“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
AS SHE DROVE NORTH FROM TUCSON, 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.
“How was the ex?” Lynn asked as soon as he had disappeared into the house.
“All right, I guess. I didn’t talk to him for long.”
“And the new wife?”
Claire shrugged. “She was there, but I managed to avoid her. I went back to the sorority house after the funeral.”
“Oh, God, what was it like after all this time?”
“I felt like I didn’t belong there and maybe I never had. Next I went to see Elizabeth, who was being bitchy to her boyfriend’s daughter.”
“She always was bitchy, wasn’t she? What did you think of Jess? You did meet him. didn’t you? I can’t imagine Elizabeth not showing her trophy off to everyone who visits.”
“Is that how she thinks of him?”
“Most likely,” Lynn said.
“He seemed nice.”
“Nice? Do you think Elizabeth keeps him around because he’s nice?”
“All right, he’s young, tall, good-looking, but Elizabeth seems to be sapping his energy.”
“She does that to everyone, which is why her relationships never last. Once the conquest is over and she has a man totally under her control, she gets bored.”
“When I visited the sorority house, I saw a Goodwill box, and it reminded me of the time Elizabeth accused Miranda Kohl of robbing her. Do you remember that?”
“I remember, and I know Miranda was not the thief.” Lynn was vehement in her defense, reminding Claire that she and Miranda had kept in touch all these years. Lynn had once wanted to be an actress and lived out her unfulfilled dream by following Miranda’s career. Considering that Miranda’s career had brought her to the point of posing as an old woman in Lemon Pledge commercials, Claire thought Lynn might have made the wiser choice. She had a devoted husband. She lived in a beautiful place.
“Evelyn was her roommate then. Did you ever consider that she was the thief?” Claire asked.
“Not at the time, but it makes perfect sense now.”
Eventually Steve called them in for dinner. As far as Claire could tell nothing but the photographs had changed inside the house in all the years she’d been coming here. The brown sofa in the living room appeared to be the same brown sofa she’d seen on her first visit. Lynn had never been very interested in decorating. They sat down at the table and Steve served a dinner that would have pleased a cardiologist. Claire couldn’t find a drop of fat anywhere. The chicken had been grilled and the skin removed. The potatoes were boiled and so was the asparagus. Desert was a dish of strawberries, no cream, no sugar. Lynn couldn’t be putting on the pounds eating like this.
She took a few bites, complimented her husband on his cooking, then returned the conversation to Evelyn. “I didn’t think of her when the credit card bills appeared, but Steve did.”
“I knew the house wasn’t robbed,” he said, cutting into his chicken. “We’re always home. Anyone robbing mailboxes around here would be noticed because there’s so little traffic on the road. The other guests we’ve had were all family or close friends. Why would Evelyn look Lynn up after all this time? I didn’t believe her when she said she wanted to move to Cave Creek. It’s isolated, it’s not a good place for a single woman. I told her she’d be happier in Santa Fe.”
“Do you think Evelyn would have been happy anywhere?” Claire asked.
“No,” Lynn replied.
“Have you seen Miranda recently?” Claire asked.
“She and her husband, Erwin, live in New River now. She’s on location a lot, but we see them when they are in town. Erwin and Steve play golf together.”
“You’d enjoy meeting him,” Steve said. “He can be entertaining. I could invite him over tomorrow.”
“Any excuse to play golf.” Lynn laughed.
“He’s an actor himself,” Steve said. “He’s done TV and movies.”
“He’s not getting much work these days,” Lynn said. “So he does his performing in real life.”
“I’ll call him,” Steve said.
******
Shortly after dinner Claire excused herself and went to bed. She fell asleep immediately but woke up later when moonlight beamed in through her window. She got up to go to the bathroom, following the glow of a nightlight down the dark hallway. On her way back to her room she glanced out the window and saw Lynn sitting alone on the patio hugging a bag of potato chips as if she were clutching a pillow. The moonlight was bright enough that Claire could see her dip her hand into the bag, pull out a chip, put it in her mouth. It was an automatic gesture, as if she was sleep-eating. Late-night eating would explain the weight gain. During the evening she had seemed content to Claire, but something had to be wrong to make her get up in the middle of the night to eat. Claire thought it would be an invasion of Lynn’s privacy to interrupt her, so she went back to bed.
