S is for Silence

“When did you hear Violet was gone?”

“Sunday morning. I didn’t know she was gone gone, but I knew she hadn’t come home. Mr. Padgett came over for lunch after church and he was the one who told my mom.”

“How’d he hear about it?”

“Town the size of Serena Station, everybody knows everything. Maybe someone noticed the car wasn’t parked out front. That would’ve set tongues to wagging.”

“Was there any gossip about who Violet was seeing? Someone must have come under suspicion.”

“Not necessarily. Violet was a tramp, so it could have been anyone. Some guy she picked up in a bar.”

“I gather it didn’t surprise you to think she’d run off.”

“Oh, heck no. Not her.”

“Even though it meant leaving Daisy behind?”

Kathy made a face. “Daisy was a whiny little brat in those days. And look how they lived. The Sullivans were dirt poor, their house was disgusting, and Foley beat Violet up every chance he could. The better question is why she waited as long as she did.”

I drove from Kathy Cramer’s subdivision into Santa Maria proper, where I found a phone booth in the parking lot of a strip mall. I dialed the work number I’d been given for Violet’s brother, and the woman who picked up on the other end said, “Wilcox Construction.”

“Hi. My name’s Kinsey Millhone. I’m trying to reach Calvin Wilcox.”

“May I ask what this is in reference to?”

“His sister.”

A pause. “Mr. Wilcox doesn’t have a sister.”

“Maybe not now, but he did. Would you ask him if he can spare a few minutes? I’d like to talk to him.”

“Hang on and I’ll see if he’s in.”

I figured she was saying that so she could comfortably claim he was “away from his desk,” but the next thing I knew, the man himself picked up the call. “Wilcox.”

I went through my spiel again, trying to be succinct since he sounded like a man who liked to get right to the point.

“If you can make it over here in the next half hour, fine. Otherwise, I can’t do it until early next week.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Wilcox Construction was located out on Highway 166, housed in a prefabricated steel building on a narrow lot surrounded by a chain-link fence. Both exterior and interior were utilitarian. At a desk just inside the door, there was a secretary-receptionist whose responsibilities probably included typing, filing, coffee making, and walking the sleeping German shepherd beside her desk. “He’s the yard dog,” she said, giving him a fond glance. “May look like he’s sleeping on the job, but he’s called into service once the sun goes down. I’m Babs, by the way. Mr. Wilcox is on a call, but he’ll be right out. You want coffee? It’s already made.”

“I better not, but thanks.”

“Well, have a seat in that case.”

She filled her mug from a stainless steel urn, and once she sat down again, her phone gave a chirp. “That’s him. You can go on in.”

Calvin Wilcox was in his early sixties, wearing a short-sleeve denim work shirt and jeans belted under a modest swell of abdomen. I could see the outline of a hard-pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. He had thi

We leaned toward each other across the desk to shake hands. He was a big guy, not tall, but solid. He waited until I sat down and then settled in his swivel chair. He tipped it back in what was probably a typical move, one work boot propped on the edge of his desk. He lifted his arms and laced his fingers above his head, which gave him an air of relaxation and ope

He smiled, watching me with a certain shrewdness evident in his eyes. “My sister, Violet. Here she comes again.”

“Sorry about that. I know the subject comes up every couple of years.”

“I should be used to it by now. What’s that old saying? ‘Nature abhors a vacuum.’ People want closure. Otherwise you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. How long have you worked for Daisy?”

“Not that long.”

“I guess she can spend her money any way she wants, but what’s she hope to accomplish?”

“She wants to find her mother.”

“Yeah, I get that and then what?”

“That depends on where Violet is.”

“Hard to believe it’s still bugging her after all this time.”

“What about you? Does it bother you?”

“Not a bit. Violet did what suited her. Her life was her business. She seldom consulted me, and if I offered her advice, she’d turn around and do just the opposite. I learned to keep my mouth shut.”

“Did she ever talk about Foley beating her?”

“She didn’t have to talk about it. It was obvious. He broke her nose, broke her tooth, broke two ribs. I don’t know why she put up with it. If she’d wanted out, I’d have helped, but she went back time and time again, so I finally gave up.”

“Were you older or younger?”

“Older by two years.”

“Any other siblings?”

“Don’t I wish. Parents get old, it’d be nice to have someone to help shoulder the burden. Violet wasn’t about to do it, that’s for sure.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“No. My father had a series of heart attacks in 1951. Three in rapid succession, the last one fatal. The doctors blamed it on a defect he’d carried since birth. He was forty-eight years old. So far I’ve managed to outlive him by thirteen years. Mother died a couple of years ago, at eighty-four.”

“You’re married or single?”

“Married. How about yourself?”

“Single, but my parents are both gone.”

“You’re fortunate. My mother was in a nursing home for years. Well, let’s call it a ‘facility.’ I wouldn’t label it a home. She used to phone me six and seven times a week, begging me to come get her. Up to me, I’d have done it, but my wife was adamant. She’s a stockbroker. No way would she have given that up in order to take care of Mother. I didn’t blame her, but it was tough.”

“You have children?”

“Four boys, all grown and gone. Two live here in town. I got one in Reno and another one in Phoenix.” He took a quick peek at his watch. “You want to ask about Violet, be quick about it. I got a meeting coming up.”

“Sorry. I get curious about people and I forget myself.”

“All right with me. It’s your call.”

“I take it you and Violet weren’t close?”

“You got that right. Last time I saw her, she came by the office and asked for money that I was dumb enough to give.”

“How much?”

“Two grand. That was the first of July, in case you’re wondering. After she left here, she went over to my mother’s house and hit her up as well. Mother didn’t have much, but Violet managed to wheedle five hundred dollars out of her. Month later, we found out she’d stolen Mother’s good jewelry: diamond bracelets, earrings, two pearl necklaces-the works. Three thousand dollars’ worth we never saw again.”

“How do you know it was her?”

“Mother remembered her asking to use the bathroom, which you could only get to by going through her bedroom. Jewelry box was on the dressing table. Mother didn’t have occasion to open it until her birthday that year when Rachel and I were taking her to di

“Did you report it to the police?”

“I wanted to, but she refused. She said if Violet needed it that bad, she could have it.”

“Had Violet stolen things before?”

“No, but she borrowed money every chance she got, usually small amounts. She’d claim it was for Daisy so we wouldn’t turn her down.”