Cold Blood

Chapter 7

Lorraine arrived at the Caley home at two minutes to eleven, exactly two minutes before the appointment time which had been agreed through Rosie and Phyllis, but Mrs Caley was with her beautician and asked if Lorraine would be kind enough to wait. Lorraine was furious, and told Peters, the dour butler, that it was impossible for her to wait as she had other pressing business, and eventually Elizabeth agreed to see her despite the inconvenience, and she was led into the sun room.

Elizabeth had a thick face-mask on, a soft towelling robe belted at the waist and a towel wrapped around her head. Two young women in white uniforms were hovering around her, one giving her a pedicure, the other a manicure. They were in the small massage room off the gymnasium built on to the rear of the house, with a polished pine sprung floor, weights, bicycles and a punchbag, and leather reclining chairs. Classical music drifted from hidden speakers and all the blinds were drawn on the arched windows, excluding the morning sunlight.

‘Mrs Page, this is Angela at my feet, and Barbara.’

The two pretty, immaculately groomed girls smiled and continued working.

‘Pull up a chair, darling.’

Lorraine drew a wicker basket chair forwards and sat down. ‘Thanks for seeing me, Mrs Caley.’

Elizabeth was sipping her usual mint tea from a china cup placed on a small side table. ‘My dear, I am paying you, if you need to ask me about anything it would be rather stupid not to see you, would it not?’ She eased up into a sitting position and sipped her tea again. ‘You have any news for me?’

‘No, not yet, I’m sorry.’

Barbara finished the last coat of blood-red varnish on Mrs Caley’s left hand and stood up. ‘I’m all through, Mrs Caley.’

‘Thank you, Barbara.’

‘I won’t be a moment, Mrs Caley, then I’ll take your mask off,’ said Angela, as she carefully massaged oil into the delicate feet.

Lorraine did not want to ask any questions until the face-pack had been peeled, the skin cleaned with tonic lotion, then massaged and moisturized. It took a long time. Elizabeth kept her eyes closed throughout.

Angela gave a series of small discreet smiles to Lorraine and then whispered, ‘She’s asleep.’

Lorraine smiled understanding^ back when she would really have liked to get up and shake Elizabeth Caley awake. But she sat there like a fool as Angela crept around, packing up her vanity case. When she finished, she gave a silly little wave and crept out, closing the door silently.

Elizabeth remained motionless, head tilted back on the head rest, seemingly deeply asleep. Lorraine stared at her first with irritation, then with a strange fascination: there wasn’t a line on the woman’s face or neck and, completely devoid of make-up, her skin was still flawless. Her beautiful hands rested on the white towel robe, and she was absolutely still.

Lorraine suddenly felt panic-stricken — was she dead? She eased out of her chair and crept closer, sighing with relief when she could see her breathing, deep, slow, rhythmic breaths. Elizabeth Caley had a perfect face: cheekbones, nose, chin, lips — whether they were man-made or not was immaterial. Lorraine looked over the sleeping woman — could she really be ramming that amount of junk into herself? She could see no needle tracks, none on her slender marble-white arms, and none between her toes. Then she saw a small bruise and needle puncture on the right side of her neck, but only one. If Elizabeth Caley was injecting herself, then she must be very adept, possibly using her groin. But to move aside the towelling robe could wake her and God knows what the implications of that would be. Lorraine checked her watch and walked out, leaving the sleeping Mrs Caley to her Beethoven concerto.

Peters was unsure, but Lorraine made it clear that as she had been hired by Mr and Mrs Caley to trace their daughter, it would be necessary to see Anna Louise’s room.

‘Perhaps you should ask Mr Caley for his permission,’ she said impatiently.

‘I’m afraid Mr Caley is dining out this evening.’

‘Well, it’s up to you, Peters, you are capable of making a decision, aren’t you?’

