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“Yes. I still have it, if you doubt my word.”
“Did he give any explanation about the disposition of his estate?”
“What’s this about?”
“I’m wondering why Hairl Ta
He snorted as though amused, but his eyes went dead. “What makes you think he was mad?”
“I saw the will.”
“Oh? And how’d you manage that?”
“I went down to the courthouse and looked it up. I checked a couple of other wills at the same time so don’t get the idea that I was picking on your dad. Your grandfather set it up so Jake couldn’t touch a nickel, not even for the two of you.”
“I don’t see the relevance.”
“This is my last day on the job. I leave it to the cops to figure out who killed Violet, but I hate to sign off without knowing why she died.”
“Aren’t those two questions the same thing?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s obvious you have a theory or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I think she was killed for the stash she’d put together so she could run away.”
“What’s that have to do with my father?”
“I’ve been wondering where he got the money to buy the Blue Moon.”
“You’re implying, what-that he killed her for the cash?”
“All I’m asking is how he financed the purchase of the bar.”
“If you want an answer to that question, you better go over to the Moon and ask him. In the meantime, I’m not going to sit here and put up with your half-assed interrogation on a subject you know nothing about.”
“Why don’t you answer the question and save me the trip?”
“To make your life easy?”
“To avoid a subject he might find embarrassing. I think you know more than you’ve told me so far.”
I knew he was angry, but I could see him wrestling with himself. “If it’s any of your fucking business, my mother had a life insurance policy. Dad collected sixty thousand dollars, put half in savings accounts for Ta
By the time I got back to Daisy’s it was 4:00 and I was ready to pack it in. Clearly I’d reached the stage in the investigation where people were not only getting pissed off, but resorting to rudeness, sarcasm, and manhandling. Steve Ottweiler had to be as aware as I was that there was no way to verify his claim about his mother’s life insurance. Jake was never going to tell me which insurance company it was, and after thirty-four years, I couldn’t think how to get the information independently of him. I probably should have gone straight over to Jake’s and pressed him on the point, but in truth I was ever so faintly intimidated by the man. After I left Steve’s office, he had plenty of time to call his dad and tell him what was going on. All Jake had to do was repeat the story Steve had told me and I’d be none the wiser.
I sat down and typed the additional three conversations into my report. Mrs. York, Foley, and Steve Ottweiler. This was strictly make-work. By now it was not so much about being conscientious as it was about giving myself time to think. While my fingers traveled across the keys, my brain was busy with something else. I simply didn’t know what it was. The phone rang just as I was finishing up, and I answered with my attention still riveted to the page. “Hello?”
“Miss Millhone?”
“Yes.”
“This is Ty Eddings. You left a message for me.”
30
Friday, July 3, 1953
Kathy stood behind the dining room door, forking cold Chef Boyardee ravioli from a can. The little pillows of dough were soft and the tomato sauce clung to the surfaces like cream. Di
The problem was that ever since the gym teacher, Miss Carrico, made that remark about Kathy’s losing thirty-five pounds, her mother had been keeping a close eye on her, serving her portions so small she left the table with a stomachache. The first time it happened Kathy thought she’d done it by mistake, but when she’d asked for a second helping, her parents had exchanged a look that made her cheeks burn. It was like they’d been discussing her behind her back and secretly agreed with the teacher, which didn’t seem fair.
When Kathy first told her mother what Miss Carrico had said about how fat she was, her mother had been livid. She’d gone straight to the school principal to complain about the teacher’s lack of tact and her sticking her nose into other people’s business where it didn’t belong. The principal must have turned around and given Miss Carrico a serious talking-to because now she made a point of ignoring Kathy, avoiding the sight of her altogether as though she didn’t exist. Not that Kathy cared. If Miss Carrico tried to make trouble over her PE grade, she intended to tell her mother about the way she acted around Miss Powell, the home economics teacher. When Miss Carrico thought no one was looking, she got all weird and intense. It was almost like she had a crush on the other woman, which Kathy didn’t think was right. She’d talked to her minister about it after one of the Moral Rearmament meetings, and he’d told her he’d look into it, but in the meantime to keep the information “under her hat.” Kathy wasn’t sure how long she was supposed to wait before she took matters into her own hands.
Actually, she thought it was possible Miss Carrico resented the Cramer family for their position in the community. On the second of June, for instance, for Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, the principal had especially asked if Kathy’s dad would bring in their tabletop Ardmore television set, so Kathy’s class could watch the pageant all the way from England. He’d carried the TV into school and set it up right there in her seventh-grade homeroom. All the kids had gathered around to watch the ceremony and afterward, the principal made a point of personally thanking her in front of everyone. Miss Carrico had been standing in the back of the room with a smirk on her face, obviously not realizing Kathy could see straight through to that jealous heart of hers.
By the same token, Kathy hoped the principal’s praise and recognition hadn’t made Liza feel bad. Liza might be prettier and get better grades, but that didn’t make up for the fact that Kathy came from a better family. Her father was a well-known businessman and her mother was often mentioned in the society section of the local paper. Kathy and her parents went to church together every Sunday, Kathy wearing her short white gloves and carrying the white leather Bible she’d been given at Easter. So what if she had to buy her clothes in the chubby department? Her mother said it was all baby fat and she’d turn into a swan. Poor Liza’s mother was divorced and she drank all day long. Kathy didn’t know how Liza could hold her head up, but Livia had explained that girls from broken homes deserved sympathy, not blame. She said Liza was doing the best she could under the circumstances. The important thing was not to lord it over her.