V is for Vengeance

by Sue Grafton

“Not at all. She was casual. Completely matter-of-fact. So much so, I thought I must be seeing things. I stepped to one side and looked through a rack of house robes so I could keep an eye on her. She moved to another table and while she was sorting through the items on display, I saw her palm a teddy—”

  “What’s that?”

  “A one-piece lacy undergarment with built-in bra and panties. She gathered it with her fingers and slipped it in her purse. I went to the nearest register and reported her to the clerk, who notified security. A couple of minutes later, the loss-prevention officer came into the department and stopped to chat with the saleswoman, whose name is Claudia Rines. She happens to be an acquaintance.”

  “In what respect?”

  “Strictly casual. I see her occasionally at Rosie’s, the tavern down the street from my place. Claudia was the one who filled me in on what happened later, which I’ll get to in a bit.”

  Marvin had dropped his head and he was shaking it.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Don’t mind me. Go on with your story. I’m having a hard time, but what else is new? So this loss-prevention guy comes into the department and then what?”

  “Audrey seemed to sense she was the subject of conversation, and she left the lingerie department and went across the aisle to the ladies plus-size department. The loss-prevention officer sent Claudia down to the second floor in case she tried to leave on the escalator.”

  That apparently sparked his recollection because he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Yeah, yeah. I remember now what she told me and here’s the deal. She had no idea why he stopped her. She wanted to be cooperative so she did what he said. She was mortified when she realized she had the stuff in her shopping bag. Because okay, she’d picked up a few things, but she decided to put ’em back. You know how it is. What do you call it, buyer’s remorse. Anyway, she was thinking of something else and it slipped her mind. She said it was a simple oversight that got blown out of proportion. It was stupid of her. She admitted that.”

  I was already shaking my head. “Don’t think so. Uhn-un. I’m not buying it.”

  “I’m just telling you what she said.”

  “I understand that, Marvin, but my guess is there’s more going on. I was a police officer for two years and I dealt with situations like this. People will tell you anything to get themselves off the hook. This wasn’t ‘a simple oversight.’ She was working with someone else, a younger woman who was stealing items from the same department.”

  His expression was pained and I could see his resistance surface. “What, like she and this other woman were confederates?”

  “That was my take on it. Audrey headed for the escalator and just as she reached the top, the woman she’d been talking with earlier came out of the ladies’ room. The two locked eyes and something flashed between them, one of those unspoken communications that happen when people know each other well. The younger woman turned around and went back to the ladies’ room.”

  “Well, there’s concrete proof,” he said, snidely.

  “You want to listen to me or not?”

  “Describe the woman.”

  “Forties, messy shoulder-length blond hair, no makeup. She had a little scar across here, between her chin and her lower lip.”

  “Doesn’t sound like anyone I know. Isn’t it possible you misunderstood what was going on?”

  “No.”

  “No doubt in your mind?”

  “None.”

  “What makes you so sure? From what you’ve said, you never saw these two women before in your life. Now suddenly you have them engaged in a criminal conspiracy. I’m not arguing the point. I want to know the basis for your belief.”

  “How about training and experience? The last ten years, I’ve made a living dealing with crime and criminals. It’s how I earn my keep.”

  “On the other hand, you’re so used to looking for bad guys, maybe that’s what you see regardless.”

  “You know something? I’m not sure it’s smart to talk about this right now. You have a lot to absorb and you’re still in shock. Maybe it’s better if we wait until you’ve had time to adjust.”

  “Skip that. I’m fine. I’m never going to adjust so please go on. Let’s get this out in the open so I know what I’m dealing with.”

  “Okay,” I said, infusing the word with skepticism.

  “Okay. So now Audrey’s on the escalator and then what?”

  “She set off the alarm as she left the store. The loss-prevention officer detained her just outside the door. Claudia Rines was with him when he took Audrey to the ground-floor Security offices. Once Audrey opened her bag and the stolen goods came to light, she tried to talk her way out of it. When that failed, she got hysterical.”

