A Truth for a Truth (22 page)

“She’ll be back in a couple of weeks,” she added. “Cinda’s got family in Jamaica. I wish I had family in Jamaica.”

“Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Flo should be done in a few minutes. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and I’ll send her out.”

I had hoped to see more of the facility, but there was no good reason to ask for a tour. I thanked her and took a seat.

I was engaged in a killer game of War with an ancient woman in a powder blue housecoat and curlers when Flo entered the lobby. I apologized for leaving, and the woman pointed out that I’d been losing anyway. I vowed a rematch.

Flo and I walked outside. She looked tired, but she told me someone was coming to relieve her soon. We stood together on the porch taking gulps of fresh spring air to replace the antiseptic tang of the home.

I explained why I had come. “But I found out something interesting while I was waiting,” I told her. “Did you know Win Dorchester was here right before he died?”

She looked surprised. “I had no idea.”

Again I wished Jamaican Cinda was returning sooner. “Any suspicions why he might have come?”

“I can’t imagine, unless he was hoping to find some of the people he used to visit. But he must have known they’d be gone by now.”

I didn’t want to ask Flo about a possibly more intimate relationship between Win and Ellen or Ellen’s daughter. I was afraid if I did, she would shut down and stop being helpful. I just repeated that I hoped to ask Zoey a few questions when she got to town.

“You’re in luck. She’s already here,” Flo said. “She’s not staying with me. That seemed too obvious, in case Craig shows up looking for her. Ellen’s death
was
in the papers, and they did interview me.”

I hoped she was about to tell me where Zoey was, instead.

“She’s staying with a friend of mine, but she did say she’d be at the funeral home this morning making final arrangements. You can probably find her there.” She lowered her voice. “Ask for Zoey Salvo. I’ll give her a call when I get home and tell her you want to talk to her. If you don’t find her first, I’m sure she’ll call you back.”

I appreciated Flo’s concern for Zoey’s safety and told her so.

“I doubt all the cloak-and-dagger stuff is necessary, but you can never be too careful,” Flo said. “I couldn’t live with myself if that animal found her because of something I said.”

The Weiss-Bitman Funeral Home isn’t far from the parsonage, on a quiet street in the most historic section of Emerald Springs. The house was built in the mid-nineteenth century and said to have housed a steady stream of sadly childless couples, until Mr. Weiss or Mr. Bitman discovered its true calling. I’d been here before, and as funeral homes go, it offers less service and more arm-twisting. Ed and most of his colleagues try to steer grieving families to another funeral home on the edge of town.

Inside, canned organ music was coming from a room at the end of the hall. Mourners were signing a guest-book in that doorway, and a funeral home employee was lethargically directing traffic. I waited until he’d herded the group in front of me in the right direction before I asked him where I might find Zoey Salvo. He pointed to the staircase up to the second floor.

Upstairs a woman about my own age was just coming out of a door marked Business Office. She was tall and thin, with short blonde hair and a sad expression. I made my best guess.

“Excuse me, are you Zoey Salvo?”

She looked beyond me before she answered, as if she wanted to be sure no one was with me. She gave a short nod.

I explained who I was and why I was there, and made sure to explain how I was connected to Win Dorchester. “Flo told me I might find you here,” I finished. “Do you have time to talk, or could we make time later?” She had, after all, just made arrangements to send her mother’s body to Florida for burial.

“I don’t know what I can tell you.”

I suspected sitting in a downtown coffee shop was out. Most likely Zoey didn’t want to exhibit herself in public places. “We can sit in my car,” I said. “There’s a little park at the end of the street.”

“If it won’t take too long. It’s been a hard morning.”

I asked her about the arrangements for her mother, and she told me that Ellen had wanted to be buried in Ocala, where she had retired. Zoey planned to honor her wishes.

Zoey checked the street before she stepped off the porch. I was parked right in front and got her into my van without fuss.

“I’m driving Flo’s friend’s car. I parked a few streets over,” she said. “Then I called the home on my cell phone to be sure no man had been there asking about me and nobody was lurking.”

I couldn’t imagine how tough returning here must have been for her and told her so. Not only had she lost her mother, now she had to worry about her stalker ex.

“My husband wanted to come,” she said, “but his father’s been ill, and he took a turn for the worse yesterday. Frank needs to stay close by, just in case. I don’t have any reason to think Craig’s still hanging around Emerald Springs. About ten years ago I heard he turned over a new leaf, went into counseling, and left town to start over. But I’m not willing to assume the best, not after what he put me through.”

The lead-in was perfect, and I told her so. “I met your mother at Win Dorchester’s memorial service. She told me then that Win had helped you.”

“He saved my life. Craig had convinced me I couldn’t live without him, and he was always so sorry, you know. He would promise not to ever touch me in anger again, and like a fool, I’d believe him. Reverend Dorchester helped me see it was all a lie, that Craig didn’t want to change and didn’t know how. Craig insisted he didn’t need help, and in the end that no longer mattered to me. Because I did, and I got it.”

