Sisters (11 page)

‘I’m Alex Woods.’ She thought about mentioning her relationship to Dory, but it seemed like a guaranteed conversation-stopper. ‘What do you do?’ she asked instead.

‘I’m an insurance adjuster. I work downtown in the Hancock Building.’

‘That must be interesting,’ said Alex politely.

‘Not really. But it pays the bills. Somebody has to. My husband’s a flower child. He works part-time at a food co-op and still takes classes.’

Garth, who seemed determined to lighten the atmosphere, smiled at Alex. ‘What about you, Alex?’

‘No, thanks. I’d better get going.’ She gestured vaguely toward the front of the house and began to back out of the room. She had the sudden thought that, as she left the apartment, she might be able to pick up Dory’s coat from the hook in the hallway and carry it off. Everyone was down here in the kitchen. There would be no one to see her take it and, clearly, no one would ever miss it.

‘You can go out this way,’ said Elaine, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. As if to emphasize the point she walked over to the garden door and pulled it open. Then she flipped a switch beside the door, illuminating the walkway surrounded by bushes and plants. ‘It’s dark,’ she said, as if to explain her gesture.

‘That’s all right. I’ll just . . .’ Alex stopped mid-sentence as Elaine came over to her, subtly steering her to the French doors.

‘Do you understand now?’ she said quietly. ‘I told you that you didn’t know everything.’ In a louder voice she said, ‘Follow the path out. It leads up to the street.’

Alex hesitated, realizing that Elaine was not going to give her the choice of how to leave the apartment. And Alex didn’t want to make a scene. She walked out the double doors to the garden. When she reached the foot of the steps leading up to the street, the lights beside the door were abruptly shut off, leaving her in total darkness.

ELEVEN

F
rom under a street light on the corner, Alex called the Justice Initiative and asked to speak to Marisol. A light snow had begun to fall, and she could see the sparkling showers of flakes descending in the glow of the street light. ‘She’s not here,’ said the person who answered the phone. ‘Do you have her number?’

‘Yes,’ said Alex. In a way, she was almost relieved. She didn’t really want to have to tell Marisol about her visit to the Colsons’ apartment. Elaine’s account of Dory’s youthful arrest was undeniably upsetting. But there was still the matter of the coat. Alex had, at least, found it. She decided to send Marisol a text, saying that she thought she knew where Dory’s missing receipt might be. She composed the text, sent it, and then walked back to the station and boarded the next train back to Chichester.

There was a car parked in front of her house when she arrived home. She looked closer at it and saw that it was a dented Ford Taurus. Marisol got out of the Taurus and walked around to the back seat passenger-side door. She lifted a little girl from her car seat and set her down on the front walk. Together they walked up toward the house as Alex pulled in the driveway.

‘What are you doing here?’ Alex said.

‘I got your text,’ Marisol said. ‘What is this all about?’

‘You drove out from the city?’

‘No, I was picking up Iris at my mother’s. In Waltham.’ She leaned down to the child whose hand she was holding. ‘Iris, this is Miss Woods. Say hello.’

The bright-eyed child became immediately bashful. ‘Hello,’ she whispered behind her fingers, which she had placed in her mouth.

‘Nice to meet you, Iris,’ said Alex.

‘So, what gives?’ Marisol asked.

Alex shook out her key chain and sighed. ‘Come on in. I’ll tell you about it.’

Alex opened the door and picked up the mail. She gestured for Marisol and Iris to follow her inside.

‘Can I get you something, Iris?’ Alex asked. Although she didn’t know what she might have that a child would like. ‘Some orange juice?’ she suggested.

Iris shook her head.

‘I may have some toys she could play with but they’re up in the attic,’ said Alex.

‘You’ve got a TV, haven’t you?’ Marisol asked bluntly.

Alex nodded and went into the living room, turning on the TV and the lights.

Marisol settled her daughter on the sofa under a wool throw. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘You watch for a while. Mommy won’t be long.’

Iris nodded obediently and Marisol followed Alex. ‘Any mother who says she doesn’t use the TV for a babysitter is a liar.’

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ said Alex. As she kicked off her shoes and padded back to the refrigerator in her bare feet, she explained to Marisol her thoughts about the receipt.

‘I figured that if the receipt was still in Dory’s coat pocket, the time and date on it might be just what we need to corroborate her story.’

