G Is For Gumshoe

I said, "Well, jump right in, Vera. Agnes Grey died, among other things. I didn't get to bed till after three a.m. How about you?"

Vera crossed to the sinks, her high heels snapping against the ceramic tiles. She turned the water on way too hard and splashed herself. She jumped back. "Shit!" she said.

"Agnes Grey?" Darcy said. She was watching our reflections in the mirror, her expression wary.

"My client's mother," I said. "She dropped dead of a heart attack."

Darcy frowned. "That's weird."

"Actually it was weird, but how did you know?"

"Do you mind?" Vera said to Darcy pointedly. Apparently, she wanted to talk to me alone. It occurred to me belatedly that she and Vera had been discussing me just before I came in. Oh boy.

Darcy shot me an apologetic look. She dried her hands hastily under the wall-mounted blower, blotting the residual water on the back of her skirt. "See you later, gang," she said. She took her purse and departed with a decided air of relief.

The door hadn't closed behind her when Vera turned and looked at me. "I don't appreciate the crap you told Neil last night," she said. Her face was tense, her gaze fiery.

I felt a rush of heat go through me. I needed to pee, but it seemed inappropriate. "Really," I said. "Like what?"

"I am not smitten with him. We're strictly friends and that's all it is. Get it?"

"What are you in such a snit about?"

She leaned against the sink, a hand on her hip. "I introduced you to the man because I thought you'd get along with him, not to have you turn around and… manipulate the circumstances."

"How did I do that?"

"You know how! You told him I had a crush on him and now he's behaving like an idiot."

"What'd he do, break it off?"

"Of course he didn't break it off! He proposed to me last night!"

"He did? Well, that's great! Congratulations. I hope you said yes."

Vera's mouth turned down at the corners and she burst into tears. I was taken aback. For a sophisticated woman, she was bawling like a little kid. I found myself with my arms around her, patting her awkwardly. It's not easy to comfort someone twice your size. She had to hunch down slightly while I raised up on tiptoe. It was not the full California body hug of longtime friends. Contact was limited to the upper portions of our torsos where we were linked like the two bowed wings of a wishbone.

"What am I go

"You might think about getting married," I suggested helpfully.

"I caaaan't."

"Of course you can, Vera. People do it every day."

"I'm too old and too tall and he says he wants kids."

I could feel a laugh bubble up, but I resisted the urge to make a flip remark. I said mothering-type things, "There, there" and "It's all right." Remarkably, it seemed to work. Within a minute, she calmed down to a series of hiccups and sniffs. She let out a big sigh and then blew her nose noisily on a piece of shriveled Kleenex she found in her jumpsuit. She pressed the tissue to her eyes and then she did a quick burbling laugh while she checked her makeup. "When I saw you and Neil with your heads bent together last night I wanted to kill you."

"Yeah, I caught the look. I just wasn't sure what it meant," I said.

"And right about then, Mac started making his speech and next thing I knew you were gone. What was that about?"

I filled her in on (some, but not all of) my night's activities and then quizzed her on hers.

She spent the next few minutes detailing the portion of the banquet I'd missed. Neil had slipped over into Dietz's chair while Mac finished his speech. After-di

"Vera, if I laugh now, I'll end up peeing in my pants." I gave her a quick pat and headed straight to the nearest stall, relieving myself while I talked to her across the top of the cubicle. "What happened to the maid? She must have been mortified," I said. "Her own doctor with his bum hanging out of his pants? My God."

"She was out of there like a shot and that's when he proposed. He started screaming it was my fault. He said if I'd marry him we could grapple on our own floor without all the interruptions-"

"The man's got a point."

"You really think so?"

I flushed the toilet and emerged. "Vera, do me a favor. Just marry the guy. He's a doll. You'll be deliriously happy for eternity. I promise." I washed my hands and dried them, grabbing up my shoulder bag. "Dietz is waiting for me. I gotta go or he'll think I've been kidnapped. I get dibs on maid of honor, but I won't wear dusty rose. Let me know when you set the date." When I left, she was staring after me with a dazed look on her face.

As I passed California Fidelity, I caught sight of Darcy at the file cabinet behind the receptionist's desk. She was barely moving, apparently intent on cooling her fevered brow against the cold metal of the cabinet top where she'd laid her head. I detoured into the office. She managed to raise her eyes without moving her head. "Vera chew your ass out?"

"We're fine. She's getting married. You can be the flower girl," I said. "I need to know what you were talking about when I mentioned that Agnes died. You said it was weird. What was weird?"

"Oh, I wasn't referring to her death," Darcy said. "That's the name of a book."

"A book?"

"Agnes Grey. It's a novel by A

"You went to college in Las Vegas?"

"What's wrong with that? I grew up there. Anyway, I was a lit major and it was the only paper I ever wrote that netted me an A-plus."

"I thought the name was Charlotte Bronte."

"This is a sister. The youngest. Most people only know about the two older ones, Charlotte and Emily."

A chill tiptoed over me like a daddy longlegs. "Emily…"

"She wrote Wuthering Heights."

"Right," I said faintly. Darcy went on talking, waxing eloquent about the Brontes. I was sifting back through Agnes's account of Emily's death, the hapless "Lottie" who was simpleminded and couldn't remember how to get in and out the back door. Was her real name Charlotte? Could Agnes Grey's real name be A

"Kinsey?" Darcy was startled, but I didn't want to stop and explain what was going on. I didn't get it myself.

When I got to my office, Dietz was just hanging up the phone. "Did you talk to Rochelle?" I asked, distracted.

"It's all taken care of. She's hopping in her car and heading straight up. She has a friend who runs a motel on Cabana called the Ocean View. I said we'd meet her there at four. You know the place?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," I said. The Ocean View had been the setting of my last and most enlightening encounter with an ex-husband named Daniel Wade. Not my best day, but liberating after a fashion. What had Agnes told me about Emily? She was killed in an earthquake. Down in Brawley or somewhere else? Lottie was the first to go. Then the chimney fell on Emily. There was more, but I couldn't remember what it was.

Dietz glanced at his watch. "What shall we do till she gets here? You want to pop by your place?"

"Give me a minute to think." I sat down in my client chair and ran my hand through my hair. Dietz had the good sense to hold his tongue and let me ruminate. At this point, I didn't even want to have to stop and bring him up to speed. Could Emily's death have been the event that precipitated Agnes Grey's departure from Santa Teresa? Had she actually been here? If the name Agnes Grey was a phony, then what was her real name? And why the subterfuge?