It was no simple room but a vast suite consisting of a bedroom, lounge area and a bathroom bigger than Rosie’s entire apartment. It was like a showcase: unreal, unlived in, nothing out of place. The furnishings were soft shell-pinks and whites, and the king-sized bed had a row of white stuffed bears so pristine they were obviously for show rather than ever having been used as toys.

Lorraine slowly looked around; no normal, full-blooded young girl could occupy this room and leave no trace of herself. She sat on the bed and let her eyes take in every corner, as if hoping the room itself would talk to her. She asked herself where she would put something if she wanted to hide it. Was there some kind of hidden safe?

She moved through the suite, her feet buried in the soft thick oyster-pink pile of the carpet. She looked beneath the bed and found nothing, she searched behind the curtains, underneath the scatter-cushions and the bears: nothing. She went into the bathroom, looked inside the huge cabinet, the toilet cistern: nothing. She went back into the vast walk-in wardrobe and looked through the shelves: nothing, not even a faint smell of old perfume on any of the clothes. They seemed, like everything else, unused and unworn. She was just about to return to Mrs Caley when something caught her eye. All the shoe boxes had the contents stamped on cards — sandals, mules, loafers, brown, black, cream, etc. — apart from one; it had the same neat card, but without any description at all; it was blank.

Lorraine eased the box out and discovered it was a designer-made shoe box, the cardboard covered in white silk. She took the lid off and smiled to herself. Inside she found little bundles of letters, birthday cards, mementos, a Valentine card. At last she was finding something interesting, something she could get a fix on. She opened the Valentine card.

My one and. only Valentine. Love, Polar.

Most of the other birthday and little gift cards were from Anna Louise’s various aunts and uncles, her mother and father, but five cards in all, accompanying floral deliveries, were from the same Polar guy. Lorraine sifted through the box, reading the letters. There were poems and a couple of invitations to college functions.

She found nothing of interest until she had almost emptied the box — then she saw the condoms, held together with an elastic band. Anna Louise sure as hell had a neater-than-neat complex. Next came out several matchbooks, also tied together, not from any elegant restaurants but from the Viper Room, On the Rox, and the Snake Pit — all notorious nightclubs. But not until she drew out the pornographic magazines did she sit back, because they were not cheap material bought over the counter, but heavy hardcore porn.

She flicked through them and found a folded note sellotaped to one of the centre-folds. Written on the note in tiny neat capital letters were the words,

Lorraine slipped it into her pocket; it was the only thing she took out of the room. She had checked that the childish print was Anna Louise’s against one of her poems before slotting the ‘shoe box’ back into place.

Peters was standing at the bottom of the stairs as she slowly made her way down.

‘It is a very beautiful room.’

‘Yes, it is. Mrs Caley is still sleeping and I really do not think I should wake her.’

‘I’ll come back tomorrow morning, say about nine.’

‘Mrs Caley does not rise until ten-thirty.’

She hesitated. ‘I’ll be here at eleven. Goodnight.’

Lorraine called Nick from the car.

‘Hi, how ya doing?’

‘You fancy going clubbing?’

‘What?’

‘You know the club the Viper Room?’

Nick laughed. ‘You’re a bit old, sweetheart, and far be it from me to say, not famous enough. You won’t get past the door.’

‘Wanna bet? Pick me up from Rosie’s about eleven-thirty.’

Nick hesitated. ‘Shit, Lorraine, I ain’t no dancer, I got one and a half fuckin’ legs. What’s this about? You come across another chick screwing Robert Caley?’

‘Nope, I just got an insight into our sweet angel Anna Louise, some guy called Polar was givin’ it to her up the ass. See you later. And, Nick, have a bath, maybe a shave, huh?’

Lorraine replaced the portable, well pleased. She figured she had now come up with something that no one else had even hinted at knowing. She was buzzing, and fully intended driving straight back to her apartment, and then on to an AA meeting before meeting Nick at the Viper Room. She had no intention of going to see Juda Salina again, but she pulled over as she drove along Doheny Drive, checked the time, and sat thinking for a moment. She couldn’t understand why she felt so drawn to follow up Juda Salina, but she was — maybe because Anna Louise had visited her, maybe because she knew intuitively that the woman knew a lot more about the missing girl than she was admitting. If she had the mystic connection she claimed with Anna Louise, maybe she might have some insight into who the character calling himself Polar was... And as Lorraine was virtually on her doorstep, why not?