‘What did you do?’ Marisol asked, frowning.

Alex told her about her trip to the store at Back Bay station, and then to the house where Dory grew up. She offered Marisol a bottle of beer from the refrigerator but Marisol declined it. ‘I’m driving,’ she said. ‘Precious cargo.’

Alex poured herself a glass of wine and indicated that they could sit down at the kitchen table.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I went to the Colsons’ apartment and, believe it or not, I found the coat, still hanging in the foyer.’

Marisol groaned and clapped a hand over her eyes. ‘Tell me you didn’t take the receipt.’

Alex took a sip of wine and sat back, affronted. ‘What’s the matter with you? That’s what I went there for.’

Marisol shook her head. ‘Oh, no.’

‘Well, given your reaction, I guess you’ll be glad to know that I never got the chance. I don’t even know if it was in the coat,’ Alex admitted. ‘Her mother came home and basically kicked me out of the house.’

‘You told her mother what you were looking for?’ she asked anxiously.

‘I considered it,’ said Alex. ‘But I decided against it.’

Marisol exhaled noisily. ‘Whew. Good,’ she said. ‘You should have asked me before you did something like that.’

‘I didn’t think I needed your permission.’

Marisol waved her hands as if to dismiss the subject. ‘Anyway, it’s all right. Everything is all right.’

Alex felt irritated by this response. ‘Now it’s all right?’ she demanded. ‘I don’t understand. I didn’t get the receipt. I doubt that Elaine Colson will let me back in that house again. I thought it was a good idea so I did it. Now I’m not so sure.’

‘It was a good idea. It was a great idea,’ said Marisol. ‘It’s just that we can’t be the ones who come up with this receipt. The police have to do that. Otherwise, it’s considered contaminated. They won’t let us use it as evidence for the appeal.’

‘Oh,’ said Alex, thinking how close she had come to stuffing the contents of Dory’s coat pockets into her handbag. ‘Of course. I didn’t realize.’

‘No harm done,’ said Marisol. ‘We know the coat is there. That’s the important thing. We’ll see about getting a search warrant for it.’

‘The police would do that?’ Alex asked. ‘Search Elaine’s house?’

‘No. But I can probably obtain a warrant for that particular item.’

‘If that receipt is in there, will it prove that Dory didn’t kill her sister?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Marisol. ‘She could have gone out for a walk, come home and killed her sister then. After all, it was Dory who found the body. Dory who called nine-one-one.’

Alex frowned at the law student. ‘I’m confused. Do you believe her or don’t you?’

Marisol held up her palms. ‘I’m just saying what a judge might say.’

‘Then why are we bothering? If the receipt doesn’t confirm her story, it doesn’t even matter.’

‘Oh, it matters,’ said Marisol. ‘It could be a game changer. With the receipt, we can gauge how long it would have taken Dory to walk home. And we know what time she called nine-one-one. That receipt may prove convincing evidence that she did not have sufficient time to commit this crime.’

‘Really?’ asked Alex, suddenly hopeful again.

‘If, as you suspect, it’s still in her coat pocket. Well, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. We don’t actually have it yet.’

‘No, right,’ said Alex, sipping her wine. For a moment, they were both silent, lost in thought. ‘There was something else,’ said Alex.

Marisol waited, her eyebrows raised.

‘It turns out that Dory spent some time in a juvenile facility. Apparently, she . . . injured a girl with a razor blade at school. Her record was expunged.’

Marisol paled slightly. ‘You’re sure about this?’

‘You didn’t know, did you?’ Alex said. ‘That’s what Elaine thought.’

‘There’s no way I could know, if it was expunged.’

‘Does it make you wonder,’ said Alex, ‘if maybe . . .’

Marisol shook her head as if to shut off the flow of Alex’s words. ‘Hey, this appeal is on solid ground. One thing has nothing to do with the other.’

‘Not legally, maybe . . .’ said Alex.

‘Legally is all I’m concerned with. Look,’ said Marisol, getting up from her chair. ‘I better get going. It’s bath time and story hour for us. Luckily my mother already fed her. Thank heavens for my mother.’ She walked out into the hall and called out to Iris. ‘Come on, Iris, we’re going.’ She crouched down and began putting Iris’s little jacket back on her.

Alex chewed her lip. ‘Does this . . . change anything for you?’

‘What do you mean?’ the law student asked.

