Sue Grafton - V is for Vengeance

“You must have been delighted.”

“I was. Most of all, I liked the idea of someone living close by. We only have the one car and I was hoping she’d drive me into town now and then. I didn’t realize how seldom she’d be home, though ‘home’ is probably not the right term. She traveled a lot and only wanted the use of the place when she was in the area.”

“How often was that?”

“Every other Saturday.”

In the absence of a dining room, the living room had been called into service, the center taken up with a harvest table big enough to seat ten. The room smelled of a pine-scented cleaning product. I leaned closer to the tabletop, peering at a slant so the light washed over the surface. No smudges and no fingerprints. That was interesting. I flicked a switch and the overhead light came on. I got down on my hands and knees and did an eyeball scan of the floor. By the table leg I found a three-inch T-shaped length of clear plastic, not much thicker than a thread. I held it up so Vivian could see. “Know what this is?”

“Looks like a piece of plastic used to secure the price tags on items of clothing.”

“Exactly,” I said. I put it in my pocket. Under the table leg, I found a second one that I added to the first.

I continued to search, quizzing her as questions occurred to me. The kitchen was immaculate. Counters and windowsills were spotless. Marvin had said Audrey was a neatnik, but when had she had time to scrub the place down? The refrigerator was empty except for the standard items: Tabasco sauce, mustard, ketchup, olives, and mayonnaise, which were stashed in the door. The stove top had been scoured with an S.O.S pad, judging from the residue of blue foam and a few stray fibers of steel wool. The flip-top trash can was lined with a brown paper bag. At the bottom I found a crusty cleaning rag, gray with dirt and smelling of the same pine scent that permeated the rest of the house. Under the rag I found remnants of two S.O.S pads reduced to nubs. I’m sometimes a whiz when it comes to clues.

“Did she have visitors?” I asked.

“I’m sure she did. Twice a month I saw a van pull in a short time after she arrived. She’d go around and open the garage and have the driver pull into the garage. If visitors went in and out the back door, I wouldn’t have seen them from my house. There was also a white panel truck over there at the same time.”

“Quite a crowd,” I said.

“Nights she was here and the lights were on, she made a point of closing the venetian blinds.”

“Guess she didn’t want you peeping in.”

“No danger of that. Rafe and I are usually in bed by ten. She was a night owl. Sometimes I’d see lights burning into the wee hours. I don’t sleep well, which means I’m up two or three times.”

“Do you remember when was she here last?”

“I’d say Sunday or Monday night, but that can’t be right. According to the paper, she was found Sunday afternoon so I must be mistaken.”

A survey of the under-the-counter cabinets revealed a stack of big cast-iron skillets and cheap six-quart saucepans. In the upper cabinets there were numerous tumblers and two sets of melamine dinnerware. One drawer was packed with a jumble of kitchen utensils and another held assorted flatware. There was no dishwasher and no disposal, but I found an adequate supply of dish soap in a squirt bottle under the sink. While the shelves in the reach-in pantry were bare, numerous sticky circles on the otherwise clean surface suggested the recent presence of industrial-sized canned goods. For a woman who didn’t cook or entertain, Audrey had been prepared to feed the multitudes.

“What happened when the first six months’ rent were up?”

“She stopped by one afternoon and paid for the next six.”

“Always in cash?”

She nodded. “I suppose I should have asked her about it, but it really wasn’t any of my business. At least I didn’t have to worry about a check not clearing.”

“Didn’t you wonder why she carried so much cash?”

“I can guess what you’re getting at. You think she might have been dealing drugs. I read the papers like everyone else and I know about meth labs and marijuana farms. If I’d thought she was doing something illegal, I’d have called the police.”

“Good for you. Sometimes people get so busy minding their own business, they forget to do what’s right.”

I went into the bedroom, which was crudely outfitted with a full-size mattress, two pillows, and a pile of blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed. The closet was empty, not even one wire hanger left on the rod. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. The lingering scent of White Shoulders cologne was unmistakable.

I made two more circuits of the room, talking to Vivian over my shoulder. “Let me know if you see something I’ve missed.”

By then, the idea of finding her address book seemed laughable since there were no personal items at all. I was satisfied I’d seen everything, though I hadn’t dug up the dead flower beds or tapped my way around the walls in search of secret panels.

I scribbled Marvin’s address on the back of a second card. “This is her fiancé’s address. If mail comes for her, could you forward it to him?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“You want me to lock up?”

“No point. I’ll have the locks changed as soon as I can get someone out. No telling who else has a key.”

She walked me out to my car.

I said, “I appreciate your being so nice about this.”

“I don’t want to protect the woman if what she did was against the law. I’ll admit I was a bit uneasy, which is why I kept an eye on her. I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong, and when it came right down to it, I didn’t have anything concrete to report.”

“Understood. You can’t call the police because someone’s drawing the blinds,” I said. “When your husband comes home, would you ask if he has anything to add?”

“I’ll ask, but he won’t be much help. I was the one who dealt with Audrey. She was a nice woman, by the way. I thought her schedule was odd, but aside from that, I had no quarrel with her.”

“My client’s in the same boat,” I said. “If you think of anything else, would you give me a call? My office number’s on my card and my home phone’s on the back.”

“Of course. I hope you’ll let me know what you learn.”

“I’ll do that, and thanks for your help.”

I returned to my car and fired up the engine. I pulled out of the cul-de-sac and turned right on Edna Road. I kept an eye on the rearview mirror, and once I was out of sight of the house, I pulled onto to the berm and took the pack of index cards from my shoulder bag. I wrote down what I’d learned, which didn’t amount to much. Audrey Vance was a cipher and as such, she was getting on my nerves. When I finished making notes, I put the car in gear and returned to the 101, arriving in Santa Teresa at 1:05. While the trip felt like a waste of time, I didn’t write it off altogether. Sometimes coming up with nothing is a form of information in itself.

I stopped by Marvin’s on my way through town, hoping he’d be home. He answered my knock with a paper napkin tucked under his chin. He removed the napkin and crumpled it in one hand. “This is a nice surprise. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“I’m interrupting your lunch.”

“Not at all. Come on in.”

“I wondered if you’d had a chance to scare up the old phone bills.”

“I pulled the file. Have you had lunch?”

“I’ll grab something on my way back to the office.”

“You should have a bite to eat. I made a big pot of soup. Chicken noodle with lots of fresh vegetables thrown in. I vary the soup from week to week depending on what looks good at the farmer’s market. We can talk in the kitchen.”