“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said. “Is this a bad time?”
“It’s always a bad time these days,” she said. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand, leaving a muddy smudge across her cheek. I reached into my bag and handed her a tissue.
“Thanks,” she said. She blew her nose. “I’m not always like this. I’ve been trying very hard to stay positive for Hank. But some days are worse than others.”
“My coming has probably made this one of those worse ones,” I said apologetically.
She nodded. “Honestly, yes, but I wanted to meet you. I’m glad you called. You were the last person to talk to my daughter. I’m told she never regained consciousness after the EMTs arrived.”
I swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in my throat. The last person to talk to Cassie? I’d never thought of it that way. If, God forbid, our roles were reversed, what would I want Lydia Taylor to tell me?
“I don’t think your daughter suffered,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. We weren’t friends, but we were both mothers. No greater bond necessary. “Everything happened within minutes. She couldn’t have been frightened or even known what was happening.”
“The police said you did CPR and tried to save her. Thank you for that.”
“I wish I could have…”
“I know. We all wish.”
Our eyes caught for a moment, and we both held them steady, motherly compassion passing between us. I still had my hand on her arm, and I gave it a small squeeze, then pulled back.
Finally, Lydia said, “Why don’t we go to the back patio so we can sit and talk. Or would you rather be inside?”
“No, this is lovely. I’m not an air-conditioner person. Even in Scottsdale.”
Lydia gave a small smile. “I’m with you. I might be the only person in Arizona who’s always cold.”
“You don’t have a lot of fat to protect you,” I said lightly.
Despite the ninety-degree heat, she folded her arms against her chest. It wasn’t just the slim frame that had left her unprotected. When she heard her daughter had been murdered, her blood must have run cold. And how do you ever warm up again after that?
We walked around the property, past stylized gardens, an expansive free-form swimming pool, and an immaculate clay tennis court. The entire back of the house, facing the mountains, was glass, making it almost impossible to tell where inside met outside. I followed Lydia up a few stairs to a shaded retreat with three Italianate modern seating clusters; a cooking area with brick-walled grill, spit, and Viking stove; and a side ell with a glass dining table that could probably accommodate twenty. Calling it a patio seemed a stretch. I couldn’t exactly picture sitting here and rocking in an L.L. Bean chair.
Lydia gestured for me to sit down, then opened a bamboo cabinet that turned out to be a well-disguised refrigerator.
“Water?” she asked.
“No thanks.”
“You have to stay hydrated in the desert,” she insisted. “I have Smart Water, Vitamin Water, Energy Water, and water collected from an underground spring in Patagonia and untouched by humans until you open the cap.”
I laughed. “Anything is fine.”
She handed me a bottle, then sat next to me.
“It’s just beautiful here,” I said, looking out to the mountains. “Have you lived here long?”
“I moved when Cassie was in college,” Lydia said. “My first husband—Cassie’s father—died when she was eight. I raised the girls myself.”
“Not easy,” I said, thinking of my own mother, who had struggled valiantly as a single parent. She worked all the time, and I rarely saw her sleep. Money had been short for us, though maybe not for Lydia.
“Hank and I had known each other for years, long before he became so…” She paused, letting the dirty word wealthy pass unsaid. “We got married when Cassie was sixteen. I tried to keep life as normal as possible. Once both girls got to college, I didn’t feel guilty about moving. But maybe it was a mistake.”
“Why?”
She gestured to the opulent surroundings. “The girls and I lived simply in California. When Cassie started getting involved with Roger, I didn’t like it. Maybe Hank and I set the wrong example. But for me, it was never about the money.”
“Was it for Cassie?”
Lydia shook her head. “She thought she loved Roger. We had a fight when I told her she really loved having a father figure. Roger was too old for her. He bossed her around, told her what to do. In some odd way, I think she associated that with what a father should be. Remember, she never really had one.”
“Did they argue about money?”