Lorraine pressed the intercom from the main apartment entrance. This time she was not about to play games trying to get in or out without permission. A bored voice asked who was calling.

‘My name is Lorraine Page, I need to speak with Mrs Salina.’

‘She’s sleepin’ right now.’

‘Then wake her up, this is important.’

‘What you say your name was?’

The main door to the apartments opened and she stepped inside, heading directly down to the apartment along the narrow corridor.

Juda slapped Raoul across the face, hard, and he pressed himself against the wall.

‘I dunno who she was, and you gotta a lot of freaks comin’ in, all jumpy and sayin’ it’s important. I thought she was a client.’

She pushed at him again. ‘I said you check out my appointment book, you don’t let nobody in here unless /say so. Now you’ve gone and let this bitch in, well, I’m not seeing her.’

‘I said you was sleepin’ and she said to wake you.’

‘Fine, now you tell her I’m sick and not getting up for her or nobody else, you got it?’

The door-bell rang and Juda swayed down to her bedroom, slamming the door shut. Raoul inched open the door, leaving it on the chain.

‘Hi, it’s Lorraine Page.’

‘She can’t see you, she’s sick.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Raoul, Ah’m her... Ah is her driver.’

‘Okay, Raoul, go tell Mrs Salina that unless she gives me ten minutes, I’m gonna go to the guy who runs these apartments and I’m gonna tell him that your aunt is runnin’ a business out of this exclusive apartment block. Now you go and make sure she understands that I am not moving away from this door.’

Banished to the kitchen, the door firmly closed, Raoul put the kettle on. He was already wishing he hadn’t come to LA, but he couldn’t go back home, not for a while, and he had no other place to go. Living with his aunt was hideous; only if he sat in the box-like kitchen could he escape her bulk, but it was dark and claustrophobic, and Raoul didn’t like the dark, didn’t like what happened in the darkness.

Juda lit an incense stick and wafted it for a moment. Lorraine sat in the same chair she had before.

‘I didn’t mean to be so pushy, Mrs Salina, but I really needed to ask you some questions.’

‘I’m sick, I got a migraine.’ She was wearing big dark glasses, another tent-like creation folded around her massive body, and a green turban. The long red talons wafted the heady incense perfume across the room, making Lorraine’s eyes water.

‘You never told me that Anna Louise Caley came to see you.’

‘I don’t recall you askin’.’

‘Did she come to you the day before she left for New Orleans?’

Juda sighed. ‘I’ll check my book, but you know, I already told you I have to respect my clients’ confidence.’ She eased herself up and swayed slowly to the door, opening it. The apartment was so small she didn’t need to shout but she did. ‘Raoul, get me mah appointment book.’

Raoul appeared at the door and passed a red leather book to his aunt. ‘Go get the car, Raoul, I need to be some place in fifteen minutes. Park outside, go on now, get your butt moving.’ She shut the door and flipped open the book.

‘Mrs Salina, I don’t want to see your appointment book, I want you to tell me if Anna Louise—’

Juda shoved the book under Lorraine’s nose. ‘You see, Miss Page, you threaten me and tell me you’re gonna report me. Now, there it is in black and white, whole weeks before February fifteenth, and there is no Anna Louise listed, okay?’

Lorraine stood up, flicking through the book, and saw that Juda did actually have an appointment that afternoon with a client called Eunice Bourdreaux. She closed the book. ‘Thank you. Why did Mrs Caley bring Anna Louise, were you reading her cards too?’

‘Sometimes she needed assistance, she used not to feel so good.’

‘I know why she didn’t feel so good, she was out of her head on drugs, so Anna Louise used to... what? Help her down the corridor?’

