Nevada Barr - Track Of The Cat

Anna suspected she was trying to put her at ease. What surprised her was how well it was working. "I think Gideon misses the good old days when rangers whistled "The Streets of Laredo.' "

Piedmont, creeping along the sides of the room, skulking under the furniture, sprang out to pounce on the hem of Christina's dress. Putting her hand under the fabric, she moved it around creating a mole for him to kill.

It impressed Anna that she put Piedmont 's amusement before the well-being of her garment.

"I want to get Alison a kitten," Christina said. "She needs to learn to be kind because she is bigger, more powerful than something. She needs to have some little life depend on her now. I don't expect she'll ever have a little sister to practice on."

Sadness weighed on Christina's voice and Anna, who'd never much cared for children, found herself wishing Christina could have another. "Alison's the little blond girl on the pink tricycle, isn't she?" Anna asked and the other woman nodded, looking pleased Anna had noticed. "She's a pretty little girl."

Christina said nothing but there was something in her look that made Anna laugh at herself. "Listen to me," she said. "I'm carrying on the tradition. As if pretty were the best and most important thing a little girl could be."

Christina refilled her own glass, then poured Anna more wine. Anna accepted her taking the role of hostess as easily as Christina had assumed it.

"Let me try again," Anna said as she slid down on the floor, her back against the desk, her legs stretched out. "She looks like a sharp, determined, organized little girl. How's that?"

"Perfect!" Christina said, and she actually clapped her hands. Somehow it wasn't phony or coy or childish or any of the things Anna might have thought had the gesture come from someone else. It was charming.

"Alison is terrifyingly organized and she's just turned four last month. Why did you say 'organized'? It's an odd word to describe a child."

"I can see her thinking," Anna explained. "See the little wheels and cogs and gears turning as she plots out her course through the houses."

"She is my light," Christina said. "Everything that is good and worthwhile about me has surfaced in that little person. All the bent and broken bits were left out. Alison means the world to me."

There was an edge of desperation-or determination-in Christina's voice that made Anna think now she was to hear the real reason for the visit. Disappointment-minor, Anna told herself-ached behind her sternum. She wished this had been just a social call. The ache deepened as she remembered the snapshots in her pocket.

The tape clicked to an end. Neither of them moved to turn it over. Christina was looking into Anna's face and, though Anna wanted to look away, she found she couldn't.

"You found the pictures, didn't you?" the woman asked softly.

"Inside the clothes rod in the bedroom closet," Anna replied.

Despite the situation, Christina laughed. "For heaven's sake!" she said. "I'm impressed. You must be a regular Miss Marple."

She was impressed, Anna could tell. She liked it. And she felt a fool for liking it. "You… went into Ranger Drury's and looked through her collection."

"We broke in, yes."

"We?"

"Alison and I."

In spite of herself, Anna smiled. It hardly seemed a deadly duo, this gentle woman and her child. A thought struck Anna: "The dishes and the garbage. You cleaned up."

"The heat made it smell," Christina said simply, as if Sheila could come home and be offended by it.

Anna had more questions, but it seemed if she waited Christina would fill the awkward silences as she had been doing since she arrived. Truth or lies, Anna was curious to see what she would say.

As if I'd know the difference, Anna said to herself. But she thought she would.

"Could I see them?" Christina asked.

Wondering what kind of a cop she was to hand over her best and only evidence to the prime suspect, Anna took the snapshots from her pocket and gave them to Christina. Two women sitting companionably talking of children and music over a glass of wine: it seemed absurd to refuse a request on the grounds of suspected murder.

There were twelve pictures. Christina looked through them slowly. Her eyes filled with tears. Anna got to her feet and fetched a wad of toilet paper from the bathroom. When she came back she didn't settle again to her comfortable place on the carpet but perched vulture-like on the edge of the straight-backed chair. "I haven't any Kleenex," she apologized as she held out the tissue.

"This is fine. Thank you." Christina blew her nose.

Anna was speculating whether or not she had murdered her lover, but when Christina looked up there was such loneliness in her brown eyes Anna found herself saying with honesty as well as compassion: "Those are beautiful photographs."

The simple kindness seemed to undo Christina and the trickle of tears became a river. Anna knew from experience that tears made men nervous. Though she certainly enjoyed them less, they bothered her no more than laughter.

In a minute or two the sobs subsided. Christina took a deep drink of her wine and sighed as if she were breathing out her very soul.

"I thought maybe she was blackmailing you," Anna said. "Though who'd care these days is beyond me. But maybe you wanted to go to seminary, become an Episcopal priest, run for Congress, or Mrs. America. Was she?"

Christina shook her head. "She threatened sometimes. Half kidding you know, wanting to make me 'come out of the closet'. I like it just fine in the closet. But Sheila'd never have done it."

"Because she loved you?"

"No. I don't know that she did love me. Because she was a very ethical person. Painfully so. She used to boast-and it was true in a lot of ways-that she had no morals but she did have ethics. To tell someone else's secrets would not have been an ethical thing to do."

"Why did you break in, search her picture collection?"

"I was afraid if the pictures turned up in her effects they might be made public in some way. Then Erik would find out like he finds out everything. He would use them to prove I was an unfit mother. He'd take Alison from me."

"Erik is Alison's father?"

"Legally."

Anna looked at her questioningly. It had nothing to do with Drury or lions, and she couldn't bring herself to voice mere curiosity.

"After Erik and I had been trying a while we found out his sperm count was too low-practically nil-and what few little guys there were, were pretty poor swimmers. 'Weak specimens' the doctor called them. Alison's daddy is the turkey baster. High tech, though. We had it done in a fancy clinic in San Raphael."

"I take it, it was not an amicable divorce," Anna ventured and Christina laughed bitterly.

"No. Erik was having an affair with his corner office and his mahogany desk at an investment banking firm in San Francisco and I was having an affair with the woman who came to do the stenciling in the nursery.

"Erik had been pretty upset over the sperm count thing even though it really didn't matter much to me. I guess having his wife run off with another woman was more than he could take. He even threatened to kill her. He actually waited at her off ramp and rammed Linda's car with his Toyota. He was just trying to scare us, I think. It worked. Linda moved to Seattle. I lost touch with her after a while."

"Why didn't he get Alison then?"

"He tried but I went on the stand and lied my way out of it. There wasn't any proof. And I guess I didn't look like the judge's idea of one of 'them.' He'll never give up, though."

"He loves Alison that much? Or hates you?"

"Both in his way, I guess. But what he really loves is winning and what he can't stand is losing."

A moment passed in silence. Christina looked through the pictures again but this time there were no tears. When she'd finished, she held them out to Anna.