A Wrongful Death (9 page)

Her room in his house was always ready for her. The same old three-quarter size bed she had used from the time she left a crib until she went away to school. The same lovely patchwork quilt one of Frank's clients had made for her many years before, the same comforting Raggedy Ann doll forever sprawled on the wide window seat, a few clothes in the closet, things in drawers, a new toothbrush, her favorite Monet print on the wall.

In spite of what should have provided a return to the safety of another age, another self, she was a long time in settling down, in quieting her thoughts that night. Looking at it all from an outsider's view, she didn't blame anyone for not believing her. She could think of no less likely place for two separate women to have chosen to visit in winter. If only she had not seen that For Rent sign, if only she had not turned off the highway that day. She rolled over and tried another line of thought.

She should have pursued it, followed up, not just run from the situation at the cabin, letting the locals handle it as best they could. She might have done something. What? She demanded of herself. There was no answer.

Where was the child? Out running away in the fog? Hiding in the neighborhood? Tears streaming down his face? Cowering.

The image of that shattered face morphed into the bloody face streaming water mixed with blood, morphed back to the ruined face in the apartment. Elizabeth had known how to run and hide, but someone had caught up with her in the end.

She rolled over again. How could anyone have managed that brief window of time? Someone close by? A mad dash to the apartment, two shots, a quick search, then out.

Her next thought brought a sharp pang of desire. What was Darren doing these lonely nights? Did he go into the little apartment over the garage where they had lost themselves time and again? Did he sit at the table, remembering?

She hugged her arms about her chest and squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible and willed sleep to come, to stop the whirlpool of thoughts that, regardless of where the maelstrom started, always ended up with Darren. She rolled over again, then again.

Frank took one look at her the next morning and without a word motioned to a chair at the table and poured a cup of coffee. The newspaper was open on the table with Elizabeth's picture, and the headline Murder Victim.

Below it was the picture of Jason Kurtz with its own headline, Where is Jason?

Frank removed the newspaper, poured a second cup of coffee and sat down opposite her.

"It will keep until later," he said, indicating the newspaper. "Are you up to eggs? Pancakes? French toast?"

"Later," she said. She sighed. "It's an unholy mess, isn't it?"

"Yep. I issued a statement in your name. 'No comment at this time.' That's enough, but it won't hold them. I think you'd better stay away from the office today, let things cool off a little. I turned off the telephone ringer, but messages are piling up. Also, I called Shelley and told her if she has to get in touch, to use her cell phone and call mine. I left the same message for Bailey. At least my number isn't public, and I know damn well it hasn't been tapped."

She nodded and sipped her coffee. After a moment Frank stood up. "At least a piece of toast. The rest can wait a while." He crossed the kitchen and put bread in the toaster, poured orange juice and put it down before her.

She drank the juice, but when he brought the buttered toast, she had little appetite for it. An unholy mess, she kept thinking. The newspaper accounts, television accounts, everyone would think exactly what the police thought, that she was lying, that she knew a lot more than she was telling, or, worse, that she was criminally involved somehow. And there was not a thing she could do about it.

Frank pulled his cell phone from his pocket and spoke into it. It must have buzzed him, with the ring muted. She knew how much he hated the things, and realized again how seriously he was taking this if he was willing to use his. He said it wasn't natural to hold it to his ear and speak into the air. He wanted something he could really hold, a mouthpiece and a real ear piece. He listened without comment, then said, "Right. Thanks." He broke the connection and replaced the phone in his pocket.

"Bailey. Hoggarth's team found a tap on your office line. No receiving station nearby. They packed up the tent and left apparently. Also, Leonora Carnero's plane landed at three-thirty."

"How long could it have taken to claim her bag and rent a car? Drive to the apartment?" Barbara said slowly. The drive would not have taken more than twenty minutes, not at that time of day. Another twenty at the terminal? She should have reached the apartment no later than ten or fifteen minutes after four.

"I think that window of opportunity might be closing all the way," Frank said.

"But where the hell could she have gotten a gun? She couldn't have brought one on the plane."

