Sue Grafton - L is for Lawless

"This is fine," I said. "Can I help with anything?"

"Oh no, honey. Go ahead and get your shower. You can keep that robe on 'til your clothes is done. Won't take long with these old machines. My friend, Freida Green, has new and it takes her three times as long to run a load through and uses twicet the water. Soon as I'm done with this, I'm going to put some corn bread together. I hope you like to eat."

"Absolutely. I'll be out shortly and give you a hand."

The shower was a mixed blessing. The water pressure was paltry, the hot and cold fluctuating wildly in response to cycles of the washing machine. I did manage to scrub myself thoroughly, washing my hair in a cumulus cloud of soapsuds, lathering and rinsing until I felt fresh again. I dried myself off and pulled on Helen's robe. I slipped into my Reeboks, my fastidious streak preventing me from walking around barefoot on floors only marginally clean. I'm generally not vain about my appearance, but I could hardly wait to get back into my own clothes.

Before returning to the kitchen, I used my telephone credit card to put in a long-distance call to Henry. He was apparently out somewhere, but his machine picked up. I said, "Henry, this is Kinsey. I'm in Louisville, Kentucky. It's after one o'clock here and I've got a flight out at seven. I don't know what time we'll be heading for the airport, but I should be here for the next couple of hours. If it's possible, I need to have you meet me at the airport. I'm almost out of cash and I don't have a way to get my car out of hock. I can try borrowing the money here, but these people don't seem all that dependable. If I don't hear from you before I leave, I'll call you as soon as I get to Los Angeles." I checked the telephone number written on the round cardboard disk in the middle of the dial, reciting Helen's number to him before I hung up. I ran a comb through my hair and moved back into the kitchen, where Helen put me to work setting the kitchen table.

Ray and Laura came back with my blazer, in a clear plastic cleaning bag, and an armload each of groceries, which we unpacked and put away. I hung my blazer on the knob just inside the bedroom door. Laura followed me, moving on into the bathroom to take her shower. The wash must have been done because I could hear the dryer rumbling against the wall. As soon as the load was dry, I'd pull my clothes out and get dressed.

In the meantime, Helen showed me how to peel and mash the yams while she cut apples and onions into quarters and put them in the frying pan with butter. Like a fly on the wall, I kept myself quiet, listening to Ray and his mother chat while she put supper together. "Freida Green's house got broke into here about four months ago. That's when I had all them burglar bars put on. We had a neighborhood meeting with these two police officers, told us what to do in case of attack. Freida and her friend, Minnie Paxton, took a self-defense course. Said they learned how to scream and how to kick out real hard sideways. The point is to break a fellow's kneecap and take him down. Freida was practicing and fell flat on her back. Cracked her tailbone big as life. Minnie laughed so hard she nearly peed herself 'til she saw how bad Freida was hurt. She had to set on a bag of ice for a month, poor thing."

"Well, I don't want to hear about you trying to kick some guy."

"No, no. I wouldn't do that. Makes no sense for an old woman like me. Old people can't always depend on physical strength. Even Freida said that. That's why I had all them locks put in. Summertimes, I used to leave my doors standing open to let the breeze come through. Not no more. No sir."

"Hey, Ma. Before I forget. You have any mail here for me? I think my buddy in California might have sent me a package or a letter in care of this address."

"Well, yes. Now you mention it, I did receive something and set it aside. It come quite some time ago. I believe it's here somewhere, if I can recollect where I put it. Take a look in that drawer yonder under all the junk."

Ray opened the drawer, pawing through odds and ends: lamp cords, batteries, pencils, bottle caps, coupons, hammer, screwdriver, cooking utensils. A handful of envelopes was crammed in at the back, but most were designated "Occupant." There was only one piece of personal mail, addressed to Ray Rawson with no return address. He squinted at the postmark on the envelope. "This is it," he said. He tore it open and pulled out a sympathy card with a black-and-white photograph of a graveyard pasted on the front. Inside, the message read:

And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shah bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. Matthew 16:19.

Thinking of you in your hour of loss.

On the back of the card, a small brass key was taped. Ray pulled it off, turning it over in his hand before he passed it to me. I studied first one side and then the other just as he had. It was an inch and a half long. The word Master was stamped on one side and the number M550 on the other. Shouldn't be hard to remember. The number was my birthdate in abbreviated form. I said, "Probably for a padlock."

"What about the key you have?"

"It's in the bedroom. I'll get it as soon as Laura's finished in there."

Supper was almost on the table when Laura finally emerged. It looked as though she'd made a special effort with her hair and makeup despite the fact her grandmother couldn't see all that well. While serving dishes were being filled at the stove, I stepped into the bedroom and picked up my Swiss Army knife from the pile of my belongings on the bed table. I slipped the jacket from the cleaners bag and used the small scissors to snip the stitches I'd put in the inside shoulder seam. I worked the key from the hole. This one was heavy, a good six inches long with an elongated round shaft. I held it closer to the table lamp, curious if this was also a Master. Lawless was stamped on the shaft, but there were no other identifying marks that I could see. Master padlocks I knew about. A Lawless I'd never heard of. Might be a local company or one that had since gone out of business.

I returned to the kitchen table, where I sat down and handed the key to Ray.

"What's that for?" Laura asked as she took her seat.

"I'm not sure, but I think it goes with this one," Ray said. He laid the skeleton key beside the smaller key in the middle of the table. "This one Johnny left taped to the inside of his safe. Chester found it this week when they were cleaning out the apartment."

"Those are connected to the stash?"

"I hope so. Otherwise, we're out of luck," he said.

"How come?"

"Because it's the only link we have. Unless you have an idea where to look for a pile of money forty-some years after it was hid."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," she said.

"Me neither. I was hoping Kinsey would help, but it looks like we're running out of time," he said, and then turned to his mother. "You want me to say grace, Ma?"

Why did I feel guilty? I hadn't done anything.

The supper was a lavish testimony to old-fashioned southern cooking. This was the first food I'd had in days that wasn't saturated with additives and preservatives. The sugar, sodium, and fat content left something to be desired, but I'm not exactly pious where food is concerned. I ate with vigor and concentration, only vaguely aware of the conversation going on around me until Ray's voice went up. He had put his fork down and was staring at his daughter with a look of horror and dismay.

"You did what?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"When did you talk to her?"

I saw the color come up in Laura's face. "When we first got here," she said defensively. "You saw me go in the other room. What did you think I was doing? I was on the phone."