A Denial of Death (6 page)

Charlene opened the door of her little bungalow just a crack, the security chain in place, while Helen explained, with slightly stretched truth, that she was a friend of Angie's. Charlene looked past Helen at the sports car in her driveway before inviting Helen and Jack inside.

Angie's sister didn't look any more like a killer than Ralph did. She was tall and thin, with the sort of face that, like Ralph's, was both appealing and interesting. She wore trendy jewelry with a silk blouse and a raw silk pants suit, which Helen thought was a little odd for a woman at home on her day off. It was the sort of outfit Helen had worn while presiding over the governor's mansion, so she knew the name of the designer and exactly what it would have cost five years ago when she'd had a substantial budget for such things. She couldn't imagine how a retail store manager could afford it, at least not without one heck of a large employee discount.

Helen's sister-in-law had worked in retail management for many years and had frequently complained about the tendency of top managers to burn out from all the stress and long hours. Charlene was Angie's older sister, in her mid-fifties, so she was old enough to have climbed the corporate ladder and received a few concussions on the glass ceiling, but she looked remarkably resilient and cheerful, not the least bit stressed. Maybe early August was a slow time of year for her, like it was for Ralph, so she was able to reinvigorate herself with some time off.

Helen followed Charlene through the entrance into the formal living room. Jack remained standing just inside the front door where he could peer across the hallway into the living room without having to risk brushing up against any of the obviously expensive furnishings and breakable glass sculptures on display. Helen settled on the edge of an over-sized, over-stuffed, and probably over-priced sofa that looked familiar enough that if she cared enough to do some research, she could identify its famous designer. The only thing in the room that didn't have a name brand attached to it was a beat-up, clunky old laptop resting on the coffee table.

Charlene leaned against a chair next to the fireplace, drawing Helen's attention to the collection of wavy, abstract, glass sculptures perched on the mantel. They were pretty but muted, without enough natural light to bring them to life.

Still, it was obvious Charlene was proud of them, and that gave Helen an opening to get to know Angie's sister better. "You have a lovely collection of glass sculptures."

Charlene smiled with obvious pride. "These? They're nothing, really. Collecting them is just my little hobby."

"Everyone needs a hobby." Helen couldn't help noticing how different the two sisters' pastimes were. Angie's preemie caps were warm and functional. Charlene's glass was cold and purely decorative. Angie made things, while Charlene collected them, but it didn't look as if Angie ever made anything for Charlene to collect. Everything in the living room was either a commercial product with a designer label, or, in the case of the glass, individually made but by a professional, probably one who was well known in the arts community. "I understand Angie is an excellent knitter. Do you have any of her work? An afghan or a pillow, maybe?"

"We have different tastes," Charlene said as she slid down into her chair. "What does Angie want from me now?"

"Nothing, as far as I know," Helen said. "I haven't actually met her yet. I'm more of a friend of a friend."

Charlene looked puzzled. "Then why are you here?"

"It's complicated." Helen realized she didn't even know what Angie looked like. If she looked anything like her sister, her beauty might help to explain why Ralph put up with her abrasive personality. She'd seen that sort of superficiality often enough in her years on the political circuit, where it was common for politicians to seek out spouses who looked good, regardless of their personality, and for professional spouses to seek out politicians who could provide status and wealth, regardless of their personality. Maybe Angie and Ralph had had that sort of mutually beneficial arrangement. "Do you have a picture of her?"

Charlene rose and went over to a built-in shelving unit where she had more art glass sculptures mixed in with an assortment of framed pictures. She selected one of the photographs and handed it to Helen. "This is the three of us on a day trip last year, for Angie's birthday."

In the picture Ralph and Charlene were standing next to each other in front of a grandiose hotel, smiling woodenly for the camera. They both had one hand on the shoulder of a short, chubby woman in front of them, like little kids unwilling to let go of a favorite toy. That woman had to be Angie.

