“No to both questions. I’m too independent, I guess.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I know what you mean.”
“So tell me, how much did you know about the actual workings of Elizabeth’s law practice? Did she confide in you?”
Her eyes shifted down toward her food, and she took another bite of her potato, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Some,” she said.
“Can you think of any reason that would cause her to disappear like she did?”
“You want to know how many hours I’ve thought that one over? I wish I did. You know, it was crazy. The way she did it, I mean. She’d been working along as usual and then suddenly one day she was gone. She left Robert. She left the girls. I couldn’t believe it. How could she have done it?”
“Do you know what she was working on at the time?”
“Some criminal, some divorce. You know, the usual kind of stuff. No, she was probably doing more criminal than usual. She’d got a lot of criminal court appointments in the months just before that, and Vernon was doing a whole lot of criminal work—more than Elizabeth ever wanted them to take in.”
“Did they have any disagreements that you know of?”
“You mean, did she and Vern fight about it?”
I nodded. “Yes. Did they get along?”
“Elizabeth wasn’t a fighter; she was a talker. She had talked Vernon Spencer into coming up here to work with the inner city youth and the poor. She told him that they could do other things, but that the little people of Fort Worth needed someone to be on their side. She promised him that there would be a lot of time left over for making money as well.”
“So how did it actually work out?”
“I think he came because he was black.” She slurped at her lemonade. “Not because he wanted to help the blacks, you understand, but because there aren’t many opportunities for black lawyers. I mean, they can make, what do you call it, law review and stuff like that; they can excel in law school, win oratory awards, and all that stuff, but the big firms with the big money still aren’t going to hire them because of their race.
“Vern wasn’t any different, and I think he did excel. So did Elizabeth, but she wasn’t interested in making the really big bucks; she just wanted to make a comfortable living, which she did—they both did—and she wanted to help the people she grew up around.”
“That’s what I heard the other day,” I said.
“Yeah? From who, Robert?”
“The Newbolds.”
“Those old people that own the drugstore. I’ve met them. They’re real sweet people.” She smiled across the table at me. “Anyway, I think that Vern and Elizabeth got to be friends and she persuaded him to come up here, made him a bunch of promises, but the money didn’t come in fast enough for him. He didn’t give a damn about the people; he didn’t grow up here. She told me that he was taking on more and more criminal work—making a big name for himself as a criminal attorney. She didn’t like that, because he was representing some of the same people that were committing crimes and dealing drugs right in that neighborhood.”
“So they weren’t getting along?” I was growing more and more confused. Who was telling the truth? Was Elizabeth into dope or wasn’t she? Did Vernon Spencer get rid of her, or didn’t he?
“No, but like I said, Elizabeth wouldn’t have had fights with him. As a matter of fact, I think she was just going to pull up stakes, leave him. She found out the hard way that she couldn’t save all those people by herself. She told me, and this was not too long before she disappeared, that she was talking with some large law firm that did personal injury. She was thinking of going to work for them if they’d let her continue to do a few hours work each week for her people.”
“You couldn’t give me the name of that firm, could you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Tammy might know, or else Robert.”
“Tammy Bradley? Her secretary?”
“Yeah. Why, do you know her?”
“No, but I’m supposed to have lunch with her tomorrow.”
“They were pretty tight, Mavis, but if she knows anything about why Elizabeth left, she’s not telling. Everybody, and I mean everybody, quizzed her about it.”
“Why isn’t she working for Spencer anymore, do you know?”
“Not really. They didn’t get along, I know that. He’s a real moody kind of person, and I don’t think she could take the pressure, but I don’t know if that’s why she left.”
“I wonder if she’s ever confided in Robert.”
“Why would she do that?” Her face got an odd look on it, like she was alarmed. “I don’t think so, he’d have told me.”
“You and he are pretty close, aren’t you?” I watched as she sat up straighter.
“Why do you say that?”
“Vernon Spencer said that. I didn’t.”
“We’re friends, that’s all.” Suddenly the bubbliness was gone, and her eyes got a veiled look. The skin on her face grew taut. “I’m like a surrogate mother to the girls. Shoot, since Elizabeth became a lawyer, I’ve probably been more of a mother to them than she ever was. For the last year I’ve been the only mother they’ve known, the only female role model in their lives. You can’t count Mrs. Newbold. She mostly just calls them on the phone.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you, Madge. I have to follow up on everything I’m told.”
