Four Sue Grafton Novels

by Sue Grafton

  It had taken her half the school year to realize something was wrong. At first, Liza was just busy. Kathy could understand that because when they finally got together, it felt like it always had. They’d giggle and eat popcorn, pour Dr Pepper over ice and have burping contests. Gradually she realized how distant Liza had become. She seemed cool, evasive, and Kathy couldn’t think why. Her mother was the one who pointed it out: first, there’d been Violet, then Ty. Liza had her hands full, so it should come as no surprise she had little left to give. And now that she babysat all the time, what was Kathy supposed to do?

  After she’d delivered the birthday present to Liza’s room, she’d spent a few minutes wandering around, touching Liza’s things. Her hairbrush smelled exactly like her and the teddy bear Kathy’d given her was still propped up against the pillows, which she thought was a good sign. She hadn’t meant to snoop, but when she spotted the diary wedged in that dark, cobwebby space behind the bookcase, she’d sat on the bed and leafed through the pages in hopes of feeling connected. She knew it was a form of make-believe, but she loved the illusion of Liza sharing secrets, even though she hadn’t actually confided anything for quite some time. She was also a tiny bit worried Liza was saying unkind things about her behind her back. It was possible Liza had an objection or complaint she was too scared to tell her to her face. Kathy thought perhaps if she could see herself from Liza’s point of view, she could correct whatever it was that was making Liza pull away.

  On she read, somewhat discomfited to realize she wasn’t mentioned at all. The entries about Ty created a sharp pang. She suddenly understood that while she, Kathy, was focused on normal teen concerns, Liza was moving into womanhood. The details of Liza’s relationship with Ty created a weird sensation of heat between Kathy’s legs. At times she’d felt something similar when reading True Confessions and she’d known it was wrong. She’d done her best to steer Liza away from tawdriness and back to the safety of movie stars and movie magazines. She assumed she’d succeeded so it was doubly shocking to realize that Liza was caught up in the same conflicts that filled trashy publications. How degrading for her. No wonder she couldn’t bring herself to confide. Kathy could just imagine the stories: “Too Ashamed to Tell My Best Friend!” “His Love Is Leading Me Down the Wrong Path but I Can’t Stop Myself!” “If Only I Had Someone to Turn To: One Young Woman’s Struggle to Stay Pure.”

  Instantly, Kathy knew she could be of help. As desperate as Liza was, she’d never be able to confess her plight. And, quite naturally, Kathy couldn’t admit that she’d read the diary behind Liza’s back. No wonder Liza was withdrawn. Given Kathy’s high standards, Liza probably thought she’d be repulsive to her. How could she aspire to Absolute Purity when she was already compromised? Tampax had been the first step. The insertion of a tampon might even have unleashed slumbering impulses of the lowest sort. She had to find a way to let Liza know there was hope, that she hadn’t strayed so far that there was no turning back. She was fully prepared to offer her friend whatever help she needed. It was just a matter of eliciting the information she wasn’t supposed to have.

  While she’d waited for Liza’s call, she rehearsed various ways of broaching the subject. It wasn’t Liza’s fault. Liza’s father didn’t even live in the same state. Liza scarcely saw him, and when she did, it was only, like, every six months, and Liza said they didn’t really talk. In effect, she had no moral guidance whatever, so what could you expect? In most of these scenarios, Liza would weep with gratitude, and Kathy would comfort her at length.

  Hours passed and Kathy was seriously alarmed by the time her mother finally hollered up the stairs. “Kathy? Liza’s on the phone.”

