The Rainy Season (34 page)

“You told me about this. The MAO inhibitor. You said they reacted with certain foods?”

“Worse than that. She had no prescription for MAO inhibitors, but it turns out that Hannah Darwin did. Hannah also had a prescription for Prozac from a different doctor. She was a nurse, you know, and it’s easy as hell to get these things. All you have to do is ask. The combination of these two drugs can be fatal. Hannah filled the prescription for the Prozac a week before Marianne’s death, and she was giving her both these medications at once. It might not be enough to convict her of murder, but I’d bet ten dollars that your sister’s death wasn’t any kind of mistake.”

“
Mrs. Darwin murdered my sister?
Why?”

“I can’t begin to tell you. She was obsessive about Betsy, for one thing. And she had a history of this sort of thing. Marianne wasn’t her first victim.”

“Who was?”

“Apparently she killed her husband. He had terminal cancer, and when he got bad she fed him a poisoned apple pie. She made a big issue about it in front of the judge, about the pie and how it was an act of love, a mercy killing. She’s a convincing woman, Phil. She was released on probation.”

“An apple pie,” Phil said.

“She sees herself as particularly nurturing.”

“She brought
me
an apple pie this morning.”

“You didn’t eat it?”

“No, I’d already eaten. I
would
have eaten it, though. I’d have eaten the whole damned thing without thinking twice.”

“Keep it safe,” Mr. Benner told him. “The police might want to take a look at it. What I called to tell you besides all this is that she’s left Austin. Her house is locked up. She sold her car. Her bank account’s cleaned out. A neighbor says she took off three days ago in a rental car. It looks like she’s not coming back to Austin, Phil. She sees this as some kind of permanent change.”

“She’s got Betsy with her now.”

“How’s that?”

“My stupidity. Basically, she apologized for having lost her temper in your office that day. She said she was out here on a surprise visit. I believed her.”

“She believes
herself
, Phil. That’s why she’s so damned convincing. She believes that Betsy is rightfully hers. I think it was her who made Marianne write out that first will. When the second will turned up it drove her over the edge because she’d been living with the idea that she would be Betsy’s guardian. I’m surprised she didn’t give
me
a poisoned apple pie. Now, do you have any idea where they might have gone? Anything she might have said? Maybe even back in Austin? We’re assuming that she would run, but she might not have.”

“I have no idea. Supposedly she was taking Betsy out for lunch and shopping. They were due back over an hour ago. She gave me the name and number of a bogus brother whom she said lived near here. Probably what she did was drive straight up onto the interstate, since she wouldn’t have had any reason to hang around town. That was over seven hours ago. They could be anywhere, Yuma, St. George. If she headed up Highway 5 she’s two or three hours from the Oregon border by now. Hell, she could be two hundred miles south of Tiajuana. … George, thanks. I’m going to call the cops. I’ll let you know.”

He depressed the button, let it up, and punched in the phone number for the police. He expected red tape or doubt, but he got none. Instead he was put straight through to a detective, who took down a description, told him to hold on, and then was back on sixty seconds later for five minutes’ worth of information. Phil agreed to go to the station downtown with a photo.

He left Jen alone, at her urging, and went out to the car. It was dark, rainy, the weather getting worse by the hour. He backed around beside the garage and headed up toward the street, but before he’d driven ten feet, a pair of headlights swung down the drive toward him and he was forced to brake. The car pulled around in front of the house and stopped. It was Elizabeth, in a hurry.

PHIL CLIMBED OUT
of the car, leaving the engine running. He had no time for Elizabeth, but he could hardly speed away and leave her to make herself at home with Jen. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to put this whole thing about the crystal to rest. He would just have to level with her. She got out of her own car, and hurried toward the front porch, where it was dry.

“Leaving?” she asked breathlessly. “I’m always dropping by at the wrong time.”

“Yeah. Betsy’s missing. I’ve called the police.” He glanced through the window, past the curtains. Jen wasn’t visible inside. Good—he had the feeling she was vulnerable left alone here.

“Betsy ran away?” Elizabeth asked.

“No. Maybe kidnapped. A woman from Austin—her next-door neighbor. It’s a long story.”

“You’re kidding? Heavyset woman? Short, pushy?