Zoey had an expressive face. She wasn’t really pretty, but her big brown eyes made up for a wide mouth and jutting chin. It was easy to tell what she was feeling, and I saw she was proud of herself for changing.

“Did Flo tell you I’m trying to see if there’s a connection between your mother’s death and his?” I asked. “Maybe it’s a huge stretch, but it seems worth exploring.”

“She mentioned it. I can’t imagine how they’re connected, not unless Craig’s involved. But why now? If he wanted them dead, he had plenty of time to make it happen.”

“Who knows how a man like that thinks?”

She nodded, and I could almost read her thoughts. She had lived with him, and not only had he lied to her repeatedly, she had believed him.

“So I have to ask you a question you don’t want to hear,” I continued. “Please understand I’m not trying to pry. But I need to know if either you or your mother had anything more than a counseling relationship with Win. Did it ever get more intimate? Because if it did, that could explain a lot.”

“Intimate?” She turned to look me fully in the face. “Like an affair?”

I didn’t want to tell her about Marie Grandower, or about Geoff’s suspicion there had been more women. She had enough sadness to deal with. I didn’t want to knock Win off the pedestal she’d placed him on.

“I know it’s a rotten question,” I said instead. “But if there’s any chance his death and your mother’s are related, we need to know.”

“He never in any way stepped over the line with me,” she said emphatically. “And I’m sure there was nothing happening with Mom, either. I would have known. She thought the world of him, but he was always Reverend Dorchester to her, the man who helped me get away from Craig. She was a very strict Catholic. She never even divorced my father, even though he deserted us.”

I believed her, and I was glad. It’s easy to see shadows everywhere after the first one’s been spotted.

“Thank you,” I said. “I hated to ask.”

“Well, I hated to hear it.”

“Can you think of any other way your mother and Win might have been connected?”

Zoey was silent a moment. “Reverend Dorchester visited patients at Russell House, and he counseled me. That’s it. Mom thought highly enough of him to come back to hear him speak at your church. She e-mailed to say that she’d chatted with him for a few minutes during the reception.”

“Do you know about what?”

“She told him I was doing well, and he told her to tell me how happy he was that I’d finally gotten the life I deserved.”

“I’m glad. Was there anything else?”

“Not that she mentioned.”

“Do you have any additional information about your ex that the police could follow up on?”

“Other than that rumor from ten years ago that he’d finally gotten his act together, I haven’t heard a thing. I don’t even want to think about Craig. Never again.”

I knew we’d reached the end. There was nothing else to ask about. I offered to drive her to her friend’s car, and she let me. Once there we parked and waited a few minutes to be sure no one was about. Then Zoey said good-bye and took off for a small Chevrolet, beeping it open, so all she had to do was throw the door back and jump in.

Watching her, I was more grateful than usual that I had met and married the right guy the first time.

I own a cell phone. It’s the most basic model, and even I can open it to listen to a phone call and close it when the call has ended. The biggest problem is that I never remember to bring it with me.

So it was no surprise when I arrived home from my conversation with Zoey to find Ed in the doorway holding it up, like an award he was about to bestow.

“This is your cell phone. It’s supposed to go places with you.”

This was not the first time I’ve been chastised, although it never seems to help. The real surprise? The unmistakable sounds of workmen in our house, which matched the beat-up white van with two ladders on the roof that was parked in our driveway.

“Hot water heater? A sudden roof leak?” I looked up to the skies to see if it had been raining, and I hadn’t noticed.

“You’re finally getting your new kitchen floor.”

“Are you kidding me?” For a moment I was thrilled. I had given up hope the church board would ever find the money to put in a new floor. Every time the subject came up—and I made sure it came up frequently—a new problem came with it.

“What about the asbestos?” That had been the most recent reason to stall.

“No asbestos after all.”

I envisioned all the books I could read in the time I’d spent scrubbing and waxing. I envisioned knees without calluses.

The thrill lasted only moments. Then I sobered. “Why didn’t somebody alert us?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I’ll say it was a surprise. Not only hadn’t I been alerted, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t even been
consulted
.

“Do they have samples with them? Doesn’t it usually take time to order the materials?”

“That’s all been taken care of.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Without us?”

“Apparently Hildy claimed there was no need to bother us. She said you liked the old floor so well, you’d love to have another one just like it. Only a new one you don’t have to spend so much time taking care of. So they’re putting in black and white squares again.”

“Hildy?”

“There’s a lot that can be said about Hildy, including the fact that she gets things done. She called every member of the board and told them they owed us this.”

I was stunned. I could only imagine how much the board had wanted to hear that. What I couldn’t imagine? Living with that dreadful new floor when I could have had one I loved for the same price.

One that I picked out. Me, the
present
resident of the parsonage.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“She left for home once she was sure the crew was doing their job according to her specifications.”

“Tell them not to put down a single piece of flooring.”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll be tearing out the present floor for the rest of the weekend. We won’t be able to use our kitchen without cleaning every single thing in it.”