He shrugged. "Maybe it was Elizabeth Kurtz's gun."

At ten Shelley called. Frank answered his phone, then found Barbara in the living room pretending to read a book. He handed her his cell phone.

"Barbara, are you all right? Is there anything I can do? Or that Maria can do? Except dodge reporters, I mean."

"I'm fine," Barbara said. "Just staying out sight for now. What's up?"

"A woman called, Ashley Dakota. She says she runs a shelter for women in Salem, and she wants to talk to you about Elizabeth Kurtz."

Barbara closed her eyes. Strangers off the street wanted to talk to her about Elizabeth. It was still happening. "Did she leave a number?"

"Yes. She said she's on her way down here, on I-5. She'll be in town by eleven." Shelley read the cell number. "I just told her I'd see that you got the message, that's all."

"Exactly right," Barbara said. "Thanks. I'll call her."

Ashley Dakota was what Barbara thought of as a feather-duster type of woman, with soft fluttering hands that seemed to itch to reach out and smooth, pat, stroke, minister to whomever she was talking to. She was slightly built, in her sixties, with gray wispy hair in an untidy bun. Frank took her coat and hung it up and they went to the living room, where she stopped moving when she saw the two cats.

"My, my," she murmured. "They are gorgeous! I'm envious."

Seated with Thing One on her lap, she said to Barbara, "I know about the work you do down here, of course. I imagine everyone connected with shelter houses does. Such good work. Anyway, I read about the murder in the paper this morning. That poor woman. And the account hinted that you had secreted her away somewhere after she was attacked the first time. I just felt I had to tell the police it isn't true." Thing One was purring loudly as she stroked him, and she smiled and used both hands. "But it's a difficult problem. They must be discreet if I tell them. I can't have the public know the location of the shelter, of course."

"What can you tell us about her?" Barbara asked.

"Well, I thought I should tell you first, in case they say I must not talk about it. If I already told you, that is moot, now isn't it? But I kept thinking that if you were her attorney, you have a right to know, and they don't always divulge what they learn, do they?"

Before Barbara could repeat what she had said so many times that it was sounding like a mantra, Frank said heartily, "Ms. Dakota, you are correct. She has a right to know."

"Perhaps I should speak to you alone," Ashley said to Barbara. She smiled at Frank, as if to soften it, not to offend him.

"My father is my colleague," Barbara said. "We often work together. You are perfectly free to speak with him present."

"Well," she said doubtfully. Frank smiled at her and she went on. "I know where she was from November twenty-fifth and the next five days. She was at the shelter. She came to the door on Friday in the afternoon, nearly falling down, staggering and deathly pale. It's a wonder she had been able to drive in that condition. The little boy, Jason, was fine, just tired and hungry. We put her to bed, and I called the doctor. He put stitches in a cut and looked her over. She slept all afternoon, and much of the next day, and then she was much, much better. Jason is a little darling. Everyone fell in love with him. I didn't ask any questions, of course. I assumed a domestic battering, you know. And we moved her car out of sight. Sometimes they come looking, you know. She didn't say anything about what happened, who did it or anything else. But she was really nice. I suggested that she should call the police, get a restraining order, you know, but she said she would take care of things. When I came down on the sixth morning, they said she had gone before dawn. She left five hundred dollars on the table by her bed, and a note that said "Thank you." That's all it said."

Frank stood. "Ms. Dakota, can I get you a cup of tea? Coffee?"

Barbara knew what that meant. He wanted to ask some questions.

Ashley said, "Tea would be lovely."

She had little to add, however. She was positive it was Elizabeth Kurtz, no doubt about it. That lovely hair. "They had to cut a little, for the stitches, you know, but after she had a shampoo, it was beautiful hair, a little wavy. And those eyelashes! Lashes to die for, one of the girls said." They cleaned up her car, did a little laundry, just little things. She had not looked inside Elizabeth's purse, she said, clearly shocked by the question when Frank asked it.

