Robin managed a wry smile. “She had left her hotel room just before they got there. But they got fingerprints, and identified her from her previous stalking sentence. About that time, Variety ran a story about me coming here for the filming. Tracy got here ahead of the film crew and got a job with the craft service company hired for the shoot. The LAPD had shown me a picture, but it was like a driver’s license headshot. I didn’t have a clear idea who I was watching for.”
“You know what happened after that,” I said, cutting short this unpleasant trip down memory lane. When Tracy had tried to kill me, Sophie had been a tiny cluster of cells in my womb. I hadn’t even known I was pregnant. The thought of Sophie never existing …
Tracy had been arrested and taken to jail. At her arraignment, the judge had agreed with her court-appointed lawyer that Tracy’s mental condition should be evaluated. Again.
The last we’d heard, she was in a secure facility being “evaluated.” I hadn’t even wanted to know where she was. I’d dismissed Tracy Beal from my thoughts.
“You haven’t heard from her?” Cathy asked.
“I’ve gotten a couple of e-mails that sounded reminiscent of her. But she was locked up. I was sure it couldn’t be her.” Robin did not look at me as he said this.
And he felt that concealing the flu was outrageous?
“Do you have these?” Cathy said. “You didn’t delete them?”
“I saved them,” Robin said.
“I’ll need to see them, of course. Now I need to get in touch with Tracy’s mother and sister,” Cathy said, making a note on a little pad she kept in her purse. “Their contact information should be in our records.”
“Have you found Virginia’s cell phone?” I said abruptly.
Cathy and Robin both looked at me as if they’d forgotten I was in the room.
“No,” Cathy said. “Why?”
“When you watch the film,” I said, “Virginia gets a phone call that clearly upsets her. Maybe it was from Tracy?” I wanted something to tie together.
Cathy look doubtful. “It doesn’t seem likely they’d met, but we’ll ask about that. Naturally, we’ve checked Virginia’s apartment. Her neighbors haven’t seen her in a couple of days. Neither has her mother, who is very worried about her daughter. So she didn’t go to either place she could call home after she vanished from your house.”
“I’m not surprised, since her car was still here after she disappeared,” I said. “You towed it? I can’t imagine Virginia’s disappearance and the death of Tracy are unrelated.”
“Yes, we towed it, and no, those can’t be unrelated,” Cathy said. “Not even you could have luck that bad.” She stood up slowly. She wore her weariness like a coat on her shoulders. “All right, then. Tracy Beal. We can start tracking her movements now that she’s been tentatively identified. We’ll find out how she turned up in your backyard.”
“Good,” I said, not bothering to make my tone any less snappish. I was angry on so many levels.
Cathy looked at me in an evaluating way, if I can call it that. “Roe, do you think I’m not trying my hardest to find out who killed this woman? Do you think I’m not trying to find out where Virginia Mitchell is?”
“No,” I said, flustered. “Not at all.”
“Do you think this is the only case I have?”
I’d never thought about that one way or another. “I guess not?” I said.
“It isn’t. We’ve got an elder-abuse case. I’m helping with the interviews for a teen party shooting at Dr. Clifton’s, same night Tracy got killed.” There was something desperate in Cathy’s face, something I wasn’t able to define.
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “Are you telling me this because you think we expect miracles?”
“I’m thinking you and Robin have some knowledge you’re not sharing about this Tracy Beal.”
“Not so,” I said forcefully.
“Uh-huh.” Cathy looked at me skeptically, and then she left, taking the depressing picture and the nanny cam recording with her. I walked with her to the door. We didn’t speak.
Since I was already on my feet, I looked in on Sophie. Sound asleep.
When I returned to the living room, Robin was sitting with his head in his hands.
“I know this seems like I was hiding something from you,” he said, not looking at me.
“It doesn’t just seem like that. You did. You suspected Tracy was back on your trail, and you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want you to worry. After all, this is the woman who tried to kill you.”
“Which is exactly why I needed to be on the alert.” I grabbed hold of my temper and sat across from him. “Listen, Robin, you had a valid point; I should have told you I was really sick before you left. I shouldn’t have withheld that knowledge from you. And I should have called you the moment I found the dead woman. But I feel we’re about even, now. What do you say?”
He peeked between his fingers at me, looking relieved. “I say yes. Cathy thinks I’ve concealed something else, something crucial. I don’t know why she feels that way. I can live with her disapproval, but not with yours. Come give me a hug. I’m too tired for anything else—I never thought I’d say that, I must be getting old. Roe, I missed you so much. And I was scared to death.”
I expelled a deep breath. Our teeter-totter relationship was back in balance. Being newlyweds—with a baby and a body in the yard—was no walk in the park.
Chapter Nine
Robin trudged off to our room to sleep. Evidently, Phillip was still zonked out. I was a couple of degrees better than I had been the day before, but I had zero energy. This was the house of dull people.
There were many little tasks I should take care of. I should have asked Cathy when the crime scene tape could be removed from our backyard. I should definitely call my mother; it was really weird she hadn’t texted me. Even though she was out of town, surely some crony of hers had let her know what had happened. Maybe there was a voice mail on my cell? No, and that was her usual choice. I could see the blinking light on the landline answering machine. I told myself I should get up to listen to those messages.
But I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Anyone at all. And I didn’t want to move.
I resorted to my tried and true comfort. I settled on the couch to read a Leigh Perry mystery, one I’d begun three days ago (it seemed like a year). To my chagrin, I had to backtrack to pick up the narrative.
I felt like a different person had started reading this book, and that person had a bad memory.
Whether I was sure about the characters’ names or not, it was relaxing to enjoy a book … all by myself. I sighed when Phillip stumbled into the room thirty minutes later, rumpled and in need of a shave. He made a beeline for the refrigerator, where he poured a huge glass of orange juice. It disappeared in a few gulps. Then he began rummaging in the pantry until he found a Pop-Tart.
“Sis,” he said, by way of greeting. “What’s up?”
“Robin’s home. I understand you called him.” I gave Phillip a steely stare.
He looked guilty. “Well…” He couldn’t think how to go on with the sentence.
“I was mad for a few minutes,” I said, relenting. “But I understand why you did it. You were probably right. Did you know about the nanny cam?”
His blank expression told me the answer. “That’s … what is that?” he said.
“It’s a hidden camera meant to give parents the real picture on how their child’s caregiver acts when the parents aren’t around.”