  “Well, think how she must have felt, ashamed and humiliated. When I picked her up, she was so upset she was shaking from head to toe and her hands were like ice. Once we got home, we had a couple of drinks and she calmed down some, but she was still a mess.”

  “Doesn’t that lend support to the idea she jumped? If she was that stressed out …”

  “No. Not so. Didn’t happen that way.”

  “Which puts us back where we started. So now it’s my turn to ask you, how can you be so sure?”

  “You didn’t know Audrey. I did. And don’t be snotty with me, young lady.”

  “Sorry. That wasn’t my intent,” I said. I thought about what he’d said, wondering if there was another approach. “Tell me about the arrest. What was she charged with?”

  “She wouldn’t talk about it and I didn’t press. She was already beside herself, so instead of dwelling on the bad stuff, I tried reassuring her. I said she’d be fine. We’d hire an attorney and he’d take care of it. I even told her the guy’s name and said I’d call that night, but she said no.”

  “And when the police notified you they’d found her, what else did they say?”

  He shook his head. “Not much. I could see they were trying to be kind, but they were real tight-lipped, like I wasn’t entitled. Granted, we weren’t married, but I was engaged to the woman, and they treated me like a stranger walking in off the street. They wouldn’t have given me the time of day if I hadn’t filed a police report on Saturday.”

  “You filed a missing-person’s report the day before?”

  “It wasn’t anything official because they didn’t take me all that seriously. I expressed my concern and they took down the information, but it’s not like they put out any kind of bulletin. They said under the circumstances, they had no reason to.”

  “Is that how they knew to get in touch with you after she was found?”

  “Sure. Otherwise, I’d still be in the dark and going out of my mind. Thankfully, some bright soul put the name on the report together with the information in her purse. Her driver’s license showed a previous address, little place she rented in San Luis Obispo. The police detective contacted the north county sheriff’s department and asked ’em to send a deputy to the house. Of course, the place was all buttoned up because she’d moved in with me. She’d left most of her stuff behind except for the bare necessities. She was holding off on the change of address until we were married and then she’d take care of everything at once—you know, name change, new address, and such.”

  San Luis Obispo, an hour and a half north, is variously referred to as San Luis, S.L.O., or SLO-town. “Your daughter didn’t seem to realize you were getting married.”

  “We were keeping it under wraps. She was worried the girls would be upset so we hadn’t said anything about it.”

  “What made you file the report in the first place?”

  “I had to do something and that was the only thing I could think of. Audrey was punctual. That was her nature. Saturday morning, she went off to get her hair done as usual. I wanted her to cancel, but she started getting upset again so I backed down.

  “We had a date at one and she said she’d be home by then. She didn’t show up, which for her was un
thinkable. Even five minutes late, she’d call and say where she was. She wouldn’t leave me hanging. Never in a million years.”

  “You had a date to do what?”

  “We were going out with this real estate agent friend of hers to look at houses. That’s another reason I can’t believe she’d, you know, do herself in. She was excited. She’d found some listings in the paper and Felicia, her agent friend, set up appointments to show us five or six properties. One fifteen, one thirty—no sign of Audrey and no call, so I let Felicia get on with her day, figuring she had better things to do. By three, I was down at the police station, talking to the guy at the desk.”

  “Did you think she was sick, she’d been in an accident, or what?”

  “I just knew it was bad.”

  I shifted the subject. “How long had you known her?”

  He waved as though fanning gnats away from his face. “You talked to Sabrina. She said she ran into you at the funeral home so I know where you’re going with this. The answer is seven months, give or take, which might seem hasty to some. I’m still in the house my wife and I bought back in 1953. Audrey was okay with it, but once we started getting serious, I felt like we should have a place of our own. My girls thought I was out of my mind.”

  “What sort of work did she do?”

