Cold Blood (55 page)

“So during the time Anna Louise has been missing, you never saw anything faintly suspicious about Tilda’s behavior? By that I mean, did she change? Did she become moody or uncooperative in any way?”

Mrs. Brown was so pale and washed out that Lorraine felt almost cruel questioning her. She wept constantly, wiping her tears away with a handkerchief, unfolding it to blow her nose, then refolding it again to wipe her eyes.

“Well, of course she was very, very upset. Anna Louise was her best friend, she was inconsolable about her, and for her to disappear like that was just dreadful for Tilda. They had been very close since childhood, and I think what made it worse was that they had argued the day before, so Tilda never had a chance to make it up with Anna Louise. That’s what upset her most of all.”

Lorraine looked at Mr. Brown, who sat straight-backed, his face bearing a pained, quizzical expression.

“Do you think Tilda did what she did because she was still upset about Anna Louise?”

Lorraine asked, her voice hWied and sounding, even to herself, excessively conspiratorial.

“We don’t know, we had thought she had gotten over it all, but she obviously had not, and quite possibly, Mrs. Page, your visit might have made her sink into a depression. We do not know, just as we really do not know why you came out to see her.”

He looked at Lorraine almost accusingly, and he was becoming agitated, his hands clenching and unclenching, though he tried to hide it by pressing them into his thighs.

“We had interviews for many weeks after Anna Louise disappeared, and poor Tilda, on top of losing her dearest friend, was questioned more than anyone. What did you ask her, Mrs. Page? Why don’t you tell us if she became upset, because we would dearly like to know, need to know what made our only daughter do such a terrible thing? She has broken our hearts.”

Lorraine lied for a further half hour, making up chitchat questions and answers regarding her interview with Tilda about Anna Louise. It was all so emotionally tense that Lorraine felt they were draining her energy from her.

“I need to see any friend of Tilda’s that she saw on a regular basis, and where she went. I need to build up a picture of your daughter prior to the tragedy.”

Mr. and Mrs. Brown whispered to each other, and Mrs. Brown nodded her head. She then excused herself and left the room.

Mr. Brown sighed and looked toward the wall of glass through which the pool and tennis court were visible.

“We have tried to come to terms with it, Mrs. Page. We know Tilda was so worried about what had happened to Anna Louise. There were such stories about kidnap and rape, or even, pray God it is not true, that she might have been murdered. And as a result, Tilda kept very much to herself for the past few months, but my wife will give you details.”

“Thank you.”

He stared down at his shoes, and then bit his lip.

“Although I do not see why you are taking such an interest. I believe Mr. and Mrs. Caley hired you to keep up the search for their daughter, and rightly so, but I do not understand why you would spend so much of your time on Tilda. In fact, I feel quite guilty that we are taking you away from your investigation to talk about Tilda.”

Lorraine smiled.

“Please, Mr. Brown, I think in the end it will only help me. You see, they were such dear friends, the more I find out about Tilda means I am also finding out about poor Anna Louise Caley.”

“Ah, yes, I understand, well …”

Lorraine opened her briefcase and took out the doll, still wrapped in the towel. He seemed not to be paying any attention, staring vacantly toward the window. She crossed to a dining table near the window, and unwrapped the doll.

“I didn’t want your wife to see this because it is so upsetting, but I think you should.”

He joined her at the table, and then gasped.

“Dear God, where did you find this?”

“In Tilda’s bedroom, hidden in a tennis racket cover.”

His hands were shaking as he reached out, not to touch the doll but to hold the edge of the table.

“It was in my daughter’s bedroom?”

he said, aghast.

“Yes. As you can see, it has her picture on its face, and”

His fist banged down on the table.

“It must be one of the help, but why? Dear God Almighty, what would any one of them make this for? It’s disgusting.”

‘

“It’s a voodoo doll, Mr. Brown.”

“I know what it is,”

he snapped.

“So you see why I am here. I know a girl who worked here, Ruby Cor-

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LYNDA LA PLAMTE 351

bello, was fired, and I think perhaps she made it out of spite, to frighten Tilda.”