“Not as far as I know. She’d always been frugal and self-sufficient. She signed a prenup.”
“You know your own child,” I said softly. “Did she seem happy with Roger?”
“I’ve thought about that a lot.” Lydia looked down and brushed some dirt off her pants. “Her boyfriend before Roger didn’t stack up as a mother’s dream. But I liked him. Cassie always seemed happy around him.”
“Billy Mann?” I asked.
She nodded, and another flash of pain darkened her face. So she already knew.
I took a deep breath.
“Your daughter left Billy some money, as you probably heard.”
She nodded. “We’d discussed it. The lawyer who drafted the prenup insisted on a will, but he must have been surprised when Cassie decided she wouldn’t leave everything to Roger.” Lydia gave a rough-edged laugh. “Roger doesn’t need money and neither do we. Cassie cared about doing good with whatever she had.”
“How did Billy figure in?”
“You don’t know?” She glanced at me. “His younger brother is disabled. Ren, I think his name is. Wheelchair-bound. Billy’s always been really good to him and Cassie loved that. Nothing better than a tattooed biker with a heart of gold.”
How about a tattooed biker with a heart of gold and a twenty-carat yellow diamond?
“Did she give Billy any gifts”—I couldn’t bring myself to say while she was still alive so I concluded, lamely—“before?”
Lydia didn’t seem to notice. “Cassie and Roger gave him the boat where he lived.”
And where he died. I shuddered, remembering the gory scene.
“Roger had owned the boat for years, paying for it to sit in drydock,” Lydia continued. “He kept getting bigger ones and couldn’t be bothered with selling his little starter. Cassie had the idea of giving it to Billy. He moved onto it and he brought his brother along all the time. Ren loved the freedom of being on the water.”
“Roger didn’t mind giving a gift to Cassie’s old boyfriend?”
Lydia smiled. “I don’t think he felt threatened, if that’s what you mean.”
But if Cassie had spent a night on the boat maybe he’d want revenge. In the form of a bullet through the back.
“Do you know anything about Cassie giving Billy a diamond?” I asked.
“No. Nothing. I can’t imagine why she would.” Lydia wrinkled her forehead—something not many could do in the age of Botox. Then, making sure I had the right impression, Lydia added, “My Cassie cared about people. She loved Roger—at least when she married him. She wanted to help Billy. Really, that’s all.”
I rubbed my temples, feeling my head starting to pound. Either desert dehydration had set in or all my detecting had depleted my neurons. If only that Smart Water could give me a few more IQ points.
I started to ask another question about the diamond, but Lydia sat back and tugged at the brim of her hat, shading her red-rimmed eyes. Talking about her lost child had left her drained. Off in the distance, the desert sun glanced off the craggy-faced mountains. The red rocks cast a rosy glow that seemed wrong for our mood. I thought of my last brush with Arizona landscape.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I said, looking off at the weathered peaks. “I know some people who’ve tried to reproduce the whole scene in LA. Something ab
out creating energy fields with those red rocks.”
Lydia gave a wan smile. “Does that mean you’ve encountered Andy Daniels?”
At hearing his name, my mouth dropped open. I made an effort to close it. “Yes. You know him?”
“His parents are old family friends of ours. They have a place in Sedona. Cassie used the connection to get her first job.”
“Oh.” A couple of cogs seemed to fall into place: how Cassie got the job at Genius Productions—and even more, why she would have left. The fact that Andy was an old family friend put his one-night romp in a different light. No wonder Andy had been mortified and Cassie had quit.
Lydia stood up and I realized the visit had ended. She walked with me back toward my car, but now the opulent home and spectacular setting didn’t seem to matter. Could there be any greater proof that money couldn’t buy happiness? My thoughts flashed to my own three children, and I felt an almost physical yearning to hug them. How much precious time did parents waste griping about their kids’ missed curfews or loud music? Lydia had the painful perspective of knowing one should be grateful for every glorious (and not-so-glorious) moment together.