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“You called the police? Call them back. Betsy’s safe.”

He stared at her for a moment in disbelief. “Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s with my boss, Mr. Appleton. Look, could we go inside or something? I’m freezing out here. And you
should
call the police back. We don’t want them rousting poor old Mr. Appleton by mistake.”

Gratefully, Phil pushed the door open and followed Elizabeth inside. Before the door had shut again, Jen walked out of the kitchen, saw Elizabeth, hesitated, and then continued on out into the living room. What the hell, Phil thought. This was inevitable. “Elizabeth,” he said, “it’s time you met Jeanette Saunders. Jen, this is Elizabeth.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Elizabeth said. Jen looked surprised.

“I work for Hale Appleton,” Elizabeth said. “He’s been waiting for you for a long, long time.” She shook Jen’s hand, as if she were genuinely glad to see her.

Phil left them and went into the kitchen, where he called the police back. He tried to explain that even though Betsy was safe, there was still a problem with Hannah Darwin, but his explanation sounded murky even to him, and he stopped himself before he mentioned poisoned apple pies or anything else that would make him sound like an absolute nutcase. The fact that he himself had given Hannah permission to take Betsy out shopping, and had agreed to let her haul Betsy to Costa Mesa afterward, made him look like a fool, and when he hung up he was thankful that the man who took the call—not the same detective as last time—only advised him to call back when he had his story straight. Embarrassed by his own muddled explanation, Phil went back out into the living room, where the two women were sitting down now.

“I was telling Jen that I saw Betsy by chance downtown. She was with this Mrs. Darwin woman. We started talking, and I could see that there was something going on with Betsy. Mrs. Darwin didn’t want to talk, either. She seemed like she was itching to get out of there. It didn’t seem right. But then all of a sudden Betsy just took off running. Just like that. And Mrs. Darwin started chasing her down the sidewalk. There was no way she would catch her, though. That girl was fast. Anyway, we followed, me and Mr. Appleton. Mrs. Darwin got in a white car, a small Ford or something, and took off after her, but we know the downtown pretty well, and we found her first. It took a while.”

“Did you see Mrs. Darwin again?” Phil asked. “She didn’t come back?”

“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “We saw her cruise past a couple of times, up and around the plaza, but she took off finally. I drove out here. This wasn’t that long ago, by the way. I guess I should have called first. …”

Phil sat looking at her. The story was half-screwy, but it couldn’t be
entirely
made up.

“Actually,” she said, “I didn’t call because Mr. Appleton sent me out to talk to you in person. I might as well tell you, if you can’t guess by now. He wants the blue crystal. I showed you the ad …?”

“He can’t have it,” Jen said, looking at Phil.

“You can imagine how important it is to him,” Elizabeth said. “It means nothing to me, but you do know what it is, don’t you?”

Jen nodded. “His daughter’s memory. That’s what I was told, and I believe it’s true.”

“Why shouldn’t he have it, then? Do you know the full story behind it? Because if you’re judging him …”

“I’m not judging anyone,” Jen said. “He can’t have it from us, I mean to say.”

“We took it out to the mission today,” Phil said. “We had it, but we don’t have it anymore. Believe me, Elizabeth. You two know more about this than I do, but I can promise you that we don’t have any reason to want it. I actively
don’t
want it. I think it’s … I think it’s probably evil, the whole idea of it.”

“You took it to the mission?” Elizabeth said this flatly. All the helpful cheer had gone out of her voice. She shook her head now, as if it simply made her tired. “You know how much money he was willing to pay you for it? I
showed
you that ad he put out.”

“I …” He gestured helplessly. “I guess I don’t believe in ads very much. And one way or another, given what the crystal is—what I
guess
it is—I couldn’t take his money for it anyway. I couldn’t have anything to do with it.”

“And it was I who returned it to the mission,” Jen said. “That was what we started out to do, and that’s what I did, finally. It took a long time, but it’s done now. I’m sorry for Mr. Appleton, although I’d have a great deal more sympathy if he hadn’t drowned his own daughter in order to have his way.”

Elizabeth stood up and turned to go. “I hope you’re not sorry for this,” she said.

