Kay laughed again. "Girl, you did just fall off the turnip truck, didn't you? Do you think the police are going to investigate John Bolton? In this town? I'm sure they went and knocked on his door. He probably made them go around to the servants' entrance in the back before he gave them some song and dance about what a tragedy it was that Margie ran away. And then they dropped it. End of story."
Diana leaned back and rested against the driver's side door. She looked at Kay while she processed the details of their conversation. Some things were falling into place, but probably not the way Kay hoped they would.
"Actually," Diana said, "if there really was an affair, it makes it more likely that Margie ran away."
"What?" Kay twisted in her seat to look at Diana, her face contorted with puzzlement. "An affair would make it more likely he'd want her out of the picture."
Diana shook her head. "Except he has an alibi for the night Margie disappeared."
"Oh, that."
"It's not a small thing, Kay. He was at the hospital because his kid fell down the stairs. Hospitals keep records."
"Records can be faked."
Diana shook her head. "You're reaching too far," she said. "It's not there."
"Then go look at the records. Let's drive there and ask to see them. Come on. Go."
"Kay..."
"Start the damn car. Let's go."
"You can't just walk into a hospital and ask to see somebody's records. There are privacy issues involved. If his kids lived in town, we could ask, but he said they'd all moved away."
"If the patient's dead, it doesn't matter. I saw that on Law and Order. If the patient's dead, they always say they have the right to look at any of those records."
"Wait a minute...who's dead?"
"John Bolton's daughter, Clarissa. She's the one who fell down the stairs that night, and she died about ten years ago. Some sort of aneurism thing when she was a teenager. She's dead, so we can see the records."
Diana didn't really hear what Kay was saying. Her mind had drifted away, considering the new information.
"Right?" Kay said. "We can see the records now? You used to be a cop. You should know these things."
"His daughter's dead?"
"Yes. Why?"
Diana shook her head again. "I don't know. It's just sad, I guess."
"Are you going to look that stuff up now?" Kay said.
Diana found herself thinking about Dan for a moment, as well as her interactions with Kay Todd. The way she'd been pushed and pulled, jerked around like a fish on the line. She wanted the hooks out of her mouth. "No," she said. "Get out of the car."
"What?"
"I'm done with you. All you've done is lie to me, and I don't have the stomach for that. Get out."
Kay looked shocked, a mother having her authority challenged. But she wasn't Diana's mother, and Diana knew she didn't owe Kay anything. She had enough troubles without taking on ones belonging to others.
"It's unlocked," Diana said. "Go."
Kay put her cigarette in her mouth and fumbled for the door handle. "Are you done looking for Margie?"
Diana waited until Kay was out of the car and had closed the door behind her. She spoke through the open window.
"I'm done with all of it," Diana said. "Anything involving you."
"Don't you want to know about your sister?"
"I wouldn't believe a word you told me."
Kay said something back, but Diana didn't hear it. She hit a button with her left hand, sending the passenger side window up, leaving Kay Todd alone in the parking lot, her lips moving and the sound blocked from Diana's ears by the glass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Diana eased to a stop across the street from Dan's house. She almost kept on going. It was full dark now, all of the houses glowing, their lights spilling out onto the neatly manicured lawns and smoothly paved driveways, and Diana felt like an intruder, a prowler come to upset the status quo.
She had never been to the house before. When she and Dan were together, they met at her apartment, and Diana never got over feeling a little ashamed of her pathetic accommodations. The noisy neighbors, the peeling paint. It always felt like Dan was taking a step down, although he never said anything like that, and she knew most of it was in her head. But now that she saw his house—the suburban brick ranch with the azalea bushes out front and the two car garage—she wondered if the whole thing had been just a fun-filled fling for him, a mindless romp before he went back to his real life, the one with his wife and grown children.
Diana watched the house. Because of the closed garage door, it was impossible to know if Dan was even home, and she recognized the shortsightedness of her plan before she even dropped the car into park. She could find his house easy enough, but how would she get to talk to him without his wife finding out?
This is why you're not a cop anymore, she told herself. Not sneaky enough.