Pushing Up Bluebonnets

12

After a fabulous dinner, Kate and I were escorted by Richter to the library at the end of that long corridor with all the closed doors. A huge bay window with cushioned seating was flanked by loaded shelves. Someone had set up an old writing desk in the center of the room and I let out a sigh at the comfort of having at least a thousand books surround us. We each took a mahogany armchair with upholstered tapestry seats and readied our notebooks for the first test. And it sure felt like a test. A test like the SATs. A test that would require focus and every one of my brain cells working.

That's why I'd cut off the wine after a taste of the wonderful Syrah served with our grilled steak, mushrooms in Marsala and skewered vegetables. I decided during the salad phase of the meal that Richter had not exaggerated about his family. By the end of dinner, I was sure Cinnamon was the only sane person besides Scott. She'd fended off barbs left and right—less-thansubtle remarks about her dress, her thick Texas accent and even her dark roots. That last one came from—who else?—Adele, who had hair so red I was certain her hairdresser's fingers were permanently stained.

Kate hardly said a word and made sure she chose a spot at the dinner table as far from Ian and Leopold as possible. I couldn't be sure this was the usual male behavior in the Richter house—to gawk at someone as lovely as Kate—but I suspected it was.

"What is wrong with these people?" Kate asked after Richter left us alone to await our first interview. "No one mentioned JoLynn or asked how she was doing. Not even Scott."

"Maybe Richter told them to keep their mouths shut about her until we talked to each of them alone. His wishes are their commands, if you didn't notice."

"Even a gecko crawling up the window would have noticed that dynamic, Abby. It's all the other stuff going on that set my head spinning."

"Dynamics," I said. "Yup, plenty of dynamics—which is only a few letters different than dynamite."

There was a rap on the door. Then Elliott Richter entered with a young woman in tow. "Simone, please cooperate with these ladies," he said. "Your mother was telling me you're wanting a new lens for your camera, and I can make that happen if you help sort out what happened to JoLynn." Richter faced us. "This is my sister Adele's daughter. If she gives you any trouble, let me know."

Simone plopped on the chair across from us. She had a camera bag with her and clutched it tightly in her lap. Skintight denim capris hugged her legs, and she wore an off-shoulder peasant blouse. Her pale makeup was so much lighter than her bronze shoulders and arms, she reminded me of a mime. She kept her focus on her camera case.

In a quiet tone Kate said, "We missed you at dinner."

"Someone missed me? That would be a first," Simone said. "Anyway, eating here is bad for the digestion. Sorta makes you want to puke."

"You're talking about the family hostility?" Kate said.

Simone lifted her head, met Kate's gaze. "I take it you're the shrink."

Kate nodded.

Simone slid down in the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles. "This isn't about what goes on here. This is about JoLynn. Ask away."

"What can you tell us about her?" I said.

"All sweet on the surface, but might be an act," she answered.

"Really? How do you know?" I said.

Simone started twisting a strand of her parti-color hair—a mix of reds, purples and browns. "She won't talk to any of us except to smile and say hello and goodbye. Her room looks like a convent closet. But obviously someone didn't like her because she's lying in a hospital half dead."

"Maybe it wasn't JoLynn that this somebody didn't like. Maybe she learned something while living here that made her a target," I suggested.

"You mean she found out something about us?" Simone laughed. "Ooooh. Something evil lurks in the hearts of the Richter clan. Something besides self-serving arrogance."

Kate said, "You sound like a very bright girl. Insightful. Are you in college?"

"I start at U.T. the end of the month," she said. "Some stupid freshman orientation. I know how to get around. Why do I need an orientation?"

Kate ignored the attitude. "You like photography. Do you plan to do something with that?"

"If Mom and Uncle Elliott will get off my case, yes. Everybody has to work for the company. Well, not this girl."

Even though she still sounded insolent, Kate was getting her to open up. Yup, Kate was good at that, so I shelved my impatience and let her continue.

"Sounds like you know a lot about your family. You mentioned they're self-serving. Who's the best at that?"

"That's easy. Big daddy, of course. Dear Uncle Elliott. When the rest of us weren't worshipping him enough, he found someone else to kneel at his feet. Little JoLynn, bless her heart."

"And how does that make you feel?" Kate asked.

"Oh, no. We're not heading down that road. I have my own shrink, thank you very much."

"We can change the subject." I tried to sound as pleasant as my sister. With this girl, I found that difficult. "But you're young enough that you haven't worked for your uncle yet?"

"No. I work for my father—that's Ian McFarland by the way," Simone said.

"And Mr. McFarland works for Richter Oil and Gas?" I said.

"Yes, but I have nothing to do with those freaks. My father is a brilliant man. There's more to his life than consulting with Uncle Elliott. He does research. He writes papers." She wasn't looking at us again but rather examining a nail bitten to the quick.

"You live with your father, then?" Kate asked.

"Don't I wish? But what does that have to do with JoLynn? No, wait. I'll answer myself. Absolutely nothing."

"You're angry, Simone," Kate said. "Is JoLynn the reason? Because you understand that she's badly hurt, that she might die."

Simone blinked several times. "Are you trying to see if I flinch? If I care?"

If she wanted to convince me that she didn't, she wasn't succeeding. Concern had crossed her face, even though she was trying hard to hide it.

I said, "Did she talk to you about her life before she came here?"

"We weren't best buds," Simone said.

"Your uncle mentioned a lens for your camera," Kate said. "I'm guessing you'd like to be able to buy your own equipment."

I was wondering about this abrupt change in direction, but when I saw Simone's reaction to the question, I understood. Her fingers with their chewed-down nails fiddled with the camera-case strap and her face softened so much she looked like a different girl.