Juda shrugged. Like her nephew, she seemed to enjoy slipping in and out of her Southern accent, sometimes accentuating it, other times not. Now she drawled, elongating her vowels.

‘Ah do not know about any drugs, Ah don’t know what you are trying to imply or why you are so interested. The little girl came, sat awhile and when Ahhh finished the session with her mother they left.’

‘Did you talk to Anna Louise, I mean, read her palm or tarot cards, for example?’

‘I may have, I don’t recall... mah client was Mrs Elizabeth Caley.’

Lorraine sucked in her breath; the woman really annoyed her, with her sing-song voice and her huge dark glasses. She crossed her legs, one foot swinging with irritation.

‘You read tarot cards, you read palms, you feel people’s auras, and according to all those credentials you got pinned up on your walls, you also call yourself a medium... and you’re saying you cannot remember? Now, I personally don’t believe in all this, but that is just my opinion.’

‘You are entitled to your opinion, honey.’

‘I also know that you hand out a leaflet, where you state you assist with police enquiries. But the police told me you never helped solve any case. You just got a lot of publicity from it, and judging from the red appointment book, I’d say you need a whole lot more. It’s not exactly bulging with clients now, is it?’

Juda smiled, her hands resting over her belly. ‘Right now I’m not doin’ so much business, in fact I might just well retire.’

‘Unless you don’t always note down your clients. So let me ask you again, did Anna Louise Caley ever come to see you alone?’

Juda remained smiling, then shrugged her fat shoulders. ‘No, she did not. Like I said, she just came a few times with Mrs Caley.’

‘Who is the young man that let me in?’

‘Raoul? He’s my nephew, I am taking care of him, Miss Page, that’s all. Nothing illegal about that now, is there?’

Lorraine leaned forward. ‘What did Anna Louise ask you about? Was she worried about something? Was she scared of something?’

Juda sighed but did not answer. Lorraine was becoming angry at her inability to get Juda to talk. She tried a different tactic, almost pleading.

‘I am trying to find her, Mrs Salina, so if there is anything she said to you that would give me an insight into a problem she may have had, even a relationship...?’

Juda turned away.

‘Was she seeing someone? Mrs Salina, don’t give me any more clients’ confidentiality, et cetera. Please, Anna Louise has been missing without trace for eleven months.’

‘I have been interviewed over and over again and if there was anything, don’t you think I would have already told the police, told the other private dicks? But there is nothing, and what I saw for Mrs Caley has nothing to do with anything.’

‘Okay. What did you see for Mrs Caley? Please.’

Juda licked her lips. ‘I saw nothing good, I saw she needed to go to a rehab clinic, I saw she would have marriage problems, I saw that she might have a resurrection of her career, a lot of publicity, but not good...’

Lorraine wanted to snatch the dark shades off her fat face, but instead she gave up. ‘You know, people like you make me sick.’

‘I think you made that clear the last time, honey, but to be honest I am not struck by you all that much. You think you can push your way into my home, make threats, only because you’re being paid a lot of cash to do so. You ain’t offerin’ any to me, and even if you did I’d throw it back in your smug face. I suggest you start taking lessons in politeness because you are a rude bitch. Like I said before, I got nothing to say or add to what I already told the police and what I told you the last time you came burstin’ into my home.’

Lorraine walked to the door, opened it. ‘You still see a big bright aura round Anna Louise Caley? You still telling that poor woman to keep up hope? Well, I may be pushy, I may be getting paid for my job but it’s sure as hell a lot better than being paid for spouting bullshit to poor desperate people who could probably do with a good shrink. Thanks for nothing.’

Lorraine didn’t wait for Juda to show her out but she slammed the front door hard to let the whale of a woman know she had left.

Juda remained sitting in her chair, her hands clasping the arms. She sure as hell could feel Lorraine Page’s presence; one part was obvious, the bitch was a pushy ex-cop. But the other part confused Juda. To begin with she had been positive she’d felt something bad, really bad: was it because she was different from all the other PIs? After all, she was digging that much deeper. Or was it because she knew that someone with the initial L was going to be in bad trouble, like a clock whose tick-tick-ticking was about to stop, for good?