  Kathy’s stomach was knotted with dread. What if Liza had spent the whole day with Ty? What if he’d kissed her and she’d found herself melting at his touch. Kathy had meant to convey her utter trustworthiness, but she’d forgotten about the bath powder and Liza’s thanking her for the gift had thrown her off. Next thing she knew, all her pain had poured out. She sensed how pathetic she was, but she longed for the familiar Liza, instead of this alien person who’d been locked in the arms of a “Boy from the Wrong Side of the Tracks!” Liza hadn’t even seemed contrite. She said she was sorry, but it didn’t sound that way. Kathy had been so relieved when she realized the problem was Liza’s mother. Sick and contagious? Well, no wonder. What did the woman expect at the rate she smoked cigarettes and drank? Kathy comforted her friend as best she could, but there wasn’t any way to steer the subject around to you-know-what. Even so, by the time they hung up, everything seemed fine. She’d still have to find a way to worm the truth out of Liza, but at least things were back to normal. The problem was, she didn’t feel happy and she couldn’t figure out why.

  That’s what had driven her to the can of Chef Boyardee, not hunger so much as confusion and despair. Her mother called her for supper and she was finally able to sit down at the table. She ignored her parents’ little spat and focused on her plate. She’d been looking forward to the Welch Rabbit, which was every bit as good as she’d hoped. Soft, warm cheese oozing across the golden brown raft of Wonder Bread. She’d put oleo on the toast and the taste of melted margarine under the puddle of rich cheese was enough to make her weep. Her pain was receding and she was almost feeling safe when her father made an offhand remark about Liza. Kathy could hardly pay attention. She was starving. She hadn’t finished the can of ravioli and she knew if her parents noticed how eagerly she was plowing through her food, they’d snatch it away from her and leave her desolate. She’d suffered losses enough.

  At first, the notion of Liza having lunch with Violet was absurd. Where’d he get that? She knew he said it to be mean, but he didn’t usually make things up. Then she caught his mistake. “Very funny. Ha ha. And where’s Daisy all this time? Did you forget about her?”

  “She was sitting right there with a big bowl of buttered noodles she was slurping through her lips.”

  That was the line that clinched it. Her father had never even been around Daisy. How could he know about her slurping her noodles unless he’d actually seen her do it? She’d protested, arguing the point, but only because she didn’t want him to see he’d gotten the best of her. Her mother’s feeble attempt to intervene only made it worse.

  By the time her father left the house, Kathy was taking the steps two at a time, on her way to her room. She slammed the door and locked it. Weeping, she threw herself across her bed. This was the worst day of her life! She’d never felt so betrayed. Liza had lied about everything. On her very own birthday, she’d chosen to be with Violet Sullivan. They’d spent the whole entire day in a fancy restaurant, eating shrimp. All Kathy had ever wanted was to be with her friend and now look what she’d done.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been crying when she heard a little tap at her door and her mother calling her name. She knew her eyes were swollen to the size of Ping-Pong balls and her nose was so snotty she wondered if she was coming down with a cold. “Go away!”

  “Kathy, I brought you something. Do you mind if I come in?”

  “Just leave me alone.”

  “I have a little treat for you.”

  “What.”

  “Open the door and you’ll see.”

  Reluctantly Kathy blew her nose on a hankie and wiped her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt. She got up and unlocked the door.

  Her mother stood holding a glass of milk and a plate of brownies. “I made these for my canasta club, but I have plenty. They’re your favorite—double chocolate with walnuts and pecans.”

  “I don’t feel like eating.”

  “Not even one? You hardly ate your supper so you must be a little hungry. Can I come in? Just for a minute?”

  “I guess.”

  Kathy went back to her bed and sat down. Her mother put the glass of milk and the plate of brownies on the bed table. She could tell the brownies were still warm because she could smell the chocolate, as heady as perfume. She couldn’t remember when he
r mother last offered her something to eat. Usually it was the other way around. Yet here they were, Kathy with her heart broken, her mother sitting on the other twin bed, her expression filled with concern. “Are you feeling better?”

  “No.” Without looking at the plate, Kathy reached out and took a brownie and held it in her hand.

  Her mother said, “I can see how upset you are.”

  “So.”

  “I can understand why you’re mad at Liza for lying, but is there anything else?”

  “Like what?” She broke off a corner and put it on her tongue. She could feel tears sting her eyes.

  “I don’t know, Sweetie. That’s why I asked. I get the impression there’s more here than meets the eye. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  Kathy couldn’t figure out what her mother was getting at. “Not really.”