  He shrugged. “She was in sales just like me so she traveled a lot. Maybe two and a half, three weeks out of every month. She’d put over three hundred thousand miles on her 1987 Honda. She was always on the road, which was a bit of a sore point with me. I was hoping she’d settle down. I figured a house of her own might be encouragement.”

  “What kind of sales?”

  “I’m not sure. She didn’t talk about her job. I got the impression it was soft goods. You know, clothing or something of the sort.”

  I was thinking for “soft goods” we could substitute the notion of teddies and silk pajamas, but I kept my mouth shut. “What company?”

  “No idea. She worked on commission so she was more like an independent contractor than a nine-to-five type.”

  “What about you?”

  “My job? I was a John Deere factory rep. I took early retirement. I worked like a dog all my life and there were things I wanted to do while I still had my health.”

  “How’d the two of you meet?”

  “There’s a bar in my neighborhood; a Cheers type of place, like the television show. She was there one night and so was I.”

  “You were introduced by friends?”

  “Not really. We struck up a conversation. I’m a widower. My wife died a year ago and I was at loose ends. My girls were scandalized when I took up with Audrey, which is a laugh and a half. I had to remind them what I put up with when they were young. They’d be out until all hours, coming in drunk. The guys they dated were losers—scruffy and unemployed. Not that they stuck around for long. There was a constant turnover of bozos. I told ’em they had no business getting on my case.

  “Audrey’s the first woman I dated since their mother died. The only woman, I might add. Margaret was the love of my life, but she’s dead now and I’m not. I’m not going to be a recluse just to satisfy the girls’ sudden sense of decorum. To hell with that. I’m sure Sabrina gave you an earful.”

  “She told me you couldn’t find contact numbers for Audrey’s two kids. Have they been in touch?”

  “No, and I’m sick about it. I went through everything—desk, chest of drawers, overnight bag. No address book, no letters, or any other reference to them.”

  “What about the house in San Luis Obispo? Maybe she kept her address book there.”

  “Possibly. I should probably drive up, but I’m chicken. I’ve never even seen the place and I can’t walk in when I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Right. For all you know, she has a husband and kids.”

  “Jeez. Don’t say that.”

  “I was being a smart-ass. Don’t listen to me,” I said. “What about her background? Did she talk at all about where she was from?”

  “Chicago originally, but she’d lived all over the place.”

  “Have you tried directory assistance in the Chicago area?”

  “Big waste of time. I gave it a try, but there are hundreds of people with the last name Vance. I don’t know if she was talking about the city itself or a suburb. Her parents were dead. This was years ago, I guess. She told me her kids worked in San Francisco, which I had no reason to doubt. She said her daughter was married. I don’t know if she kept her maiden name or took his. There isn’t a Don Vance in the book, but maybe his number’s unlisted. Doesn’t mean he isn’t there.”

  “What about her past? Most people tell stories. She might have dropped bits and pieces that would help you work your way back.”

  “She didn’t talk about herself. She didn’t like to be the center of attention. At the time, it didn’t seem important. I just figured she was shy.”

  “Shy? The obituary said she was ‘fun-loving and vivacious.’”

  “She was. Everybody loved her. She was interested in other people. You turn the subject back on her and she’d blow you off, like her life wasn’t worth talking about.”

  “So in essence, you know nothing.”

  “Well, yeah, and how embarrassing is that? You think you’re close and then something like this comes up. Turns out you don’t know shit.”

  “If you know so little about her, what makes you so sure she didn’t kill herself? Maybe she was mentally ill. She might have spent the last two years in a looney bin. Maybe that’s why she wouldn’t talk about herself.”

  “No. Absolutely not. She wasn’t nuts and she wasn’t depressed. Far from it. She had a sunny disposition. No mood swings, no PMS, no temper. Nothing like that. And she wasn’t on medication. A baby aspirin a day, but that’s about it,” he said. “You’d think the cops would be all over the case.”

  “Trust me, they are. They’re just not sharing anything with you.”

  “Tell me about it. I mean, shit. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

  “Go back to the police.”

