Sue Grafton - S is for Silence

“Sounds ruthless.”

“Again, that’s a matter of semantics. I’d say ‘determined,’ but it sometimes amounts to the same thing. It about broke my heart that she left without saying good-bye. Then again, I had to say ‘Go and God bless.’ I wasn’t that articulate at fourteen, but that’s how I felt. I couldn’t bear it for my sake, but I was glad for her. Do you know what I mean? She saw a chance and she took it. A door flew open and she zipped right through. I admired her for that.”

“You must have missed her.”

“It was awful at first. We always talked about everything and suddenly she was gone. I was crushed.”

“What’d you do?”

“What could I do? I learned to get by on my own.”

“She never got in touch?”

“No, but I was so sure she would. Even if it was a postcard with one line, or no message at all. A postmark would have been sufficient. Anything to let me know she’d made it to wherever. I used to imagine her in Hawaii, or Vermont-someplace completely different than this. I haunted the mailbox for months, but I guess she couldn’t take the chance.”

“I don’t see how a postcard could have put her in jeopardy.”

“You’re wrong about that. Sonia, the woman at the post office, would’ve spotted it when she was sorting the mail. I wouldn’t have told a soul, but word would’ve gotten out. Sonia was a blabbermouth, which Violet well knew.”

“You were the last person who had any substantial contact with her.”

“I know and I’ve thought about that night. It runs like a loop in my head. You ever get a song on your brain and no matter what you do, it keeps playing and playing? That’s how it is with her. Even now. Well, maybe not so much now. The images do fade, but you know what? I smell violet cologne and bang, she’s there again. It brings tears to my eyes.”

“Did it ever cross your mind something might have happened to her?”

“You mean, foul play? People talked about that, but I didn’t believe it for a minute.”

“Why not? You’d seen what Foley did to her. Didn’t it occur to you she might have come to grief?”

She shook her head. “I thought it was something else. I was there earlier that day and saw these brown paper bags sitting on the chair. I recognized some of her favorite things on top and I asked her what she was doing. She said she’d cleaned out her closet and the stuff was going to the Goodwill. Well, that seemed looney even at the time. Later-this was after she was gone-it occurred to me that she’d been packing.”

“To go where?”

“I don’t know. A friend’s house? There must have been some place.”

I blinked. “Did she say anything to that effect?”

“Not a word. Foley was gone-I don’t know where-and I’d gone over to the house to hang out. She went on talking about something else so I let it drop.”

“How come this is the first I’ve heard of it? I’ve read all the articles about Violet, but I didn’t see a reference to any bags of clothes.”

“I don’t know what to say. I told the sheriff’s deputies, but they acted like they didn’t want to hear. By then they were busy quizzing Foley about where he was on Saturday night. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I figured since she hadn’t mentioned it, she didn’t want anyone to know.”

“But you had to think someone would have been in touch with the authorities once word got out that she was considered a missing person. Surely someone could have contacted the police without compromising her safety.”

“Exactly, but the papers ran the story twice and no one came forward, so then I figured I must have made a mistake. She might have left town instead.”

“And that’s what you told them?”

“Well, no. I got worried that if they thought she’d run off, they’d put up road blocks or something.”

“What for? She was an adult. If she left of her own accord, they’d have no right to interfere. Cops aren’t in the business of chasing runaway spouses, assuming that’s what she did.” I was trying not to sound accusatory. She’d been fourteen years old and the account she was giving me was her adolescent reasoning, untempered by later maturity or insight.

“Oh. I guess what you’re saying makes sense, but I didn’t understand it at the time. Foley was a basket case by then, and I didn’t want him hearing about it either, for fear he’d go after her.”

“But this was what, five or six days later? She could have been in Canada by then.”

“Exactly. I thought the bigger head start she had, the safer she’d be.”

Inwardly I was rolling my eyes. “It didn’t bother you that your silence left Foley on the hot seat?”

“He put himself there. I didn’t do anything to him.”

“He’s always maintained she ran off. You could have backed him up.”

“Why would I help him? He beat her up for years and no one ever said a word. She finally got away from him and good for her. He could stew in his own juices as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t going to lift a hand.”

“I’m curious why you’d tell me when you never mentioned it before. Reporters must have asked.”

“I wasn’t under any obligation to them. For one thing, I don’t like journalists. What do they call themselves… ‘investigative reporters.’ Oh, please. Like they think they’ll get a Pulitzer out of the deal. They’re rude, and half the time they treated me like I was on the witness stand. All they cared about was selling papers and promoting themselves.”

“What about the sheriff’s department? You didn’t think to go back and set the record straight?”

“No way. By then they’d made such a federal case of it I was scared to say a word. I’m willing to admit it now because I’m fond of Daisy and I’m glad she’s doing this.”

I thought about it briefly, wondering how this fit in with what I knew. “Something else came up today. Winston Smith told me he saw her car out on New Cut Road that night. This was sometime before the fireworks ended because he could hear ‘em in the distance. He didn’t see Violet or the dog, but he knew the Bel Air. I can’t understand why she wasn’t gone by then if she’d left the house at six fifteen.”

Liza shook her head. “I can’t help you there. How does that fit in?”

“I have no idea.”

“So why didn’t he bring it up before? You talk about me keeping quiet. He could have said something years ago.”

“He did. He mentioned it to Kathy and she shrugged it off. It was one of those occasions where the longer he kept quiet, the harder it was for him to speak up. If she’d given him any encouragement, he might have passed the information on.”

Liza’s expression held a tinge of distaste. “I’m not sure how much credence you can give him. He and Kathy are having a hard time. He’d probably say anything to make her look bad.”

“Maybe so, but the point is it shores up Foley’s claim.”

“I never said Foley killed her. Just the opposite.”

“But a lot of people thought he did. His life has been ruined. The point is, with the car all the way out there and him at the park, how’s he going to kill her and get away with it?”

“Dumb luck, I guess.”

“I’m serious.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant.”

“Am I overlooking something here?”

Her gaze shifted to the floor and I could see her running the possibilities through her mind. “Not that I believe this, but just for the sake of argument, what if she was already dead by then?”

“That’s not out of the question,” I said. “But if Foley was the one who killed her, how’d he pull it off? He was at the park until the fireworks ended, then he went to the Moon. How’s he going to get out there, get rid of her body, and then dispose of the Bel Air. He doesn’t have transportation because he’s traded in his truck and she’s driving the only car they own.”