“No hurry,” I said. I noticed that the two suitcases I’d seen in the bedroom on my earlier visit had been moved to the foyer. She caught my gaze as it drifted from the luggage back to her.
“Bayard and Ellis are going on a trip while I pack my things. I have a moving van coming first thing Monday morning.”
“You and Bayard are splitting up?”
She seemed amused. “You think it’s me Bayard’s interested in? Good luck.”
“I assumed the two of you were romantically involved.”
“He’s my stepson. He’s ten years younger than I am. What do I need with a pip-squeak whose alcohol consumption is out of control? Time to move on in life. I told him I’d rented a place in LA and next thing you know, he’s leaving town himself. Probably trying to save face.”
I was already worried I might not have another opportunity to pick her brain. “Would you mind if I asked a couple of questions about Sloan?”
She made a gesture that signified her consent.
“You were in the picture when she was killed.”
“I was.”
“I understand Tigg was supportive of Bayard.”
“He made a deal with the DA, didn’t he?”
“But that might have been more about his pride than protecting Bayard.”
“The truth is Tigg mistreated Bayard. He and Joan fought over him like two dogs over a bone. He was just a little kid and they tore him apart. Do you know what kept him going? He knew in the long run he’d inherit Tigg’s estate, which he considered just compensation for all the shit he put up with.”
Bayard approached from the corridor in chinos, a white polo shirt, and deck shoes without socks. “Thank you, Maisie, for minding my business for me. If I need sympathy, I’ll give you a call.”
She turned on him. “I don’t have much sympathy for you, Bayard. I’m all played out. Your life was tough, I’ll grant you that one, but you put yourself where you are. You don’t like it, then straighten up your act.”
“Good counsel from someone who’s never worked a day in her life. You think your advice is so sterling, hang out a sign. Maybe someone else will take you seriously. I don’t. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she snapped.
The look that lingered between them was, for the first time, intimate, possibly because they were finally putting their cards on the table. Maisie crossed to the front door. She adjusted her earphones, activated her CD player, and let herself out.
“Sorry about that,” Bayard said. His apology was a move designed to shift me to his side, as though Maisie’s candor had embarrassed us both. Not so from my perspective, but I didn’t think I should say so to him.
“Good I caught up with you,” I said. “I understand you’re going out of town.”
“Just for the weekend. Palm Springs. I’m hoping to fine-tune my golf game.”
I was hoping he’d be sober enough to hold a club. “When do you leave?”
“Late tomorrow afternoon. Ordinarily we’d drive, but in the interest of saving time, we decided to fly.”
“Could I ask a quick question? I may not have occasion to talk to you again.”
The notion of never seeing me again seemed to improve his mood.
“You want to come into the living room and have a seat?”
“I’m fine here. This really won’t take long.”
He gestured carelessly. “I heard about Fritz, so you can save the condolences for someone else.”
“You weren’t a fan?”
“He was an irritating little shit, so no love lost. I’m sorry for what happened, but I can’t say I’m upset.”
“You’re aware the Astra Constable was found up at Yellowweed?”
“The police must be thrilled.”
“Do you remember what happened to the gun after Sloan was killed?”
“Vividly. This was still up at the site while Austin was coaching us on our alibi. He tried to foist it off on Troy, but Troy was having none of it so then he turns to me, like I’m the lucky recipient. I don’t want the damn thing. He says all he wants me to do is pass the gun to Iris to hold for him. I mean, how weird is that after what happened to her?”
“And she agreed?”
“She never had the chance. Once Sloan’s body was found, the police were all over us. Of course, they were all over everybody else as well, but the focus quickly narrowed to the four of us. We might have gotten away with it, but let’s face it, we were amateurs. Austin and I managed to keep our composure, but even early on, it was clear Fritz would crack.”
“What about Troy?”
“He’s a Boy Scout at heart. If Fritz rolled over, so would he. Anyway, before I had time to give Iris the gun, Austin showed up and asked to have it back. He said he was hitting the road and needed it for protection. He also wanted to keep the weapon out of the hands of the police because it was registered to his dad and he didn’t want his father implicated.”
“How soon after that did he leave?”
“Don’t know, but I doubt he hung around long. Within days, word was out that Fritz had broken down and confessed everything. Austin’s ass was grass. Mine, too, of course, but Fritz painted him as the mastermind. There was no way Austin could tap-dance his way out of that.”
I stared at the floor, wondering if he was leveling with me. Somehow, I thought not. “Any idea where he went?”
“He didn’t mention a destination. The less I knew, the better where he was concerned.”
“And you haven’t heard from him since?”
“Not a peep.”
? ? ?
In the car again, wending my way out of Horton Ravine, I passed Maisie as she ran along the road. She was some distance from the house, so she’d made good time. I drove another hundred yards beyond her and pulled over on the berm. When she reached me, I rolled down the window. “I’m not sure we finished our conversation. Is there anything else you want to say?”
She placed her hands on the roof of the car and supported herself for a moment while she caught her breath. I could see sweat collecting in the creases in her neck. “Talk to Sloan’s mom.”
“About what?”
“Her bio-dad.”
“I’ll do that,” I said. “Why are you willing to help now and not before?”
She smiled. “At this point, what do I have to lose?”
39
I made a U-turn and drove back into the heart of Horton Ravine. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and mild with a sky irritatingly empty of clouds. You could check the radar sweep from San Francisco to San Diego and you wouldn’t see even the smallest green freckle that might signify r-a-i-n. I parked the car in Margaret’s drive and made my way up the walk, wondering how she felt now that she’d been robbed of the object of her bloodthirsty fantasies. I had just reached the porch when the front door opened and a kid came out, closing the door behind him. He was a carbon copy of Joey Seay—same jug ears, same furrowed brow. He stopped when he saw me.
“Are you Justin?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
I held out my hand. “Kinsey Millhone,” I said.
“Got it. The private detective.”
“So true,” I said. “Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Is there any way to avoid it?”
“Not really. This will be quick.”
“Good, because I’m due at work. What do you want?”
“I understand you were here the day Sloan’s room was emptied.”