  “Another big waste of time. I tried and got zip. I was hoping you’d talk to them. They’d treat you like a professional. I’m just a close personal friend with an ax to grind.”

  “Maybe so,” I said.

  “So let’s say I hire you, then what?”

  “Doesn’t that seem like a conflict of interest when I was responsible for her arrest? You’d think I’d be the last person in the world you’d hire to do anything.”

  “But at least you were there and know part of the story. I’d hate to have to sit down and explain it all to someone else. Besides, you can’t do any worse than me finding out what’s going on.”

  “You have a point.” I turned the subject over in my mind, looking for a starting place. “It would help if we knew what she was charged with and if she had a history of prior arrests.”

  Incredulously, he said, “You can’t be serious! You think she might have been picked up before?”

  “It’s entirely possible.”

  He hung his head in despair. “This is just going to get worse and worse, isn’t it?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  10

  NORA

  Wednesday morning, Nora stopped at the downtown branch of Wells Fargo Bank, where she kept a safe-deposit box. She signed in and showed her identification, then waited while the teller compared her signature to the one kept on file. She followed the woman into the vault. She and the teller each used their keys to unlock the compartment. The teller removed the box and placed it on the table. As soon as the teller stepped out, Nora opened the box. In addition to her passport, vital documents, gold coins, and the jewelry she’d inherited from her mother, she kept five thousand dollars in cash.

  She spread it all out on the table. In her handbag, she had the check for seven thousand dollars Maurice Berman had given her for the earrings and bracelet he’d bought. In the past, she’d sold min
or pieces of jewelry in order to have money to play the market. She’d opened a Schwab account and in the previous three years she’d made close to sixty thousand dollars in profit, ten of which she kept for emergency purposes, five at home and the other five at the bank. The rest of the money she reinvested. It was not a sum most traders would brag about, but she took a secret satisfaction knowing the proceeds were the result of her acumen. She tucked her passport in her handbag and returned the rest of the items to the box.

  Her portfolio was solid and diverse, weighted toward mutual funds. She had a few income-producing stocks and a handful of options she toyed with according to her mood. She’d avoided anything too risky, but maybe it was time to venture outside of her comfort zone. She wasn’t a financial whiz, by any means, but she was a devoted reader of the Wall Street Journal and an avid student of the ups and downs of the New York Stock Exchange. Since both she and Channing had been married before, they’d elected to keep their finances separate. Their pre-nup was straightforward: what was his was his, what was hers was hers. She used the same accounting firm, the same tax attorney, and the same financial planner she’d brought on board when her first marriage ended.

  Channing was aware she had investments, but the particulars were none of his business as far as she was concerned. She’d been foolish to approach him for the eight thousand, but she’d spotted an opportunity at a time when she didn’t have access to sufficient cash. While she’d been furious at Thelma’s interference, in hindsight she knew the woman had saved her from a hideous mistake. Nora regarded her capital as her sole and separate property. The courts might disagree. That was an issue for another day and one she might never have to face. Legal niceties aside, comingling funds could be disastrous.

  She left the bank and walked over to the Schwab offices, where she deposited the seven thousand dollars into her account.

  Money matters carried a sexual charge that lifted her spirits and gave her a jolt of self-confidence. She thought about the heft and feel of the seventy-five thousand that had fallen into her hands and out again in a matter of minutes on Monday. She’d given Dante the impression she was morally scrupulous when she was really afraid. Withholding information from Channing was fine in small doses. Playing the market made her feel secure, especially when it came to the cash she was stashing away. If she had to, she’d sell everything and add that money to the money she had on hand. Seventy-five thousand was too tempting a sum, as damning in its own way as her husband’s affair. When it came to keeping secrets, what was the difference between his taking a mistress and her hiding substantial assets? In truth, she was putting together funds in case she decided to leave. Seventy-five thousand in cash represented a door that had opened a crack. What she saw frightened her and she’d backed away.