"We respect the privacy of women who need our help," she said sternly. "That would be most inappropriate. They tell as much or as little as they are comfortable with, and they are safe. That's what matters. They are safe." She stopped, looking stricken. Then she said faintly, "At least, they are safe for a time."

That afternoon Bailey came to inspect the telephones, and the outside wire. "You're clean," he told Frank, then said to Barbara. "You had a tap on the office line and the apartment, too."

"No operators around?" Frank asked. A tap meant someone was listening to the calls, not just taping them.

"Nope. A green closed panel van was parked over by the REI store all week, gone now. And an SUV was at the apartment complex, also gone."

"So someone knew at four that Elizabeth was trying to get in touch, and that she would call back in ten minutes," Barbara said. "That opens the window a little more, doesn't it? Make plans, get ready to act, whatever."

"Maybe," Frank said.

"Do you know where they took Leonora?" Barbara asked Bailey.

He shook his head. "They're keeping her under wraps. Not arrested, just out of reach. The manager of the rental apartments said Kurtz got there Tuesday afternoon, and there was no kid with her. And she said she was expecting a woman friend to join her so she wanted a two-bed apartment for one week. That's the kind of place it is, weekly rentals for vacationers, people here on business or conventions, things like that, families that don't want a hotel room. She paid in cash and he handed over the key. Done."

"The question now is where was she from Wednesday when she left the shelter until she showed up in Eugene on the following Tuesday? And what did she do with Jason?" Barbara said.

"Remember, she had stitches that had to come out," Frank said. "Apparently they were both too distinctive looking not to be noticed along the way. I expect they'll track her down." He fervently hoped that was so, and that wherever she had been made it impossible for her to have met Barbara during those days.

Late that afternoon Hoggarth and the state investigator showed up. Janowsky was again in his heavy tweed suit that now had beads of moisture on it. The fog had returned, so thick that droplets formed on surfaces, like rain that didn't fall so much as materialize.

"Shelley said you were staying over here," Hoggarth said by way of explanation. "We have a few questions for you."

"I thought that was the case," Barbara said, motioning toward the living room she had just wandered out of, after spending another hour trying to focus on printed words in a book that she forgot the instant she put down. Thing One and Thing Two were on the two chairs nearest the fire, and to all appearances not willing to yield them to newcomers.

Hoggarth eyed them warily and chose the end of the sofa, and Janowsky unceremoniously pushed one of them off a chair and took it himself. Frank joined them, and without any preliminary discussion, Janowsky asked, "Did you tell Elizabeth Kurtz to go to the Dakota Shelter House when she left the cabin? Did you give her the address?"

Chapter 10

"I told you everything I know about Elizabeth Kurtz. I've already told you every word I said to her, that I was going to go get help, she needed a doctor and my name. And that's all I said to her." Barbara's voice was steady, but there was a furious set to her mouth and a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

Frank cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I suggest that you get to the point of this visit."

Hoggarth spoke up for the first time. "Why did Ashley Dakota come straight here after she read about Kurtz's death?"

"Ask her," Barbara snapped.

"I did. She said because you were Elizabeth Kurtz's attorney."

"Ms. Holloway, if you know where Jason Kurtz is, tell us now, for your own sake as well as his," Janowsky said.

"How many ways are there to tell you the same thing?" she said coldly. "You want it with music?"

"You checked into your Astoria motel on Monday night. Did you meet Elizabeth Kurtz on the following days?" Janowsky asked.

"No."

"Can you explain how Kurtz drove straight to that shelter house?" Hoggarth said, not really a question, since he seemed to know she would not treat it as such. "She was in Oregon one time in her life according to her ex-husband, and they drove down the coast that one time, nearly six years ago. Never in Salem in her life, yet she went straight there. Someone told her about it."

Barbara stood up. "I've told you all I can. Excuse me." She walked from the room without a backward glance.

Hoggarth did not appear surprised, but Janowsky was clearly infuriated. He stood, almost unnaturally stiff and rigid. "Mr. Holloway, please advise your client that withholding information in a kidnapping is a very serious charge, obstructing justice even more so."