“I miss Cassie so much,” Lydia said softly, staring off at her garden as we strolled. “She never really lived here, but the house seems empty without her. I just want to talk to her one more time. However inane it sounds, I’d trade everything I own just to have another day together.”
“Not inane,” I said fervently. “What mother wouldn’t feel the same?”
“Thank you for understanding,” Lydia said. Then she smiled wanly. “Unfortunately, nobody’s offering me the trade.”
“How is your other daughter doing?” I asked.
“It’s hard to know. She has a good job. Friends. She lives in New York.” Lydia shook her head. “People always say to me, ‘At least you still have her.’ True enough. But it’s like losing both legs and being glad you still have your arms. You try.”
I shuddered. The woman had lost her first husband, and then her daughter. Amazing she could still stand. Maybe we all possessed greater strength than we knew.
As if reading my thoughts, Lydia said, “The first loss was hard, but this has been devastating. Cassie looked just like her dad. When she’d smile, I’d see him. Now it’s like losing him all over again. My beautiful daughter. My husband. Both their faces, gone forever.”
I nodded dumbly. Any words of comfort seemed inadequate. Remind her of happy memories and the faces in photo albums? Convey how lucky she was to have Hank? At least in the midst of this deepest grief, she wasn’t alone. Hank was no doubt a strong shoulder to lean on, but husbands weren’t interchangeable, either.
“I’d like to ask you one more thing,” Lydia said as we approached the Lexus. “I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but did Cassie have any…final words?”
For a moment, I pictured Cassie on top of the ladder in the study, her arms spread wide. Like an angel, I’d thought. But a moment later she’d been on the floor bleeding. If only I could say what Lydia yearned to hear. That Cassie had murmured, Tell my mother I love her. Or that she’d whispered, I’ve had a happy life.
“She lost consciousness very quickly,” I said. “She didn’t have time for any messages.”
“I know she fell from a ladder.”
“I think she’d climbed up looking for something. The last thing I remember her saying was ‘Delta.’” I paused, but Lydia’s face didn’t change. “Does that mean anything to you?”
She shook her head. “I’d like to think so,” she said sadly. “But honestly it doesn’t.”
Chapter Fifteen
Delta.
I drove away, the word ringing in my head. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to Cassie’s mother, but it meant something to me.
Why hadn’t I made the connection?
I sped a little too quickly up the elegant entryway to the Phoenician, swerving around some walkers out enjoying the sunny day. I left the car with the attendant and ran to our room—but Dan hadn’t come back. His golf game must have ended by now, so I raced back through the hotel and out the back door, past one very well-tended field for croquet and another for lawn bowling. Slightly breathless, I got to a pool surrounded by lounge chairs. I didn’t see Dan among the sunbathers sipping icy drinks, so I went across a bridge and down some stairs to another deck and pool.
Dan stood contemplating a shallow pond stocked with large, brightly colored koi. He still had on a golf shirt, but he’d changed to shorts and sandals.
“You had it right,” I said, sidling up next to him.
He turned away from the fish and looked at me. “Hi, honey. Had what right?” he asked.
“Why Grant got asked to join Delta ij,” I said, too wound up to bother with hello. “To me, our son is perfect, so any secret society should want him. But as you pointed out, he’s a high schooler. Not a cool choice. Someone in the organization is trying to get information from him. Or from me.”
Dan tapped his foot slowly. “What brought you around?”
“You, darling. I trust your instincts.”
Dan gave a small smile. His concern hadn’t melted on the back nine, but he seemed mollified now. Telling your husband he’s right does that. I leaned my head briefly against his shoulder. In the pond just beneath us, more fish gathered, their mouths open, hoping for crumbs. Smart little critters. They knew that people standing above them meant food. Or at least it usually did. I wished I had something to throw them. Too bad they had to learn the human lesson that nothing in life was certain.