“What else did Vern say? Did he tell you that I’m over at Robert’s house every day? Did he tell you that I cook for them a lot and clean and help out any way I can? That bastard! He’s just trying to make trouble, that’s all. The most he did for Robert was send a few dollars. Where was he when Robert and Catherine and Anne needed someone to lean on?”
I quickly changed the subject. “Mr. Reynolds tells me that you just got back from vacation, that you took a cruise.”
“So?” She really had her back up.
“So how was it? I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise ship. Where all did you go?”
She looked at me before answering, a funny little glint in her eye. Then she relaxed and everything seemed to be all right again.
“It was great. We saved all year to go. We flew to Miami and then caught the ship. Some days were spent at sea, but we stopped at Cancun, Cozumel, Grand Cayman, and then this private island. There was a beach party there. I got sunburned as you can see.” She was laughing again. Everything was fine.
“Did you go snorkeling?”
“Yeah. They have this team of guys that take you. Some of them were real hunks, too. We got to see a sunken airplane. I think that was in Cozumel. I didn’t stay the whole time because I wanted to go shopping.”
“It sounds really wonderful. I’m dying to go on one. What cruise line was it?”
“N.C.L. Norwegian. The captain had the greatest accent.” She laughed.
“So you’d recommend it, huh?”
“You bet. The worst thing about it was that it was too short. You don’t get to stay in any one port of call more than a day, but I tell you, they treat you like royalty on the ship. You can eat all you want, and work out, and get a massage, and lay in the sun, and they’ll bring the drinks right to you.”
“Boy, it sounds great. Were there a lot of single guys? I have a friend that wants to go on one, but she wants to meet guys.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty-four, why?”
“’Cuz there’s lots of young guys, but no one around our age. Tell her if she goes, to go for the fun of the cruise, not to look for guys. Unfortunately, most of the people our age were married.”
“Well, I’d still like to go. Maybe I could save up for it, too.”
“Look, Mavis. I’ve got to get back. If there’s anything else I can tell you, call me, okay? And I’m sorry I got mad. Vern can get to me, you know?”
I nodded, and stood up with her. She held out her hand, and I was hesitant to take it, but I did. No bones cracked, but I expected to see bruises the nex
t day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After Madge left, I found a phone book, got the address of the Candleglow Inn, then stopped back by the courthouse to see Doyle Proctor again. He still wasn’t there, so I drove out to Arlington.
The Candleglow Inn was a run-down little restaurant which, I discovered later, was lit only with candles. I wondered if the food was so questionable that the management didn’t want the customers to be able to see it clearly.
I waited outside in the near-vacant parking lot until Catherine came tearing up in her car. She waved at me and shut off the engine. She was dressed in slacks and a couple of layers of shirts belted at the waist, as was the style for kids other than Candy.
Catherine requested a corner booth and ordered a couple of beers for us. I must have shown mild surprise because she explained that it was one of the few places that didn’t check ID cards when the drinking age in Texas was moved back up to twenty-one.
I studied the girl while we waited for our beers. She was nervous and fidgeted with the place mat, her dark-blue eyes casting about for some place to rest. The candlelight cast a warm glow on her face that only emphasized her youth. She wore almost no makeup that day; her complexion clear and smooth, there was nothing for her to cover up.
When the waitress brought the frosted mugs, I took a big gulp and smiled at Catherine. I wanted her to be at ease, to trust me. I knew it must have taken a lot of courage for her to call me.
“So how was school today?” I asked as I lit a cigarette and tried to strike an informal posture in the booth.
“The same,” she answered, her eyes still flitting from place to place. “We’re checking in books, getting ready for finals.”
“Are you excited about graduation? I bet you wish your mother could have been here for it.”
Her eyes stopped, resting on mine. She spoke hesitantly. “How much do you know, Miss Davis?”
“Mavis. And I don’t know nearly as much as I need to.”
“You’ve read my letters?”
“Two of them. Where did you send them?” I tried to be serious and calm, so I wouldn’t scare her off.
“Care of general delivery in Dickinson.”
I nodded. It made sense. It was near the bank, but far enough away from the cafe that no one would know.
“She called me a couple of weeks after she’d gone and told me where to write. She said she hated that she’d had to leave that way, but that it was for our protection, and it couldn’t be any other way.” Catherine’s mouth turned down grimly.
“Did she tell you why she had to leave, Catherine?”
She shook her head slowly from side to side. “She wouldn’t. I tried. I asked her many times, but she said I’d be in danger if I knew the reason. She said she’d come back when it was safe, but she didn’t know when that would be.” She took a swallow of her beer, and then choked on it, as if she couldn’t get it past a lump in her throat.