Juda had felt it the moment she had met Lorraine, that something inside that lady was about to escape from control. What it was she couldn’t put her finger on, but it unsettled her and she began to be afraid, as she knew she would have to go deeper and she feared that the consequences would suck her into the darkness herself.

Lorraine stepped out on to the pavement, which was shimmering in the blistering sun. As she headed for her rented Buick parked at a meter, a limo drove out of the parking lot. She could not see the driver because of the dark tinted windows, but she recognized the car. When she had seen Phyllis get out of it earlier that morning, she’d assumed it was Elizabeth Caley’s. Now as the driver’s window glided down, she knew she had been wrong: Raoul, in his mirrored shades, looked towards her, smiling.

‘You were on Rodeo Drive this morning with Phyllis Collins.’

He looked nonplussed.

‘Mrs Caley’s companion,’ Lorraine said, as she walked towards him.

Raoul gave an even wider smile. ‘Maybe I was, but to tell you the honest truth, ma’am, I am new around town so I don’t know where I am or who’s in the back...’

Lorraine moved closer until she could see her own face in his mirrored shades.

‘How long have you been staying with your aunt?’

‘Oh, a while, maybe a few weeks.’

‘You came here from New Orleans?’

‘Yes, ma’am, I did, no work back home.’

‘Did you know Anna Louise Caley?’

He turned off the engine and removed the keys. ‘Who?’

‘Anna Louise Caley, you know who I’m talking about.’

He sucked at the small monkey-like mascot dangling on the end of his key ring. ‘I know, well, I read about her but I never met her. I seen her photographs, ma aunty show-n them to me, and I know she was real pretty.’

‘Didn’t you meet her in New Orleans?’

‘No, ma’am.’

Lorraine stepped back, sure he was lying. ‘Thanks for letting me into the apartment.’

‘That’s okay, you have a nice day now.’ As she walked off he shouted out to her, ‘Hey! Miss! Hey!’

She turned back to him; he was leaning out of the window, his elbows resting along the rim, still sucking the key ring.

‘You shouldn’t be so mean to my aunt.’

‘What?’

‘She is not the kind of person you want to get on the bad side of. Trust me, you be nice to her.’

‘Why?’

‘Maybe she’s seen bad things for you, she’s got the...’ He tapped the centre of his forehead. ‘You cause any trouble for her and she’ll make bad things happen, she’s got the sight, know what I mean? Bye now, ma’am, and lemme tell you, you got real nice legs.’

He eased back inside the car and she heard loud music begin to thud out, some kind of screaming reggae, then the window slowly closed. She felt uneasy, because, although it was the middle of the day and hot, she suddenly felt icy cold.

She unlocked her car and got inside. She could still see the car parked up ahead of her; Mrs Juda Salina was obviously not that short of money. She started the engine, pulling her safety belt on. She stayed there for another five minutes and physically jumped when the phone rang.

‘Hi, it’s me, just checking in.’ It was Rosie. Lorraine kept her eyes on Juda’s limo up ahead.

‘Rooney’s here and wants a word,’ Rosie said, sounding loud and perky. Rooney came on the line.

‘We got to get over to New Orleans real soon, I don’t wanna talk to my contacts there over the phone, better face to face. You got anything?’

‘I want anything you can get, from anyone you can get it from, on this Juda Salina bitch, the so-called psychic’

‘I think we got as much as we could. She’s a joke, isn’t she?’

Lorraine saw Juda exit from the apartments and get into the waiting car. ‘She’s got a young nephew staying, Raoul, from New Orleans, comes on like a young Lothario, à la Robert de Niro. Get him checked out, try the same surname for starters. If you get nowhere, use the licence number; fat woman can’t drive and the car’s got Louisiana plates.’

