyes. He had lost weight, which gave him the dry, scrawny look of a desert plant. Lynn looked like a well-tended and nourished house plant. The weight that had fallen off Steve appeared to have settled on her, as if a transfer of power had taken place. Steve had had heart surgery recently and he took it as a wake-up call. He learned how to reduce stress, exercise and watch his diet. Some of the most contented men Claire knew were men who had recovered from heart surgery, but she wasn't sure she would put Steve in that category.

“Good to see you,” he said, shaking her hand.

“You, too,” Claire replied.

Lynn gave her a hug. “How was the funeral?”

“Difficult.”

“You need a glass of Chardonnay,” Lynn said.

“You're right.”

Steve got the wine and they sat down on the patio. It was the time just before sunset known as civil twilight, Claire's favorite time of day, a reminder that peace and civility were possible. As the sun dropped near the horizon, the shadows of the saguaros lengthened. Their curved arms reached up in a way that made them appear almost human. They sat in silence for a few minutes while the sun dropped behind the horizon, silhouetting the Seven Sisters Mountains against the sky. The mountains here were round and gentle, in contrast to the jagged Sandias behind Claire's house. It was a time of near-perfect stillness. Then the sky darkened, the stars came out and the coyotes began to yip. Steve excused himself to make dinner.