  “Kathykins, I don’t want us keeping secrets. That’s not what a mother and daughter do when they want to feel close.”

  Her mother hadn’t called her “Kathykins” since she started her menstrual periods a year and a half ago. Her mother had already bought supplies—a box of sanitary napkins and this strappy elastic-belt thing you had to wear around your waist to hold the pad in place. Demonstrating how to stick the long, gauzy part of the pad in the fastener, she’d had the same worrisome look on her face, like maybe Kathy was suddenly vulnerable in ways she couldn’t bear to explain. Her mother went on in that same loving tone. “I know you’re withholding something. Can you tell me what it is?”

  “I’m not withholding anything.” She broke the remainder of the brownie in two and put half in her mouth.

  “You know I’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

  Kathy looked up with astonishment. “Muuther, I didn’t do anything! How can you think such a thing when I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then what? I want you to be absolutely honest. Whatever you tell me will never leave this room.”

  Kathy was silent, staring at the floor. She didn’t exactly have a secret but she did have something that seriously concerned her. She knew her mother would have good advice, but she wasn’t really sure she could trust her with this. “You’ll tell Dad.”

  “No, I won’t. As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with your health or safety. Short of that, this is just between us.”

  “It’s not about me.”

  “Then who? Liza? Did she say something ugly about your weight?”

  “No-oo.” Two syllables. Something ugly about her weight? What ugly thing could her mother possibly have in mind? She was the one who talked about inner beauty.

  “But it has to do with her?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Has her mother’s drinking gotten worse?”

  Kathy shook her head, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

  “Oh? And why would that be?”

  Kathy had vowed to herself she’d never utter a word of it. Once she figured out how to get Liza to confess, she pictured the two of them in long, heartfelt conversations, sitting up half the night the way they’d done in the past. They’d roll their hair in bobby pins and smear Noxzema on their faces so they wouldn’t get zits. Gently, she’d help Liza see the error of her ways and guide her to safer ground.

  Her mother studied her. “I don’t understand what could possibly be going on with Liza that you’re too ashamed to say.”

  Kathy felt she was under a certain amount of pressure here, torn between her loyalty to her best friend and her longing to throw herself into her mother’s arms. “I promised I wouldn’t tell.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Liza touching herself?”

  “Touching herself with what?”

  She saw something shift in her mother’s face. “Oh my lord. Is she letting Ty Eddings have his way with her?”

  Kathy could feel a little mustache of perspiration forming on her lip.

  “Answer me.”

  Kathy murmured a reply, keeping it as vague as possible to keep from lying to her mom.

  “Speak up.”

  “She let him touch her boobs and put his hand…” She managed to mumble that last.

  “Where?”

  “Down there.”

  Livia looked at her, aghast. “She told you that?”

  Kathy shrugged one shoulder.

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Kathy said nothing, but she moved her mouth in a way that suggested she was sure. After all, she’d read about it with her very own eyes.

  Her mother’s gaze was searching. “You wouldn’t lie about a thing like this to get back at her?”

  “No.”

  “How far have they gone?”

  “Not very. Just petting.”

  “Petting? Is that what you call ‘petting’—when he puts his hand on her privates? That’s disgusting. Outside of her clothing or inside?”

  She hadn’t expected her mother to probe for this kind of detail. The diary hadn’t been specific and Kathy didn’t like having to commit herself. Outside, inside. Pick one. “Out.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she would have told me if he put his hand inside.”

  “Well, thank heaven for small favors. You wait right here. I’m going to take care of this.”

  “What are you doing?” Kathy wailed. “You can’t tell anyone. You promised.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Ty Eddings was sent here to shape up after the unfortunate situation he created in Bakersfield. If Dahlia York ever found out I knew about this and didn’t go straight to her, she’d never speak to me again, and rightly so. I’ve entertained her in my own home and I owe her that much.”

  “But what if Liza finds out?”

  “She’s not going to find out. Trust me. Your name won’t come into it.”

