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There was an old banged-up Chevy truck sitting next to a well-kept Camry in the driveway, a clean, bright blue. Marci’s car? Very likely. “I guess Marci doesn’t mind the hoedown front yard since she’s here. I wonder if she spent the night.”
Lou Lou said, “That’s why Mick called in with the putrid throat. Morning sex.”
“That seems pretty cold,” Elizabeth said, “what with her mother sedated in bed, suspected of murdering her father.”
They walked up the weed-infested path to the front of the 1940s bungalow. It was a single story with a small footprint, probably considered quaint and charming thirty years ago, but tired and run-down now, in need of fresh flowers and paint. The draperies were drawn over the wide front window and the two narrow windows beside it. Mary Lisa marched up to the front door and banged loudly.
She banged again, at least half a dozen times.
Finally they heard a shout. “Hey, what do you want? Go away!”
Lou Lou murmured, “He sounds a bit testy.”
Mary Lisa pounded some more. “Let him.”
The door flew back. Mick Maynard stood in the doorway, his jeans looking like he’d just pulled them on, the zipper halfway up, the button at the waist unfastened. He wasn’t wearing jockeys or anything else under the jeans, just his muscular body, a bit of black chest hair, and a thick morning beard. He scratched his belly, drawing their eyes down to his fingers, and slowly, let a grin-no, a smirk-replace his pissed-off look. “Well, ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure? Are you from the PTA, here for a contribution? Or maybe you’re a very late welcome wagon?”
“I’m Mary Lisa Beverly. Hop said you called in sounding all putrid. You’re some fast healer.”
The smirk was in full bloom. “To get better, all one needs is proper motivation.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. We’re here to see Marci. Is she here?”
“Oh yeah, I know who you are-Little Miss Soap Opera Star. Why do you want to speak to her? What the hell do you have to do with anything? Where’s the police chief?” He stepped out on the front porch and glanced around, stepped back. “Just you three little piggies here to see the big bad wolf?” He laughed. “No, I guess that’s Jack, isn’t it?” He turned, shouted, “Marci, we’ve got some ladies from the Junior League here who want to interrogate you.” Then, suddenly, he twisted back to them, and without another word, he slammed the door in their faces. They heard it lock. Mary Lisa would swear she heard him laugh.
“Well,” Lou Lou said to the dump of a yard, “at least he has very nice abs, don’t you think?”
Mary Lisa kicked at a hubcap next to the overgrown path. “This doesn’t happen in the movies.”
Elizabeth said, “It’s too bad we’re civilians, so we can’t exactly cuff him or force our way in. What do we do now, Mary Lisa?”
“Well, there’s still Olivia Hildebrand. I really do want to talk to her about my mother.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Elizabeth said.
The Hildebrand house was a pale yellow gem set in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with wide yards, well maintained and lovingly tended. Deputy Susan Randall opened the door on the first knock. “Mary Lisa! What are you doing here?” She stared around Mary Lisa at Elizabeth and Lou Lou.
“Hi, Susan.” Mary Lisa quickly introduced Susan to Lou Lou and Elizabeth. “Do you think it’s possible for us to speak to Mrs. Hildebrand for a couple of minutes?”
“Well, I don’t know, Mary Lisa. I mean, the chief didn’t say anything about your coming-”
“She and my mom are so very close, Susan, you know that. I mean, my mom visited her last night, right? I wanted to check on her, you know, see how she’s feeling.”
Elizabeth gently and slowly pushed forward, making Deputy Randall back up. “I know it’s a huge favor, but Mary Lisa really is worried about her mother. She’s been going through all this with her, as you know.”
“Well, yeah, I guess it’d be all right. But not long, okay? She still might be asleep. She hasn’t come down yet.”
Mary Lisa realized she’d never before been in the Hildebrand house. Through all the years, Olivia had always been the one to visit her mother. They stopped in the middle of the large entryway with a skylight two stories overhead.
Mary Lisa supposed she was upstairs in the master bedroom. Without asking, they all headed for the main staircase and took them up two at a time.
She looked down at Deputy Randall, who was standing next to another female deputy Mary Lisa recognized but didn’t know. She smiled at both of them, gave a little wave. Then she knocked lightly on the door, and opened it.
She wished she hadn’t.
FIFTY-SIX
No one screamed. They stood in the doorway, staring at Olivia Hildebrand hanging from one of the beautifully painted oak ceiling beams, a vanity chair on its side beneath her.
Mary Lisa ran to her and lifted her by her thighs as best she could to relieve the awful pressure twisting her neck. She wasn’t going to let her die. She heaved the woman up, felt the taut rope ease. “Lou Lou, Elizabeth, quick, help me get her down. Hurry!”
Elizabeth turned over the chair Mrs. Hildebrand had stood on and then had kicked away, and climbed up on it. “No, I still can’t reach the knot.” She felt for a pulse in Mrs. Hildebrand’s throat, knowing there wouldn’t be one. Elizabeth hadn’t seen violent death since she’d covered a bank robbery in Venice Beach nearly a year before, but she knew that, now as then, this human being was dead and there was nothing to do for her except to help protect her dignity. Her throat felt dry and cool, too cool. She looked at Mary Lisa’s set face, her arms still around Mrs. Hildebrand’s legs, and back at Lou Lou, who seemed frozen, her eyes filled with horror. “I’m sorry, guys, she’s dead. Her skin’s chilled. She’s been dead a long time.” She climbed back down, laid her hand lightly on Mary Lisa’s shoulder, but Mary Lisa was shaking her head.
“No, she can’t be dead. Cut her down, Elizabeth, please cut her down. She’s hurt bad, I know she’s hurt real bad. Hurry, please, hurry, she’s heavy and I don’t know how much longer Lou Lou and I can hold her up. Lou Lou, help me.”
“No, Mary Lisa, Lou Lou,” Elizabeth said, her hand on their shoulders, “we can’t touch her. Even if I could cut her down, I know that it’s the wrong thing to do. This is a crime scene now and we don’t want to touch anything. I’m sorry, but you have to let her go. That’s right, Lou Lou, call Jack, then call 911. And get the deputies downstairs.”
Lou Lou raced out of the bedroom, her cell in her hand.
Mary Lisa still held Mrs. Hildebrand. Tears were streaming down her face. “I can’t let her go, Elizabeth. Don’t you see? The pain would be so bad if I let her loose. I can’t.”
They heard Lou Lou yelling for the deputies outside, and then they heard her on her cell phone.
“Please, Elizabeth, cut her down. She’s heavy. I don’t know how much longer I can hold her up. I can’t let go, Elizabeth, she’ll break her neck if I let go. Please, Elizabeth.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t. The forensic team needs to study everything so they can figure out exactly what happened. If we move her, then they can’t figure things out. Do you understand?”
Mary Lisa nodded, her forehead against Mrs. Hildebrand’s leg. “But-”
“I know, Mary Lisa, I know. I’ll tell you what, we’ll both hold her up until help arrives.”
Jack got there incredibly fast, a bit ahead of the paramedics. They heard him ru