‘Well, I mean, about Dory. What you think about her case?’

Marisol shrugged. ‘This case is about a defendant being entitled to a vigorous defense. And now, thanks to you, we may have actual, physical proof that she was poorly defended. If we find that receipt, that new trial is a given. I feel very confident about that.’ Then Marisol peered at her. ‘Why? Does it change things for you?’

‘I guess I find it a little . . . worrisome.’

Marisol patted her forearm. ‘If we find that receipt, that’s all we need. It’s not DNA, but it’s enough. Just focus on that.’ Marisol bent down and scooped her child up in her arms. ‘It is going to be a long day tomorrow. I have to get that warrant, and find out how all this is going to affect the appeal I’ve already written. That was good work, Alex. Really.’

Alex smiled weakly. ‘Goodbye, Iris.’

‘Say ’bye,’ Marisol instructed the toddler.

‘’Bye,’ Iris whispered sweetly.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Marisol, heading out the door.

Alex felt a little surge of anxiety. For Marisol, this was a legal exercise. After all, Dory wasn’t her sister. ‘Drive carefully,’ she said. ‘That snow is slippery.’

Marisol smiled, flashing her beautiful teeth and cradling her daughter. ‘I am always careful,’ she said.

TWELVE

T
he next day, Alex tried to resume the cleaning out of the house, but she could not concentrate on the task since all her thoughts seemed to revolve around Dory, the coat and the awaited call from Marisol. Finally she pulled on a jacket and some boots, stuffed her phone in her pocket, and headed out of the house. She had a destination in mind. In downtown Chichester there was a store which took up half a block and sold used books and CDs. She thought she would ask the proprietor if he would accept the books that Seth didn’t want. Or, if Seth didn’t come back to look through them, accept them all. It was mostly an excuse to get out of the house.

The walk downtown was chilly but bracing. By the time she got to the store, Alex was feeling slightly more human. She opened the door and the smell of mold and dry paper greeted her. She tried not to inhale. The portly, bespectacled man behind the counter was busy going through some bags of books which had just been brought in by another customer. Alex had to wait her turn.

While she waited, she began to look through the CDs. There was a vast collection of rhythm and blues, opera and even folk music, but very little in the way of country western. She searched through the meager collection in vain.

‘Are you following me?’ asked a voice behind her.

Alex turned around and blushed at the sight of Seth Paige, who was holding half-a-dozen CDs in his hand. She did feel a little bit as if she had conjured him with her thoughts. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said. ‘Actually, I think you’re following me.’

‘That could be. I love this place, don’t you?’ he asked.

Alex nodded. ‘I wanted to ask the owner if he would take any of the books you don’t want.’

‘I am going to get those out of your way. I came back yesterday to have a look, but you weren’t there,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Alex. ‘I’ve been pretty busy.’

He seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate, but she hesitated, not knowing where to begin. Seth frowned and glanced down at the rows of CDs divided by music style and artists. ‘So, you’re a country music fan?’ he asked.

‘No. Not really. I was just looking for a CD of Lauren Colson. Dory’s sister. She made a couple of albums . . .’

‘A country and western singer from Boston? That’s a little odd, isn’t it?’

‘Well, her father was from out west. I guess she grew up listening to country music with him. Once her career got going, she moved to Missouri.’

‘Branson?’ he asked.

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘That’s a big country music town. It’s like Nashville West.’

‘Are you a country fan?’

‘No. Just some fact that stuck in my flypaper mind. Actually, I don’t know one country song from another,’ he said, smiling. ‘They’re all about Jesus, angry redneck women and pick-up trucks, aren’t they?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t listen to country either,’ Alex admitted. ‘But I can’t help being curious. She doesn’t have her own section though.’

Seth began to thumb through a section called Miscellaneous C&W women. ‘Maybe she’s in here.’

‘Maybe,’ said Alex, watching as he flipped through the plastic boxes. Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the caller’s name. ‘Oh, I have to get this,’ she said. ‘Marisol?’

‘Can you get over here?’ Marisol asked. ‘It’s important.’

‘On my way,’ said Alex.

Half an hour later, Alex arrived, breathless, at the Justice Initiative, and clattered up the stairs to Marisol’s office. The door was open and Marisol was jamming papers into an already stuffed file cabinet. Alex planted herself in the doorway. Marisol straightened up when she saw her, smiling.