Rooney jotted down the registration. ‘Okay, but you know we got to get over there. Time’s moving fast, we only got two weeks — three days down already.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Ask Rosie if she’s gonna go to a meeting this evening and if it’s one Phyllis attends... shit, hold on.’

Lorraine saw Raoul drive off, honking his car horn as he inched into the traffic. She swerved out, narrowly missing an oncoming car that hooted at her. She waved her hand in apology, the phone tucked under her chin.

‘Hi, it’s me. It’s Rosie,’ came her bellow.

‘You meeting tonight?’ asked Lorraine, heading up Doheny about four cars behind Raoul.

‘Yep, you want to come?’

‘I will if Phyllis will be there.’

‘She will be — she usually is.’

‘Okay, see you later, bye now.’

Rosie replaced the phone. ‘She’s got a thing about this Juda Salina. Dunno why, waste of time, I think. I mean, I was there, I met her, and Nick checked her out.’

You think she’s a flake too?’ Rooney asked.

‘Well, I have to be honest — I couldn’t tell you. She was sort of strange, gave me a weird feeling like when she looked at me she was seeing through me. She’s got strange eyes, very deep and dark, or maybe it was just the false eyelashes.’ She chuckled.

‘I’ve lost four pounds,’ Rooney said.

Rosie clapped her hands. ‘That’s wonderful. I have lost, well, not as much as I’d like. Do you think I’m looking thinner?’

Rooney gave her a long, studied appraisal, and then nodded. ‘There is just one thing, Rosie — when we get to New Orleans can we forget the diet? I mean, they have the best food in the world, and I’m not going there to eat raw fish. It might mean a few extra pounds going on, but...’

She held out her hand. ‘It’s a deal — we diet now, but we come off it when we get to New Orleans.’ They shook hands, and Rooney felt suddenly embarrassed. He’d never had this kind of intimate conversation with a woman before, even with his poor wife, who had been stick-thin when he married her and stick-thin the day she died.

‘Can I tell you something?’ he asked hesitantly, and she looked over at him.

‘Sure, tell me what?’

‘Don’t tell Lorraine,’ he said, like a kid. Rosie waited while Rooney rubbed his head and pulled at his big nose.

‘Maybe it’s age.’

‘What is?’

He coughed, now pulling at his tie. ‘Well, don’t take this the wrong way, I mean, hell, I’m not backing out of anything, no way, but...’ He sighed, unsure of what he was saying and how to say it.

‘I just can’t get the energy up the way I used to, you know, that adrenalin that pumps through you on a case. I used to feel it down to the soles of my feet, itching all the time to get to the bottom of something. I wouldn’t sleep, couldn’t even eat sometimes, and I know I was hell to live with. I must have put poor Ellen through it, and I keep thinking about her, thinking what a bad husband I was. She never had much of a life.’

He seemed so vulnerable, trying to express something that he couldn’t release, and Rosie went over and put her arms round him, which embarrassed him even more.

‘I just feel so bad about her, Rosie, because she was looking forward to us going on this camper trip right round the US, and...’

Rosie said nothing, but just held him and rubbed his back. Rooney rested his head against her.

‘I’m sorry about this, you must think me a big old fool, but she was a nice woman, Rosie, never would hurt a fly.’

‘It’s always good to let it out, Bill, you’ll feel better, and don’t you worry about that itch — I think you’re a very special person. Too many people hide their real feelings — I know I hid mine in a bottle, but I’m getting better, much better.’

There was a moment of embarrassment as Rosie drew away and Bill blew his nose hard.

‘Lorraine should be here any minute,’ Rosie said to cover her own confusion.

‘I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention this to her, I don’t want her to feel that I’m not giving one hundred per cent.’

‘Nothing happened here, you old buzzard,’ Rosie smiled warmly, but they both knew something had happened. Perhaps they were afraid to admit it at once, but there was now a bond between them and it felt good.

Lorraine tailed the lunatic Raoul as far as she could, but he then cut across traffic and she lost him. Maybe Raoul knew she’d been on their tail, but judging by the way the kid drove, he was more than likely to cop a speeding ticket and Lorraine with him.

