“I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
“No need. It’s not important. I’ll talk to him on Monday.”
Sloan made no move to leave.
“Is there anything else?”
“No, sorry. I’ll let you go.”
Lauren moved to the door and held it opened, embarrassed to be so pointed in encouraging the girl to go. Sloan gave her a quick smile and retreated to the porch. Lauren closed the door and stood for a moment with her forehead resting against the frame. The nightmare was just beginning and she was already caught in the horror of it.
She grabbed her car keys and proceeded to the garage. She slid into the BMW, turned the key in the ignition, and backed out of the driveway. She did a quick turn onto the street and straightened the steering wheel as she headed toward the club. Half a block down, she passed Sloan, with Butch straining at his leash. Sloan gave her a cheery wave.
Lauren returned the wave halfheartedly in the rearview mirror, as though Sloan might take note of her acknowledgment. Once she’d turned the corner, though Lauren wasn’t aware of it, Sloan turned on her heel with a purpose and walked back to the house.
11
Wednesday, September 20, 1989
Poppy’s stepmother continued down the hall. “Would you like iced tea?”
“If it’s no trouble,” I said. With any meeting, the offer of tea or coffee ensures more time together. If you’re not offered “refreshments,” chances are you’ll be in and out the door in ten minutes or less.
When we reached the kitchen, she paused to speak to the woman who was scouring the sink. “Q, sweetie. Could I ask you to fix us a couple of glasses of iced tea?”
“Q sweetie” was a white woman in her sixties, wearing a red bandana tied across her head like Cinderella. She had a prominent nose and a pugnacious lower jaw. “Can do,” she said. “Lemon and sugar?”
“That would be nice. We’ll be in the family room.”
We crossed the hall and she showed me into a spacious glassed-in side porch, comfortably done up with rattan furniture. The sturdy cushions were covered in a geometric pattern of black and red. She settled at one end of the couch and I took a seat in the chair adjacent.
“I’m guessing you’re looking for Poppy in relation to Fritz McCabe,” she said. “When I read about his release, I wondered if that unfortunate business would open up old wounds.”
I could have kissed her for saving me the awkward process of getting down to business. “Apparently so. Somebody seems to have it in for him, and his mother asked me to look into it. Do you know Lauren and Hollis?”
“He handles our investments through the wealth management department at our bank,” she replied. “Lauren and I have served together on a number of committees. Both are lovely. What do you mean, someone has it in for Fritz? That sounds ominous.”
“The details are complicated and I really can’t go into it without Lauren’s okay.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to violate a confidence. How does Poppy fit in?”
“I’m hoping she’ll have an insight. Do you know if she’s still in touch with kids she went to school with?”
“I’m sure she is, at least with some. Who have you talked to so far?”
“Iris Lehmann, who wasn’t exactly forthcoming. In truth, this is a fishing expedition. Poppy happened to be next on my list. I take it she’s here in town.”
“She’s in a cottage near the beach.”
As she rattled off the address, I reached in my bag and took out my index cards. She recited the phone number as well. I made a note of the information.
“Will she be home now or does she work?”
“Oh, she’ll be home. She’s self-employed.”
I said, “Ah.” Something in the woman’s tone suggested self-employment, in Poppy’s case, was synonymous with her being a shiftless layabout. “How much do you remember about Sloan Stevens’s death?”
“I read about it in the papers like everyone else. Coverage was extensive, especially during the trial. That’s all we talked about. We were in a state of shock—the whole community. These were good kids. Or so we thought. There’s not a parent alive who didn’t shudder at what happened to that poor girl. My husband was horrified. He’d known her all her life.”
“What about you? Did you know her?”
“I knew who she was. I wasn’t personally acquainted with the family.”
“Did you have children at Climp?”
“My son graduated the year before. I should probably mention Sherman’s first wife, Emmie, walked out on him about that time, leaving him to deal with the aftermath on his own.”
“That must have been hard on Poppy.”
“She shut right down. Refused to talk about any of it. Still won’t.”
“You’re referring to the murder or her mother leaving?”
“I’m not sure she can separate the two. She’d been suspended from school because of a cheating incident and that was upheaval enough. Sloan’s death was devastating; a blight on so many lives. Of the young people involved, none of them have turned out well. One way or another, they’ve all been marked by the tragedy.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” I said. “I understand Austin Brown is still at large.”
“It’s hard to imagine him as a fugitive. I won’t say I’m sympathetic, but he thought he was going to be a prominent attorney like everyone else in his family and where is he today?” Her question was meant to be rhetorical, but she paused before she went on. “Fritz, as you know, spent the last eight years in prison, getting into trouble and suffering the consequences. Bayard Montgomery doesn’t work. In fact, he doesn’t do much of anything. His father left him a fortune, which has insulated him from the necessity for a job. When you’re not obliged to support yourself, you’re essentially rudderless. Then there’s Iris, who hasn’t amounted to a hill of beans. I don’t know about Troy.”
“He’s an auto mechanic.”
“Supporting my point,” she said. “My former husband was an estate attorney and when Troy’s father died, he did what he could to salvage the situation. The Rademakers were good Catholics and of the five boys, Troy was the last one at home. His father was a draftsman with an architectural firm. He died of a sudden heart attack, fifty-two years old, with mortgage insurance, but not much else. Mary Frances was able to pay off the house and she did what she could. Troy’s brothers had all finished college by then and Troy understood he was on his own. I think that’s why he was tempted to cheat, to make sure he could keep his grades up, protecting his scholarship. When the scandal erupted at Climp, that was the end of that. Without financial aid, he had no chance for a decent education. Of course, the years in prison didn’t help his cause. A good mechanic is a treasure, but I’m sure Troy had a different vision of his future.”
“What about Poppy?”
Loretta waved a hand. “She’s a mess. It might sound harsh, but it’s the truth. Both of her sisters are high-achievement types. Adrienne’s a pediatrician and Cary does R and D for Pfizer pharmaceuticals. That’s research and development.”