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Uh-oh.
I watched her survey the street, her body language suggesting her hypervigilance. Her gaze swept the block to the corner and then swung back and fixed on Henry’s car. She stood and stared as though she could see me through the sunscreen. I shot six more frames, taking advantage of the moment, and then held my breath, waiting to see if she’d cross the street. I couldn’t very well start the car and drive away without first removing the sunscreen, thus exposing myself to view. Even if I managed that, I’d have to pass right by her and the game would be up.
31 SOLANA
Solana sat in the old man’s kitchen, smoking one of Tiny’s cigarettes, a guilty pleasure she allowed herself on rare occasions when she needed to concentrate. She’d poured herself a tot of vodka to sip while she counted and bundled up the cash she’d amassed. Some was money she’d kept in a savings account, acquired over the years from other jobs. She had $30,000 that had been happily earning interest while she worked in her current position. She’d spent the past week selling off the jewelry she’d collected from Gus as well as her prior clients. Some pieces she’d held for years, worried that the items might have been reported as stolen. She’d run an ad in the classified pages of the local paper, indicating a sale of “estate jewelry,” which sounded hoity-toity and refined. She’d had many calls from the bloodhounds who routinely combed that section, looking for a bargain born of someone else’s desperation. She’d had the jewelry appraised and she’d carefully calculated selling prices that would be tempting without generating questions about how she came by Edwardian and Art Deco diamond rings and bracelets by Cartier. Not that it was anybody’s business, but she’d invented a number of stories: a rich husband who died and left her with nothing but the jewelry he’d given her over the years; a mother who’d smuggled the bracelets and rings out of Germany in 1939; a grandmother who’d fallen on hard times and had no choice but to sell the treasured heirloom necklaces and earrings she’d been given by her own mother years before. People liked sob stories. People paid more for an item with a tragedy attached. These personal accounts of hardship and yearning imbued the rings and bracelets, brooches and pendants, with a value that exceeded the gold content and the stones.
She’d called the gallery owner every day for a week, asking if she’d located a buyer for the paintings. She suspected the woman was just putting her off, but she couldn’t be sure. In any event, Solana couldn’t afford to alienate her. She wanted the money. Gus’s antique furniture she’d sold piece by piece to various high-end dealers around town. He spent his days in the living room or his bedroom and didn’t seem to notice that the house was slowly being stripped. From those sales she’d netted a little over $12,000, which was not as much as she’d hoped. Adding that sum to the $26,000 the old man still had tucked away in combined savings, plus the $250,000 she was borrowing from the local bank as a loan against the house, she’d have $288,000, plus the 30 grand in her private account. The $250,000 wasn’t in her hands quite yet, but Mr. Larkin at the bank had told her the loan was approved and it was only a matter now of picking up the check. Today she had personal shopping to do, leaving Tiny to babysit Gus.
Tiny and the old man got along well. They liked the same television shows. They shared the same thick pizzas, loaded with junk, and the plastic tubs of cheap cookies she bought at Trader Joe’s. She’d taken lately to letting them smoke in the living room though it a
She packed the cash in a duffel that she kept in the back of her closet. Once she was dressed, she checked her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She looked good. She was wearing a business suit, dark blue and plain, with a simple blouse underneath. She was a respectable woman, interested in settling her affairs. She took her purse and paused in the living room on her way to the front door.
“Tiny.”
She had to say his name twice because he and the old man were engrossed in a TV show. She picked up the remote and muted the volume on the set. He looked up with surprise, irritated at the interruption. She said, “I’m going out. You stay here. Do you understand me? Don’t go anywhere. I’m counting on you to look after Mr. Vronsky. And keep the door locked unless there’s a fire.”
He said, “Okay.”
“Don’t answer the door to anyone. I want you here when I get back.”
“Okay!”
“And no back talk.”
She took the freeway out to La Cuesta, to the shopping mall she liked. She was especially fond of Robinson’s Department Store, where she bought her makeup, her clothing, and occasional household goods. Today she was shopping for suitcases for her upcoming departure. She wanted new luggage, handsome and expensive to mark the new life she was entering. It was almost like a trousseau, which she didn’t think young women set much store by these days. Your trousseau was everything fresh, carefully assembled and packed before you left on your honeymoon.
As she entered the store, there was a young woman coming out who held the door politely, allowing Solana to pass through. Solana glanced at her and then looked away, but not quickly enough. The woman’s name was Peggy something-maybe Klein, she thought-the granddaughter of a patient Solana had cared for until she died.
The Klein woman said, “Athena?”
Solana ignored her and walked into the store, heading for the escalator. Instead of letting the matter drop, the woman followed her in, calling after her in a strident voice. “Wait just a minute! I know you. You’re the woman who looked after my grandmother.”
She moved swiftly, hard on Solana’s heels, grabbing at her arm. Solana turned on her savagely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Solana Rojas.”
“Bullshit! You’re Athena Melanagras. You stole thousands of dollars from us and then you-”
“You’re mistaken. It must have been somebody else. I never laid eyes on you or anybody else in your family.”
“You fucking liar! My grandmother’s name was Esther Feldcamp. She died two years ago. You raided her accounts and you did worse, as you well know. My mother filed charges, but you were gone by then.”
“Get away from me. You’re delusional. I’m a respectable woman. I’ve never stolen a cent from anyone.” Solana got on the escalator and faced forward. The moving stairs carried her upward as the woman hung on to her from one step down.
The Klein woman was saying, “Someone help! Call the police!” She sounded deranged and others had turned to stare.
“Shut up!” Solana said. She turned and shoved her.
The woman stumbled down another step but clung to Solana’s arm like an octopus. At the top of the escalator, Solana tried to step away, but she ended up dragging the woman through the sportswear department. A clerk at the cash register watched with mounting concern as Solana took the Klein woman’s fingers and prized them off one by one, bending her index finger back until she shrieked.
Solana punched her once in the face, then shook herself free and hurried away. She tried not to run because ru