When she woke again, it was morning. She dressed and went into the kitchen, where she found her hosts having a breakfast of dry toast and fruit.
“Did you sleep all right?” Lynn asked her.
“Fine. And you?”
“Very well,” Lynn said.
The little lies, Claire thought, that grease the engine of friendship. She helped herself to a slice of mango.
“I called Erwin and he’s coming over,” Steve said. “We’ll play some golf and let the two of you talk.”
******
Erwin arrived during coffee. From the kitchen window they could see him pull into the driveway. He drove the kind of oversized, overpriced SUV that made Claire think she’d need a tank for protection. The downside of the prosperity of the nineties was that everything—even the people—was getting oversized.
“He’s not as bad as he looks. He can be quite funny,” Lynn whispered to Claire as Steve let Erwin in.
He was a big man, in girth if not in height, with the kind of straight-backed posture Claire admired, but holding his back straight made his stomach protrude. Claire had the sensation he was the drummer in a marching band and his taut belly was the drum. Playing the part of a golfer, Erwin wore knickers and a navy blue shirt. His hair was slick and black and his complexion ruddy. He wasn’t good-looking enough to be a leading man, but he exuded a certain vitality. Claire supposed he could qualify for character parts, although the uniqueness of his looks might limit the number of roles.
“How are you, Erwin?” Lynn asked.
“All the better for seeing you,” he replied, kissing her cheek. “And who is your lovely friend?” He turned toward Claire.
“Claire Reynier, Erwin Bush. We were sorority sisters at the U of A.”
“Miranda never mentioned you,” Erwin replied, taking Claire’s hand and holding it longer than seemed necessary. “She doesn’t much like to talk about her U of A days. She was treated very shabbily by that sorority, very, very shabbily. But as they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. Past hurts will be forgotten when she stars in her own TV series next fall.”
“What’s it about?” Claire asked.
“I can’t say.” He put his index finger to his lips. “Very hush-hush. Miranda is on location in Mexico. She and I communicate by cell phone and e-mail, but I will tell he
r that I met you. I’m sure she will be delighted. Are you from Arizona?”
“New Mexico. I was in Tucson for the funeral of my former mother-in-law,” Claire said.
“Don’t forget the death of Evelyn Martin,” Lynn added.
“And who is Evelyn Martin?” Erwin asked.
“Another sorority sister who traveled around the Southwest visiting her old friends and stealing from them,” Lynn said. “She was once Miranda’s roommate. She was found dead in a rental house in Santa Fe. A house that we all paid for. I forgot to ask what else she took from you,” she said to Claire. “Detective Amaral told me she stole something personal from each of us.”
“She took a signed first edition of Herman Melville’s The Confidence-Man,” Claire said.
“What did Evelyn take from—” she began to ask, but Lynn mouthed the word later, leaving Claire feeling that a half-formed sentence was dangling from her lip.
Erwin filled the void. “I once saw an off-Broadway production of The Confidence-Man. The show never made it to Broadway. It wasn’t a very good script or a very theatrical book. There was no hook. The playwright never got a fix on the character. Personally I don’t think Melville ever got a fix on him either.”
“It wasn’t his best book,” Claire agreed.
“My favorite was Moby-Dick,” Steve said.
“That’s everybody’s favorite,” Lynn said.
“Ready to play some golf?” Steve asked Erwin.
“Ready,” Erwin replied.
The men went off to play golf and the women sat on the terrace drinking coffee. Claire had an extra cup to rev herself up for the drive back to Albuquerque.
“Remember the time we were sitting here and a mother quail walked across the driveway with her babies tagging along behind her and the dad bringing up the rear?” Lynn asked.
Claire remembered. One of her joys in visiting Cave Creek was the wildlife. Over the years she had seen a coyote lope down Lynn’s driveway, a rattlesnake slither across the floor of the garage, a javelina snort through the garbage, a desert skunk with a plumed tail, numerous quail and several hawks. Wildlife visited Albuquerque, too, but it was rarely visible. At home Claire heard coyotes barking in the foothills, but she had never seen one.
The Confidence Woman Page 5