“Cassie’s mother asked me if her daughter had any last words,” I said. “I’m sure she hoped for something like, ‘Tell my mom I love her.’ Unfortunately, I didn’t have anything like that to offer her.”
“But you wanted to,” Dan said sympathetically, knowing me well.
I nodded. “I doubt Cassie knew she’d die, or who knows what she might have said. But I suddenly had an image of her standing on the ladder and saying ‘Delta.’” I paused for dramatic effect. “Delta,” I repeated.
Dan didn’t take the bait. “What did you think it meant at the time?” he asked.
“I didn’t think about it,” I said with a shrug. “I figured she’d started climbing out of sheer delirium. But the other day, her friend Paige told me they’d gone to the penthouse the night before so Cassie could stash some papers. Paige thought they had to do with the divorce. But maybe they were about Delta ij. So on the ladder, Cassie sent a final message after all.”
Dan rubbed my shoulder, sensing my building tension.
“It’s possible, but maybe ‘Delta’ meant something else. Weren’t you in some Delta sorority?”
“Tri Delta,” I reminded him.
“Which is where you met Molly, isn’t it?” Dan asked. When I nodded, he said, “Maybe that’s the connection.”
“Cassie’s been poisoned and she talks about her sorority? Why?”
“Maybe she thought a sorority sister had done the poisoning,” he said mildly. “Molly. Tri Delta. Delta. It adds up.”
I felt myself freeze. Delta? Molly? Could that really be what Cassie meant? No matter what I wanted to think, I had to look at the evidence. The night before Cassie died, Paige had seen Molly and Roger in the penthouse, arms around each other. Molly had never mentioned the visit. Deception by omission. What else might she have lied about?
I shook my head. No way I could let myself doubt my best friend.
“You never liked Molly,” I said petulantly.
“She’s your friend and she means a lot to you,” Dan said. “But I’m just trying to be realistic.”
Could you ever be realistic about the person who got you through the toughest times? Molly had won my loyalty forever when Ashley was born, but she’d shown her good heart long before. During my freshman year in college, my father—the abusive man my mother left when I turned two—died. Mom sounded almost relieved when she called to tell me, but the news hit me like a sledgehammer. I didn’t
remember him and never expected a reconciliation, but every little girl wants a daddy to take care of her, and now the finality hit me. I’d never have one. Molly had stayed up with me all night as I cried for what might have been. She held me tightly, never once questioning my pain. That night, I felt like she was the only person in the whole world who understood me.
You don’t forget that.
“You were the one who made me think about Grant and Delta ij,” I said to Dan now, feeling slightly confused. “Why are you twisting it now?”
“I’m not. I’m just trying to make sure we don’t diagnose a zebra.”
We’d been married long enough that I understood the reference. An old adage in medicine held that when you heard hooves, you should think horses, not zebras. In other words, a headache might be a brain tumor—but it was probably just a headache. Go for what was most likely.
“So Molly’s your metaphoric horse?”
“You tell me,” Dan said quietly.
“The first hooves you heard said Delta ij. I don’t know how the group connects to Cassie, but we better find out. Especially if Grant’s gotten involved.”
Dan threw up an arm as if giving in, and at the gesture half a dozen fish leapt to the surface, their mouths open in wide O s. Misled again.
He turned away from the pond. “Since there’s nothing we can do right now, we should just relax,” he said, ever able to compartmentalize his emotions. “Should we change and take a dip?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really feel like swimming.”
“Get something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then put his arms around me. “Nothing’s going to make my Lacy happy right now,” he said, knowing me well.
“But I’m happy. Very happy.” I gave my best fake grin.
“You’re a lousy liar.” He kissed me gently. “Do you want to leave?”
I sighed and leaned into him, burying my face in his chest. “Yes, I want to go home. I want to solve this case. But I dragged you to Phoenix, and you deserve a rest. It’s not fair to get you back on a plane this afternoon.”
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