They were parked across the road from the AA meeting. It was almost eight.

Lorraine looked in the driving mirror. ‘Here she comes now. Okay, I’m out of here, you wait in the car.’

‘But I want to go into the meeting.’

‘Fine, can you just give me a few seconds with Phyllis?’

Lorraine crossed to Phyllis, smiled and shook her hand. Then they walked to a bench seat outside the church hall.

Phyllis clenched her hands together. ‘I really do not see that it is any concern of yours, I was simply passing the car and Mrs Salina called out to me, so I went over and—’

‘Is she still seeing Mrs Caley?’

‘Er, no, well, Mr Caley has objected to her coming to the house and so, no, she doesn’t see her anymore.’

‘Does Robert Caley know Elizabeth is pumping herself full of temazepam... that’s what she’s injecting, right?’

Phyllis had those two red dots in her cheeks again. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘I am trying to, Phyllis, I really am. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? That she could induce a thrombosis and kill herself?’

Phyllis seemed ready to burst into tears.

Lorraine continued. ‘The stuff is lethal, Phyllis, and you would be partly responsible if she killed herself. You’re procuring the stuff for her, you have admitted to picking it up, so why don’t you stop lying to me? Does Robert Caley know what his wife is taking?’

Phyllis shook her head. ‘No, he has no idea. You see, when she last came out of the rehab clinic, she was no longer taking cocaine, not even alcohol, but then with all this terrible thing about Anna Louise... She couldn’t sleep and she became very anxious and...’

‘The doc prescribed the temazepam, right?’

Phyllis nodded. ‘Just a small amount to begin with and then she needed more, and...’ The tears came and she fumbled in her sleeve to take out a tiny lace handkerchief. ‘Oh dear, dear me, I can’t stop her. And she’s threatened to sack me if I mention it to Mr Caley, she’ll also sack me if I don’t collect them... it places me in such a terrible position.’

‘Well, she won’t be able to get any more, Dr Hayleden’s been arrested.’

‘Oh God.’ Phyllis pressed the handkerchief to her watery eyes.

‘Yeah, oh God, but you should thank God, Phyllis, because without her supply she’s not likely to kill herself, is she?’

Phyllis closed her eyes and sniffed, her mouth turned down. ‘Oh, she’ll find someone else, or something else. I don’t know if I can take much more. That’s why I started drinking, you know, she wore me out. She just never sleeps, she can’t sleep without something, and now she has an excuse. All she thinks about is Anna Louise.’

‘She took her to see Juda.’

‘Yes, I think so, but I wasn’t with them, she would never let me go with her.’

‘And Mr and Mrs Caley took Mrs Salina to New Orleans, yes? To try and help trace Anna Louise?’

Phyllis nodded, chewing at her thin lips. ‘Yes, Elizabeth insisted. You see, Mrs Salina was sure that if she was close to where she had been, in the hotel or wherever, she would pick up her aura.’

‘And?’

Phyllis shrugged. ‘Well, she was sure the poor child was very much alive and I think she stayed on for a few days after Elizabeth returned because as I recall Mr Caley sent his private plane to bring her back to LA.’

Lorraine nodded. ‘Why did he forbid her to see Elizabeth?’

Phyllis sighed. ‘Mr Caley suspected that the woman was a charlatan, building up Elizabeth’s hopes; he never approved of her, and he was deeply angry when he discovered that Elizabeth had taken Anna Louise to Mrs Salina’s apartment.’

‘Was that when he banned Juda from visiting the house?’

‘No, that was after they returned from New Orleans.’

‘But she was a calming influence!’

‘Yes, she was, but not after the disappearance. Elizabeth would become very distraught and called Mrs Salina in hysterics. She gave her hope, you see... Mr Caley was only doing it for the best.’

Lorraine nodded, checking the time. ‘Why did Anna Louise go to Mrs Salina’s?’