“Sorry?” Phil asked. “Why should we be sorry? And let me ask you a question, before I call the police back. If you found Betsy, why didn’t you bring her out here with you? What’s she doing downtown still? Were you trying to tell us that Appleton wants to make some kind of exchange, Betsy for the crystal?”

“I didn’t say that.” She turned, her hand on the knob. She seemed almost livid with anger. “But if you want to, call the police back and tell them I did. I really don’t care anymore. I’ve been trying to help too many people get what they want. Everybody but me. Do you know what this cost you, Phil? You can apparently throw that away without any problem, but I can’t. I’m sorry if I don’t feel like sticking around.” She pushed the door open and went out into the night, and Phil stood in the doorway and watched her drive away.

“Where
is
Betsy?” Jen asked him. “Do you know what she meant?”

“In town. Only a few minutes. I’ll go on down there and talk to Appleton, I guess. It’s a strange thing, but I don’t even know what the man looks like. Somehow I’ve gotten in the way of his finding his daughter, and I don’t even know him.”

“I don’t, either,” she said. “I never did.”

“I’m not quite sure what I’ll tell him, either.”

“Shift the blame,” Jen said. “Tell him the truth. It’s out of your hands. It was never in your hands. You didn’t take the crystal to the mission,
I
did. Tell him that. What can he say?”

BETSY HUNG UP
the phone for the third time. Looking across the plaza, she was surprised to see the door of the antiques shop swinging open, and the old man himself stepping out. He paused to lock it behind him. Betsy watched, hidden for the moment behind the phone box. He crossed the street at the corner, following the sidewalk around. In ten seconds … She turned and hurried back toward the shop with the toys, looking straight ahead of her. A man came out of the clothing store at the corner, pulled the door shut, and locked it. A bell began to toll, and Betsy knew it was six o’clock without counting. The stores were closing up. The lights were already off in the shop with the toys! Behind her the sidewalks were empty. Had the man gone somewhere? Into the cafe?

She went on, toward the far corner at the end of the block, hurrying, turning into the alley she’d come through earlier. Her footsteps echoed off the high walls of the alley, which was well-lit from street lamps at either end. Scattered cars were parked in the lot at the rear of the shops, and she saw a man get into one of the cars and start it up. She waited as he backed out of the parking stall and entered the street, and then she went on again, faster now, smelling coffee again, hugging herself against the cold as rain began to fall harder. She angled toward the far corner of the building, glancing behind her again, relieved to see that the alley behind her was still empty of people. He hadn’t followed.

She went on, suddenly wishing she’d gone into the lit cafe instead of running. If she kept going, back up the block and around the corner, she’d get there again. And if the old man was inside, eating or something, then she’d call Phil again. …

There was a shuffling sound in front of her. She threw her hands up as a man leaned out from the shadows, and she gasped out a weak scream before his hand covered her mouth and she was dragged back along the wall of the building. A musty old clothes smell, the smell of the antiques shop—the old man. He repeated the word “hush” over and over, holding onto her arm. “Inside,” he said, pulling open a car door and pushing her in, slamming the door behind her.

She tried the door handle, pushing her shoulder against the door at the same time, but the door was locked, and immediately she scrambled between the seats, looking for the handle of the front door. The old man climbed heavily into the car, throwing out his arm and heaving her backward. He started the car, and there was the sound of the door locks clicking. The car moved forward, out of the lot and into the street.

“Hush,” the old man said again. “You’re safe with me, daughter.”

His voice was very calm, not at all threatening, and he turned now and smiled at her, nodding his head as if in satisfaction. “How old are you, my dear?” he asked. “Eight or nine? Ten?” The car slowed at the stop sign at Chapman, a block down from the plaza.

“Nine,” she said. “Nearly ten.”

“My daughter was just about your age when … when she died. She had hair colored just like yours. That was many many years ago. So many I’ve almost forgotten.”

Betsy sat in silence, dead center in the backseat, until she realized that he was looking at her in the rearview mirror. She unbuckled her seat belt and slid over to the passenger side of the car and then buckled herself back in where he couldn’t see her without turning his head. But immediately the car swung to the right, through a narrow brick arch, bumping up over a curb and into a dark courtyard. Behind her, half a block up, lay the alley where she had hidden from them earlier. They had come around to the back of the antiques shop, to the back door.