If Helen hadn't known better, she would have assumed Ralph and Charlene were the married couple, and Angie was the odd sibling out. Ralph and Charlene were almost the same height and slender, with expensive haircuts and business casual clothes. Angie was shorter and rounder than they were, her frizzy salt-and-pepper hair looked like she'd cut it herself, and she wore unflatteringly baggy jeans, a tank top sprinkled with rhinestones, and even sparklier sneakers. It took an effort for Helen to notice even that much about Angie, since her eye was drawn to the two more photogenic people in the picture.

Could that small, almost invisible person really be the abrasive harpy who Betty, Josie and Jack had all described?

Photographs could be misleading, of course. Some people were just naturally more photogenic than others, and some people were more impressive in person. The camera certainly loved Ralph and Charlene, drawing the eye away from everything else in the frame. Maybe if Angie had been the only person in the picture, she would have been more impressive.

Helen tried to block out everything except Angie's face. Unlike Ralph and Charlene, Angie was peering off to one side instead of at the camera, and her expression was one of intense irritation. Perhaps that had contributed to the impression that Angie wasn't fully integrated into the picture.

She turned the picture to Charlene, pointing at Angie's eyes. "What was she looking at?"

"I have no idea. All I remember is that she made me give my Nikon to the bellhop, and then she ordered him to take the picture." Charlene laughed fondly, the amusement enveloping her entire face. "She can get anyone to do anything she wants. And what she wants is usually to be the center of attention."

Angie couldn't have been easy to live with as either a sibling or a spouse. Everyone seemed to think it was surprising that the sweet, handsome Ralph had never divorced the demanding, average-looking Angie, but Helen wondered why, if Angie truly believed she was entitled to whatever she wanted, she hadn't divorced Ralph, a man she obviously considered to be lacking in a number of ways?

Of course, Helen knew only too well how easy it was to stay in an unsatisfactory relationship. The last ten years with her ex-husband, she'd viewed the label of "wife" as more of a job description than a personal commitment. She might have stayed married to Frank even longer if it hadn't been for the lupus flare-up that had interfered with her ability to carry out the duties of the state's First Lady. Once she'd taken a break from her usual sixteen-hour workdays, she'd had time to think about what she wanted, and, more to the point, what she hadn't wanted. It hadn't taken long to realize that the two big things she didn't want were her ex-husband and a career in politics.

Angie's situation was different, though. She probably hadn't had a particularly demanding schedule as the wife of a small-town insurance agent. Even with her wide-ranging volunteer activities, she would have had plenty of time to build up resentment against Ralph, until she'd disappeared on him every once in a while as some sort of displaced punishment. But she'd always come back before. If she'd really been so dissatisfied with Ralph, why hadn't she just gotten a divorce and moved on with her life, the way Helen had done?

Maybe Angie had finally decided to do just that. Maybe she hadn't been killed, as Betty and Josie feared, but had simply left Ralph for a test separation and then decided not to come back. If so, where could she have gone? The hotel in the background looked vaguely familiar, but Helen couldn't place it. "Where was this picture taken?"

"A casino." Charlene reached across the coffee table to reclaim the picture. "In Connecticut. That's where she is now, in fact. It's her favorite place to escape from her husband. That picture is from the one and only time he went with her."

To Helen's dismay she felt a fleeting sense of disappointment that there was no murder to investigate. She was glad Angie was alive and well, of course. It was just that looking for Angie had made Helen feel appreciated and useful again.

Just to be sure she hadn't misunderstood, Helen said, "Angie's been gone longer than usual. Has she left her husband for good this time?"

Charlene shrugged. "You'd have to ask her. All she told me was that she needed to get away."

"I would like to ask Angie." It struck Helen as odd that Angie had told her sister she was going away, and where, without saying when she'd be back or even whether she'd ever return. And if she'd said she was leaving for good, then Charlene should have been gloating over her sister's imminent divorce from a man Charlene hated. "Do you know how I can get in touch with her at the casino?"