  Kathy listened with something close to horror as her mother went downstairs to the phone in the lower hall. Kathy hadn’t meant to tell on Liza, but her mother just seemed to jump to the right conclusion before Kathy even said a word. She heard Livia give the operator Dahlia York’s number and then there was a silence while she waited to be connected.

  Kathy’s stomach felt queasy, like she might have to go to the bathroom and do number two. The situation had gotten out of hand, but it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t lie to her very own mother, could she? What kind of person would that make her? Besides which, if Liza’d been honest to begin with, she never would have breathed a word of it because that’s what best friends do. Petting was wrong. The pastor said it created temptation, that kids might lose their self-control and go all the way. So maybe it was just as well she’d spoken up when she did. She couldn’t stand by and let something that horrible happen to her friend. It was like her mother said to Dahlia, her voice drifting up the stairwell: “That boy is sure to take advantage if the situation isn’t nipped in the butt.” Her mother’s voice went on and on until Kathy tuned her out.

  Anyway, how would Liza ever know where Ty’s aunt got the information?

  31

  My conversation with Ty Eddings was polite and to the point. I gave him a brief synopsis of the situation—the discovery of Violet’s body buried in the Bel Air, the speculation about the hole and how long it would have taken to dig. I also repeated what Liza’d told me about the man she and Ty had seen at the Tanner property on Friday night. “Do you remember anything about the make or model of the car? Liza thought it was dark-colored, but that’s the extent of it. She says she was so scared she didn’t really look.”

  “It wasn’t a car. It was a late-model black Chevrolet pickup truck.”

  “It was? I’m amazed. How do you remember things like that?”

  “Because my dad had one like it, only his was a ’48. This one was newer.”

  “What about the guy? What did he look like?”

  “I don’t remember him. Old.”

  “Like what? You were seventeen.”

&nb
sp; “Thirties, forties, something like that. In other words, he wasn’t a kid.”

  “No one you recognized?”

  “I’d been in town for all of three months. I didn’t know anyone to speak of except my high school classmates.”

  “Good point.” I asked a couple of other questions, but he wasn’t any help.

  I was moving into my wrap-up tone of voice, not wanting to waste his valuable lawyerly time, when he said, “How’s Liza doing?”

  “Great. I’m so glad you asked. She’s divorced. She bakes cakes for a living. She’s just become a grandmother for the first time, but you’d never guess by looking at her because she’s gorgeous. Too bad you didn’t keep in touch.”

  “Don’t blame me. That was her decision. I wrote six or seven times, but I never heard back. I assumed she wasn’t interested.”

  “That’s not what she says. You disappeared the same weekend as Violet. She was devastated. Even now she says you were the love of her life. ‘A bad boy, but so adorable.’ Her words.”

  “Are you matchmaking?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know. Are you available?”

  “Actually, I am. My wife ran off with my secretary eighteen months ago. Talk about a loss. The wife, I don’t miss. My secretary was the most efficient woman I ever met in my life.”

  “Liza’s married name is Clements. She’s in the phone book. If you remember anything else, I’d appreciate your giving me a call.”

  “Will do,” he said, and clicked off.

  I tried Liza’s number. She was either out or screening her calls, so I left a message on her machine, asking her to get back to me. My purpose had nothing to do with her erstwhile boyfriend. She’d lied to me about Foley and I wanted to know why. I glanced at my watch. It was 4:35, and at best I owed Daisy another hour and a half. It’s not that I was punching a time clock, but I felt honor-bound. The problem was there was almost no point in confronting anyone else because who’d be dumb enough to volunteer the truth? You’d have to be a fool to admit anything when most claims couldn’t be proved or refuted after thirty-four years. The best I could hope for was to encourage folks to rat each other out. Even then, the answers wouldn’t be definitive. A clever killer would make it his business to implicate someone else. In any event, the problem wasn’t mine to solve. The sheriff’s department was handling the homicide, mustering all the authority, expertise, and technical advances at their disposal. All I needed to do, with Daisy’s permission, was to pass along my report, which might or might not help.