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“-Wanda Gajewski,” Kate said loudly, because it seemed the only way to be heard.
“Of course I know Wanda, dear, I told you, I saw you knocking on Wanda’s door, and then of course I saw you knocking on Genevieve’s door and then Margaret’s door but of course they both work during the day, all three of them do, they’re never home hardly ever at night either, sometimes I wonder why they own houses at all, but Margaret owns her own flower shop and makes a good living from it, too, and you’ll never guess but Genevieve is a police officer, can you imagine, how adventurous of her! And Wanda certainly is old enough to retire why she’s as old as I am, although you’d never know it to look at her, she’s been dyeing her hair for the last thirty years, even if she stopped dating after the trial although I must say she’s kept her figure marvelously well-”
“After the trial,” Kate, desperate and her mouth full of Dare Maple Leaf Cream, said thickly. “After the trial, she stopped dyeing her hair?”
“Oh, you know about the trial, my, what a dreadful thing, Wanda’s parents were good friends of mine and they were so mortified, all those reporters all over the place and people taking your picture-” the sparkle in her hostess’s eye told Kate that she hadn’t minded the attention “-of course they all wanted to know all about Wanda and I couldn’t lie, could I, no, certainly not, I was raised to tell the strict truth or my mother would know the reason why and my father would get out the belt, ours was a very traditional home, my dear, you look Native, are you Native, you must be with that beautiful black hair, it just shines like coal in the sun, it was the first thing I noticed when I looked out the window and saw you on Wanda’s doorstep, but why don’t you let it grow, dearie, her hair is a woman’s crowning glory you know, it used to be we’d keep it up during the day and then let it down at night when only our husbands would see it, that’s the way it should be but you young girls nowadays have your own ideas about things and I suppose-”
“Wanda has a job?” Kate said. It was rude, but there really wasn’t any other choice. She wasn’t eating any more cookies, either, she didn’t care if this woman stocked every one that Dare made.
“Of course she does, and a good one, too, with the state, you know, down at the new courthouse, in fact I think she might be clerking for a judge now, if I understood her-wait, where are you going, but you haven’t finished your tea!”
Wanda Gajewski was sitting behind a large desk in a plush foyer. “Yes?” she said pleasantly when Kate came in.
“Wanda Gajewski?” Kate said.
“Yes. May I help you?”
“My name is Kate Shugak. I’m a private investigator, hired by Charlotte Muravieff to look into the death of her brother William.”
“But he was-”
“Killed thirty-one years ago,” Kate said, “yes, I know.”
“And Charlotte is dead; she was killed by a hit-and-run driver-”
“Day before yesterday, yes, I know that, too.”
“And Charlotte’s mother was convicted of setting the fire that killed her son,” Wanda said, her fine-ski
Dayglo Diane was right, Wanda Gajewski had kept her figure marvelously well. Kate now understood completely the reverence in Max’s tone when he’d spoken of her. Her spectacular breasts were displayed to advantage in a blue twin-sweater set, and her equally spectacular long legs in a pencil-slim black calf-length skirt. Their length was enhanced by the three-inch heels she wore. It made Kate’s feet hurt just to look at them.
Her hair was a rich chestnut brown, which set off her pale skin. Her eyes were large and thickly lashed and carefully made up. Pearl studs in her ears matched the string of pearls around her neck. She looked like Coco Chanel must have looked on a very good day. She reminded Kate of every Doris Day movie Kate had ever seen, with or without Rock Hudson, back before everyone knew Hudson was gay.
She was enough of a knockout now. In her teens, she must have been breathtaking.
“Yes,” Kate said, “Victoria was convicted of the crime. But Charlotte didn’t think her mother did it, and she hired me to find out who did. I was doing a little research at the library, and I came across your name.”
“How did you find out where I worked?”
“Your neighbor told me you worked at the state courthouse.”
“Margaret?”
Kate shook her head. “A woman across the street.”
“Dayglo Diane,” Wanda said with a wry smile. “She’s the only one of us home at this time of day.”
“She is colorful,” Kate said, matching Wanda’s smile. “Look, it’s almost five. Could I buy you a cup of coffee, and ask you some questions? I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
Wanda was silent for a moment.
“Please,” Kate said.
Wanda said finally, “I suppose anyone who runs the Dayglo Diane gauntlet and survives deserves a hearing.” There was a smile in her eyes that had Kate revising the “bimbo” label she had had ready to stick on Eugene Muravieff’s mistress’s file.
Kate got Mutt and they walked down past the old federal building, bought coffee from M.A., and sat on the grass. The tourists, mostly retired people bundling up against the sixty-two-degree temperature in jackets, hats, and thick socks, grazed through the carts hawking T-shirts silk-screened with the legend unless you’re the lead dog, the view never changes, tiny seals carved from ivory, and necklaces made of strands of small round garnets so hard-polished, they looked almost black. They mingled with workers from downtown offices dressed in suits and ties, many of them pausing for a moment to turn their faces up to the sun, eyes closed, determined to catch every last ray because they knew the first snow could be less than a month away.
Echoing Kate’s thoughts, Wanda said, “I wonder how many of these we have left?”
“Feels good,” Kate said, closing her own eyes briefly. Mutt, lying on the grass next to her, pulled her head back in an enormous yawn. Kate heard a clicking sound and looked up to see a woman dressed in navy polyester pants with a matching bomber jacket and a white knit cap pulled down over gray hair lowering a camera. “Thanks so much!” the woman trilled, and trotted off toward a man of the same age who was staring yearningly toward F Street Station and the bar visible through its window.
“You’re a tourist attraction,” Wanda said.
Mutt looked bored. Kate shook her head and took a sip of coffee. It was excellent, rich and strong.
Maybe it was Kate’s refusal to get mad at the tourist. Maybe it was her appreciation of the sun and the coffee. Maybe Wanda thought that something that had happened over thirty years before couldn’t hurt her. Whatever it was, without prompting Wanda began to talk. Her voice was low and precise, unfaltering, unembarrassed. She laid things out in chronological order, stating the facts without bias or self-pity.
“I was dating William,” she said, “and then he brought me home, and I met Eugene. We were attracted to each other, but he was married, and I didn’t do that kind of thing.”
“He was also-what-twenty years older than you.”
Wanda didn’t take offense. “It didn’t matter,” she said. “I wanted him, and I knew he wanted me.”
“You were underage,” Kate couldn’t help saying.
Wanda nodded. “When we first met, yes. I was a year older than William, you see. My parents held me back a grade when I was in second grade because I had a problem with reading. Dyslexia,” she added.
She sipped coffee. “I wanted to see Eugene, but I stopped going out with William because it just seemed too creepy to use him to get to his father. I could see, in the brief time that I was at their house, that Victoria and Eugene’s marriage was falling apart. I had an after-school job at PME, and one day we bumped into each other at a union meeting, and then we met again, outside the office.” She paused and gave a twisted smile. “And then all of sudden, I did do that kind of thing.”