I waited for her to quit coughing and then prodded further. “Did she write to you, too?”
“No. I’d write her every week or every two weeks, and she’d call me once a month usually. It would always be on a Monday, so every Monday I’d wait by the phone after school before Dad came home. If she didn’t call by four-thirty, I’d know she wasn’t going to.”
“She never spoke to your dad?”
“No, and I didn’t tell him about the calls either. She made me promise. She said if I told Dad or Anne or anyone else, that she’d stop. She told me once that she felt real guilty even calling me, but that she couldn’t help it, that she had to have some contact with us. I was always real good at keeping secrets, Mavis, and Mom knew that. Besides, we were real close. We always have been. Before she left, when she was working all those long hours after she and Vernon went into business together, I would call her when I got home from school and we’d talk. Even if she had a client-in her office, she’d stop what she was doing, and we’d talk for five or ten minutes.”
I shook my head at her. “It doesn’t make sense to me that she wouldn’t talk to your father.”
“I know. I thought she was afraid of him at first, though I couldn’t figure out why. They never fought, and I thought she really loved him. I tried to get her to talk to him, but I think she couldn’t bear it, you know? Like he’d try to talk her into coming home—and she always insisted that she couldn’t come home until her problem was solved.”
“Surely in all this time she said something to you to indicate what this was all about?”
Catherine shook her head again. “No. She didn’t. I swear. Every time I’d ask her, she’d say she couldn’t tell me. I’ve thought and thought about it. The only thing she ever said, and I was hoping that you could make something out of this, was that she had some protection and until she could figure out what to do with it, she’d have to stay away.”
Boy, what a mess. I studied Catherine’s face while I thought about it. The waitress came and I ordered two more beers.
“Did she ever indicate if anyone else knew about this protection?”
“No. I’m sorry. I want to help, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Wait—yes. One time she said that she thought help wasn’t far away. That’s why I thought she’d be able to come home soon.”
“But she didn’t say who it was?” I asked.
“Uh-uh. Not even a hint.” She watched me while she took another sip.
“She didn’t mention Vernon Spencer or Madge Hennesey?”
Again she shook her head. “Not except to ask how they were.”
“What do you know about Vernon Spencer, Catherine?”
The girl stared at me and her eyes took on a more serious cast. “Now that you mention it, Mavis, not much. He started coming around in Austin when I was younger. He and Mom would study together. He was very poor. I heard him once talk about how rich we were compared to his family, when I didn’t think we had anything at all. Mom wouldn’t buy me a lot of the things I wanted back then.” She glanced down at the table. “She said we couldn’t afford it.”
“You never overheard Spencer talking about his personal life or anything like that?” It occurred to me that I knew very little about the man, or for that matter, Madge, either.
She shook her head. “Just joking about how he couldn’t wait to get out of law school and start making lots of money.”
Well, it appeared he’d met his goal. “Did he ever bring any girls over?”
“Nope. Not in Austin or here.”
“What about his family. Where’s he from?”
She shrugged.
“Was he just secretive?”
“I don’t know. Mom probably knew a lot more about him than we did.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Only we can’t ask your mom.”
Catherine sighed.
“What about Madge? What are your first memories of her?”
“I was around five or six, I think. She came to dinner. Before that I heard Mom telling Daddy about her.”
“Did you like her then?”
She gave me an odd look. “Yeah, I guess I did. She’s always been real sweet to me. Overly sweet—gushy—at times. She’d pinch my cheek and tell me how cute I was.”
“I know what you mean. I have a hard time with people like that sometimes, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she said and smiled. “A real hard time.”
“You know anything about her personal life—where she’s from or what her husbands were like?”
Catherine’s brow wrinkled. “Grand Prairie, I think. Yeah, she went to a class reunion there. And yes, I met Roger when I was little. He always smelled bad and he would hug me. Yuck.”
“What about the second one, Joel?”
“I never met him. Mother didn’t either, but she hated him for making Madge lose the baby.”
Madge must have “overlooked” telling me about the baby. I’m afraid I didn’t disguise my surprise very well.
“No one told you about Madge losing her baby?” Catheri
ne asked in response to, I’m sure, the bizarre expression on my face.
“I guess no one thought it was important,” I said.
“Well, it was a long time ago. While we lived in Austin.”
“I’m surprised you remember it then.”
“I was thirteen, I think. Madge came down to see us when she was showing. She was probably four-or five-months pregnant.”
“Oh.”
“The next time, though, she wasn’t pregnant and didn’t have a baby with her, so I asked Mom.”
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