“I’ll have her arrested.”

“But I don’t have the proof that she did, Mr. Brown. Also, the newspaper it was wrapped in was dated February fifteenth last year, the day Anna Louise disappeared, so your daughter had this doll for a long time.”

He was staring at the doll, and suddenly his shoulders began to shake, and he sobbed, awful dry gasping sobs.

Mrs. Brown walked in, carrying a sheet of violet notepaper.

“I’ve jotted down all the people I can think of.”

Mr. Brown straightened, trying to control himself, but he was obviously very distressed.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, please excuse me, I’m sorry.”

He rushed past his wife as Lorraine quickly covered the doll and looked after him. Mrs. Brown tried to touch him, but he hurried out, closing the door.

Mrs. Brown joined Lorraine at the window and sighed while looking out.

“I think I know what upset him, they used to play in there for hours on end when they were children, Tilda and Anna Louise. We should take it down.”

Lorraine looked out in the same direction as Mrs. Brown but could see only a gardener clipping hedges and a small white building, the size of a shed, close to the bushes.

“My husband built that little playhouse for her and she would never let him take it down. She used to say she wanted to bring our grandchildren here to play in it when she got marrie^so seeing it must have reminded him. We loved our daughter so mucn, Mrs. Page.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

Mrs. Brown passed Lorraine the neatly folded sheet of notepaper.

“These are some of the friends I know she visited, plus the pastor and group she went to church with. And this is her doctor and the girls she went horseback-riding with, and this is the list of the people she knew at college. I’ve put down their addresses and phone numbers, or the ones I recalled and were on the Christmas-card lists. Most of them came to her funeralwell, not the ones from her college.”

“Thank you, I do appreciate this.”

“She didn’t go back to Los Angeles after Anna Louise disappeared, said she couldn’t face it there. She said she wanted to be here, just in case she called, or made contact.”

Mrs. Brown drew out her sodden little handkerchief again.

“She had been doing so well in college, it was such a shame, but she said she just could not think or concentrate until she found out what had happened to Anna.”

Mrs. Brown shrugged her shoulders.

352 “I’m sorry, it must have affected her deeply.”

Mrs. Brown nodded.

“Yes, it affected us all. Now, well, nothing will ever be the same again.”

Lorraine slumped into the car and wound down the window.

“Jesus Christ, they say they don’t know why their daughter fucking hanged herself when it’s so obvious she was going nuts in that house because her best friend disappears and …”

Lorraine leaned forward.

“She doesn’t go back to college. She stays home most of the time and is nervous and worried. She’s got a fucking death doll in her tennis racket case. Holy shit, they must really have been blind not to pick up the fact their daughter needed professional help! And added to that, the poor kid had also been fucked royally by her best friend’s father. No wonder she tied the knot. I think I’d maybe do it under the same circumstances.”

Franc, ois waited as Lorraine checked over Mrs. Brown’s neat list of socalled friends. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he nodded his head.

“Okay, Frangois, I want the pastor first. Then we’ve got to get to the first two addresses on this list.”

She passed him Mrs. Brown’s note.

“Yes, ma’am, church it is. Pastor Bellamy is a mighty fine man.”

“You know him?”

“No, ma’am, but he’s well known for preachin’ a good sermon.”

Lorraine smiled.

“Do you all lie, Francois?”

“Who do you mean by all, Miss Lorraine?”

She laughed.

“Cabdrivers, Francois, cabdrivers. What do you think f meant, all blacks?”

He gave a big, gap-toothed grin that showed an inch of pink gum.

“I didn’t think a fine lady like you would make a racial remark like that. We hear and see things in a cab, Mrs. Page, but we say nothin’.”

“Unless there’s money in it for you,”

she muttered.

“Unless there is money in it.”

He giggled.

They drove out through the front gates, Lorraine turning the interview over in her mind; she was sure it hadn’t been the playhouse that had so disturbed Mr. Brown, but the foul-smelling doll she had shown him. She sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have shown it to himit didn’t do any good in the end, just added to their grief.

