Kay's lip curled. "I spoke to the lady of the house. She was a royal bitch. Acted like I was a telemarketer calling. I thought maybe we could speak mother to mother, but this rag didn't have the time of day for me. She told me she barely knew Margie and that she really had to go because the agency was sending over a new housekeeper for them. She didn't even say she was sorry."
Kay shook her head, the disbelief still real after twenty-five years.
"How long after Margie disappeared was this?"
"A week. The cops were giving me the runaround so I took matters into my own hands." She gave me a sly, proud smile. "After that, I got two phone calls."
"From who?"
"The first one came from the cops. One of the detectives called to tell me to stop bothering witnesses. He said if it happened again, they could press charges against me for harassment or something like that. I wasn't harassing them. My daughter disappeared. I have my rights. But he told me to let the police do the investigating."
"And who was the other call from?"
"Mr. Bolton. He called to apologize for his wife's behavior. Told me that she was under a lot of stress lately and all this stuff about her having a root canal and being on pain medication. He said she didn't normally act that way, but I wasn't buying it. People don't just try on that behavior out of the blue. She was a bitch from one end of the day to the next. I know the type."
"Did you ask him about Margie?"
"He gave me the same song but in nicer terms. He said they didn't know her that well, but she was a nice girl and to let them know if they could do anything to help. I was up front. I asked about starting a reward fund. I didn't have any money to do it with. He said he thought that was a lovely idea and he'd certainly look into it. That was the last I ever heard from them. I didn't want to call again and get in trouble with the police. And by that time, they were saying they thought Margie ran away."
"The party line."
"You should talk to those Boltons. They still live there. I've been tempted to go right to their door many times over the years, but I never have. Maybe I will before the cancer gets me."
"If anybody talks to them, it should probably be me." Diana patted the envelope. "I guess these articles have a picture of Margie in them."
Kay nodded. She appeared to have something else on her mind.
"What?" Diana asked.
"You need to know that there are forces in New Cambridge that don't want us to know anything about what happened to Margie."
"You mean the Boltons?"
"I mean forces. Take that any way you'd like. You're not from New Cambridge, but you'll find out."
Diana had something else on her mind, and Kay's words didn't fully register. "I wanted to ask you a question," Diana said. "Yesterday you said that not feeling someone was the worst thing. But I think not existing is the worst thing, don't you? And that's what has happened to these people. Your daughter. My sister. They no longer exist. They're not alive or dead. Could there be a worse fate?"
Kay's eyes moved toward the muted TV. They looked dry and vacant. "To be the one left behind," she said, her voice a whisper.
Kay didn't appear to have any more interest in or use for Diana. She looked as though she thought Diana was already gone. Diana gathered her jacket, and before she was through the door, the sitcom was back on. The crowd laughed and the music swelled, and Diana could only imagine that whatever obstacle the characters had faced had been neatly wrapped up in a bow and given to the audience as a gift. Just once she'd like to see someone not get what they want. She was sure it would help her feel less alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Diana was halfway home, the accordion file on the passenger seat, the rain falling heavily enough that she was forced to turn the wipers up to high, when her cell phone rang. She managed to keep one hand on the wheel and both eyes on the road while she extracted the phone from her jacket pocket.
She recognized the number on the screen. Vienna Woods.
She wouldn't be home anytime soon.
*
They had moved her mom to the second floor.
Maria met her at the nurses' station, the hair unfurling from the tight bun just a little, an indication that the day had already been longer than she anticipated. She didn't bother to guide Diana back to the private office, but instead chose to speak to her right there in the open.
"Your mother's illness has moved to a later stage."
"But she was fine." Diana remembered the slap and the scene at the art show. "I mean she was okay. Certainly better before she went to sleep."
"There's no predictability to these things. They can change rapidly."
"So what happened exactly?"