"I'm sure she'll be back soon." Charlene returned the picture to the shelf and paused to straighten the row of art glass sculptures. "It must be nice to be able to go places on a whim without worrying about the cost or having to put in for vacation time. She'll call when she needs a ride home, but there's no rush. She doesn't have anything important for her to come back to. No job, I mean. She can take all the vacation time she wants, enjoying the shopping and the entertainment and the food. She'll come home when the money runs out."

"When she's gambled it away, you mean? Is she a serious gambler?"

"Angie? No. Of course not," Charlene said, but her voice lacked the conviction it had held earlier. "It's not like she's gambling away her life's savings or even her husband's. She's just having some fun. With her luck she probably won some money, and she's sticking around to spend it."

Helen couldn't tell if Charlene really believed that or was in denial about her sister's gambling. An addiction would certainly explain a lot of Angie's behavior: her disappearances, the secret she was keeping from Ralph, and if her losses had been escalating, even her recent anxiety.  "Has she ever lost more money than she can afford when she goes to the casino?"

"We don't really talk about money," Charlene said. "It's possible she's staying away for other reasons. She could be waiting until her husband finishes building the gazebo. He always makes a mess with his projects, leaving his tools all over the place. If she were at home she'd feel obliged to pick up after him, even while she was resenting him for it. I wouldn't blame her for staying away as long as she can."

That much, Helen could believe. She'd seen the trail of tools between the gazebo and the patio. "If you hear from Angie would you let me know? Her friends would appreciate an update."

"Of course."

"I'm afraid I don't have a current business card to give you. Do you have something I can jot my number on?"

Charlene left to get paper and a pen. Helen gestured for Jack to come closer. He shuffled in from the hallway and knelt beside her chair, still reluctant to risk touching anything in the room.

Helen whispered, "Do you believe her?"

"Why would she lie?"

"I don't know." Maybe it was just Helen's subconscious bias affecting her observations. She wanted to believe Ralph wouldn't hurt his wife, so she wanted to believe Charlene, who was the only other likely suspect, was responsible for Angie's disappearance.

"I did wonder about something," he said, looking guiltily toward the other room where Charlene could be heard rummaging through a drawer. "How did Angie get to the casino? She doesn't drive, and obviously Ralph didn't take her."

Charlene's footsteps approached, and Jack scurried back to the safety of his glass-sculpture-free spot near the door.

Helen took the offered pad and pencil stub, and wrote down her name and cell phone number. Charlene held out her hand to take it back, but Helen pretended not to notice.

"I was just wondering," Helen said. "How did Angie get to the casino? Maybe her driver would know how to contact her, and we wouldn't have to wait until she got in touch with you."

"I drove her down there, but I couldn't stay for more than one night because I had to return for work on Friday night. Weekends are my busy time, you know. She'll call me if she needs a ride home, or she'll hop on one of the tour buses."

Helen handed the pad and pencil to Charlene before leaning heavily on the cane to stand up. "I hope you hear from her soon. It's not just her friends, but Ralph too. He's terribly worried about her."

"Oh, you know Angie," Charlene said. "She likes making her husband worry about her, especially after he's done something stupid."

"What did he do this time?"

"I don't know," Charlene said. "I never know. It's none of my business."

Helen tried to think of a subtle way to ask Charlene what she had against Ralph, but there really wasn't one. Sometimes blunt was the only option. "If your sister's squabbles with her husband are none of your business, then why do you hate Ralph so much?"

"Hate him?" Charlene said. "I don't hate him. I even bought a substantial life insurance policy from him a few years ago. Why would you think I had anything against him?"

"I must have misunderstood," Helen mumbled, no longer knowing who to believe. Charlene sounded honestly surprised, but Ralph had been every bit as convincing in his claim that his sister-in-law hated him, and there was definitely some tension between them in that picture on the mantel.

"Angie's my sister, so I automatically take her side whenever she has an argument with Ralph. That's what family does. 'My sister, right or wrong.' Doesn't mean Ralph's a bad guy. As long as Angie is happy with him, that's all that matters to me. If she wants to leave him, I'll support her in that too."