‘I don’t think she got involved in any of that mumbo-jumbo thing, it was just that sometimes Mrs Caley was not very steady. I think Mr Caley had words with Anna Louise, and she promised never to go there again...’

‘And did she?’

‘No, no, she wouldn’t go against her father’s wishes. She was a very obedient girl. And she had Tilda Brown staying at the time, so she had other things on her mind. The girl used to stay a lot, well, with her family being so far away, most weekends actually. In fact, Anna Louise was looking forward to going to New Orleans because...’

Phyllis suddenly hesitated, turning away from Lorraine. It was as if she had thought of something and was deciding whether or not to mention it. She covered by tucking her little handkerchief back up her sleeve.

‘Because?’ Lorraine said softly.

‘Er, nothing really, it’s just that the girls had a bit of a falling out, nothing serious, and Tilda went home the next morning. She was meant to stay on another day and travel with Mr and Mrs Caley but you know young girls, probably argued about a game of tennis.’

‘Must have been quite an argument to leave so abruptly, and also as they were all to travel together the following day.’

‘I suppose so, but you know young girls.’

‘Have you ever met Saffron Dulay? I think she’s a close friend of Mr Caley’s.’

Phyllis looked at her watch and stood up, smoothing down her skirt. ‘No, I have not had the pleasure. Is there anything else you wish to ask me? If there isn’t, I really should go in.’

‘No, I don’t think so. Thank you very much for your time.’

Phyllis patted her hair. ‘I am sorry if, well, I know you think I am not always honest, but you see, Mrs Page, part of me has to be so very careful. I signed a confidentiality agreement with Mrs Caley, all her staff have to...’

‘I understand, Phyllis.’

‘It’s just I am so scared of losing my job. I have a very elderly mother and aunt I take care of back in England. They are dependent on my income and the Caleys have been so very kind over my own little problem.’

‘Yes, I am sure Elizabeth Caley would be, considering her own.’

Phyllis gave an eerie, high-pitched titter. She put out her hand to shake Lorraine’s, rather like a little fragile claw which clasped for a moment and then released.

‘Was Juda Salina paid a lot of money?’

‘Money, Mrs Page, is not something that Elizabeth Caley has any worries over.’

‘Just one more thing, Phyllis. How close to the time of Anna Louise’s disappearance did Mr Caley forbid her to see Juda Salina?’

‘Oh, weeks before. Then after Anna Louise disappeared, Mr Caley agreed to allow Mrs Salina to visit but stopped her coming after about three or four months. Now please, I really should go in. Good evening.’ And with that, Phyllis hurried into the church hall.

Lorraine frowned; why did Elizabeth Caley have such a prissy woman caring for her?

Rosie banged the car door shut, shouting, ‘I got to go in, Lorraine! Lorraine!’

Lorraine was still frowning as she joined Rosie. ‘You know, I don’t think Phyllis even likes Elizabeth Caley.’

‘You going into the meeting?’

Lorraine shook her head. ‘No, you go ahead.’

Rosie sighed with irritation as she watched Lorraine walk towards the car. ‘Maybe you should.’

Lorraine whipped round. ‘We got two weeks, Rosie.’

‘I know that, but how am I going to get home?’

Lorraine sighed. ‘Ask Phyllis to give you a ride.’

Rosie was tight-lipped: sometimes she really didn’t like the way Lorraine treated her, and she was just about to say so when Lorraine turned back and gave her a hug.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to sound so pushy... but we are pushed for time, Rosie, and I think I’m on to something. Not sure what it is yet, but if you can’t get a ride, take a cab, okay?’

Rosie patted her friend’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll get home. You know Nick will look after you, don’t you?’

‘What?’

Rosie winked. ‘I never said nothing, but he’s kind of got the hots for you, so you treat him nice.’

Lorraine laughed. Sometimes Rosie could be so dumb. ‘No, Rosie, he just wants a cut of the one million, that’s what he’s got the hots for, and we may just be getting closer to it. See you later.’