By ten-thirty Rosie had decided that the amount she was offering was too little. The first cab company seemed not the slightest bit interested in

whether or not there was a possible reward for something left in a taxi maybe eleven to twelve months ago, which would entail hours of leafing through old record slips from the previous year. So she rethought her approach, and this time took a cab to the Hotel Cavagnal. She asked if they divided up the territory, cruised, or picked up fares by phone call, and was told that they did all three, so that was not much help. What was also not helpful was that the town was filling up rapidly as the preparations for Mardi Gras began in earnest. Bunting and flags were hung, large floral displays were being watered, and every shopwindow was being decorated. Posters of forthcoming events were being plastered on every available section of wall space, and the streets were beginning to throb with visitors arriving early for the parades.

Rosie got out at the hotel but did not go into the closed courtyard. Instead she walked a block up the street. Anna Louise had not booked a cab via the hotelthat they knewso did she walk to the main intersection and flag one down? Rosie began to note all the different cabs passing back and forth. A few even slowed down and asked if she needed a ride. Eventually she flagged down a persistent one, which had passed her three times.

“You look like you’re lost, ma’am,”

the driver said politely.

“Nope, not lost. I’m looking for a special taxicab. I’m from an insurance company, and whoever this driver is could be in line for …”

She hesitated, wondering how much would be a good incentive. Then she stopped because she remembered Lorraine’s saying in one of their note sessions that Robert Caley had seen his dauŤter’s purse on the bed. So, did it mean she did not have any cash on herMf so, maybe someone from the hotel gave her a lift to wherever she went that night.

Rosie waved on her persistent cabdriver and looked around for a phone boothshe needed to talk to Lorraine.

She called the Browns’ house to find that Lorraine had already left. She then called the hotel, but neither Rooney nor Lorraine was there. She returned to the Cavagnal and hovered outside for a while, trying to make up her mind what she should do and watching two bellboys carrying new guests’ luggage into the hotel, departing guests’ luggage out. For a smallish hotel there was a lot of activity. She heard one bellboy shout over to the other as he struggled with a set of Hermes luggage.

“The second-floor blue suite for those, Enrol.”

Rosie sauntered across to the sweating Errol, wondering if Rooney had already questioned him.

“Hi, I wonder if you could help me out?”

she said, smiling warmly.

“Anything you need, ma’am,”

he said with a slight bow.

Rosie said that she was not a hotel guest, but needed to have a private conversation, and that she would pay for it. If he was unable to talk right that minute she could wait.

Errol pushed his pillbox hat up and gave a look around.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?”

Rosie tried the direct approach.

“Anna Louise Caley.”

He threw up his hands, and shook his head.

“Lady, I been asked about that girl more times than I can count. I don’t know nothin’ about her, and that is the truth.”

Rosie looked away, something she’d learned from watching Lorraine.

“Fine, it’s just that I got five hundred dollars cash for a little bit of information.”

“How little is this bit?”

he asked, toying with what Robert Caley had said, what he’d given him, and what the future might hold. But a car drew up and he had to get back to work.

“I got a break in fifteen, why don’t you come back?”

Robert Caley asked the cabdriver to stop about halfway down the street from Ruby Corbello’s house. He paid him and told him if he wanted double his fare he should wait. He then walked down the road to the Corbellos’.

“Why, Mr. Caley!”

Juda said, and it pained her to speak because she had such a hangover she could hardly lift her head.

“Mrs. Salina,”

he said, but without the surprise he felt at seeing her.

“Come on in,”

she growled, and he looked from the doorstep to see if anyone was watching, but there was no one.

Caley sat in the kitchen, refused any refreshment, mulling over whether or not he should ask after Ruby.

“My sister and niece, Ruby, are out visiting a sick baby. I am here alone, and it’s good because it gives me an opportunity to talk to you straight.”

He nodded, wondering how much she knew and if, like her niece, she was about to try to blackmail him. It was all becoming too much, too heavy, and he loosened his collar.

“I know you don’t like me and you never have,”