"Yes, but I'm not very good yet," Simone said. "I couldn't make a living at this."

"Is that where you were tonight? Taking pictures?" Kate said.

"Summer sunsets are awesome," she said. "And they teach you a lot about lighting and angles because you have to make adjustments if you want to get a shot that really captures all the hues. There's so much to learn about shooting directly into light."

"And so you missed dinner," I said.

"Yeah. Is there anything else? Because I don't know anything about JoLynn. We hardly spoke."

Why didn't I believe her? "She never seemed scared? Worried?" I said.

Simone stood. "Who would notice something like that in this place?"

I'd clearly pushed her buttons again because she turned and strode out of the room.

After the door slammed shut, I said, "You, my dear Simone, would notice something like that."

"And that's why she wanted out of here," Kate said.

"What's with all the anger?" I said.

"Maybe she felt overshadowed or threatened by JoLynn, though you'd never get her to admit it in this setting with all those self-serving others hanging around the house."

Before I could respond, someone rapped on the door. The smiling Ian came in carrying a quarter-filled brandy snifter and greeted us both by kissing our hands. He sat in his daughter's vacated chair.

"Simone give you a bit of hell, did she?" he said.

"Why do you say that?" Kate asked.

"She left the house in rather a hurry. Emotional girl, but I do love her very much."

"I believe she decided we were invading her privacy," I said.

"There is no privacy in this family, something she has yet to fully understand. I fear they'll run her off one of these days, just as they did Katarina."

"Who are they?" I said.

Ian glanced around the room. "This is a much more pleasant setting after that god-awful, tense dinner, though I feel like I've walked into an episode of MI-5 on the BBC. Rather like domestic surveillance being conducted in person by you two lovely ladies. You think JoLynn's little mishap could be terrorism?" Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

"Interesting you should change the subject and interesting you should jump to that conclusion," I said.

"Oh, we're all somber, are we? Guess I should put on my serious face. How can I be of help?"

"How long have you worked for Elliott Richter?" I said.

"Let me see," McFarland said. "Katarina was ten and Matthew was four, so that would mean twenty-nine years. Elliott and I have made a great team. But the poor chap's endured far too much tragedy. Awful luck."

"And how well did you know JoLynn?" I asked.

"Hardly had any contact with the girl. Bit of a shrinking violet compared to the rest of the family. But Elliott was smitten, that's for certain."

Kate leaned forward, her arms folded in front of her on the desk. "Smitten in what way?"

Ian pointed a long, well-manicured finger at Kate. "You're the psychiatrist?"

"Psychologist," she corrected.

"Too bad. I was hoping you might help me out with a bit of Ambien. I always have trouble sleeping after a visit here."

"You didn't answer my question," Kate said.

"If you're considering incest on the part of Elliott— which is where I believe mental-health experts love to go first—I'm afraid it wasn't like that. Adoration. Blind paternal love. That's what I'm speaking of."

"What did Richter say or do to make you come to that conclusion?" I asked.

"What didn't he say? 'JoLynn is sweet, so much like her mother.' 'JoLynn thinks she might want to help children in Africa.' 'JoLynn is thinking about college, but she never finished high school.' 'JoLynn refused the BMW I wanted to buy her, can you imagine that? None of you would have refused.' Meanwhile, his other drooling heirs were out on the job while JoLynn was home admiring the swimming pool—or perhaps the swimming pool attendant? Quite an attractive young woman, our JoLynn. Looked very much like Katarina."

"You believe Mr. Richter made sure she stayed away from the others? That he did this intentionally?" I said.

Ian cocked his head. "Ah, you're quite brilliant, aren't you, Abby? Yes. Good summary, my dear."

I ignored the smiling sarcasm, the attentive expression and the body language that indicated he'd like to talk more about me and less about JoLynn. "You're saying you were never alone with her? Never got to ask her about her past?"

Ian threw back the last of his brandy or whatever had been in his glass. "Not on your life. She was treated like a precious gem Elliott needed to keep in a glassed-in case. Though he never gave warning, one knew better than to get too close."

"You're very insightful, Mr. McFarland," Kate said.

"Please call me Ian." The charming blues focused on Kate now.

"Simone is your daughter with Adele, correct?" she went on.

"We're back to my daughter, are we? I suppose she's raised suspicion, perhaps due to the surliness I'm sure you were forced to endure. Let me be clear that Simone, though prone to fits of temper, would never harm anyone. Adele, however, is quite another story. You might want to focus your efforts there."

"You mentioned Katarina earlier. How well did you know her?" I asked.

"Quite a shining light in the world, Katarina was. A tragedy she had to wither away like that. They've made great progress with cancer in the twenty or so years since she's been gone. Though I was never privy to what kind of cancer she had, she surely would have lived longer had she been born years later."

Kate said, "Do you know why Katarina ran off for those two years?"

He laughed, an open-mouthed loud laugh, at that. Too much wine, maybe?

"You've got to be kidding," he said. "You've met Elliott. Katarina was being smothered, of course. We all knew she had to do something. Her running away came as no surprise to Adele or me—one of the few things we ever agreed upon when we were married, by the way."

"How did you know she was being smothered?" Kate placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist.

"Elliott, as I said earlier, acted with Katarina rather like he's been behaving with JoLynn. Possessive. Adoring. And toward the end, after Katarina returned from God knows where, he kept the details very hush-hush— that is, if he knew any details. Like where she'd been. The cancer. I mean, we were all shocked when we learned she was dying."

I recalled the words on Katarina's tombstone. Taken from the secretive world, taken from the pain of life. That memorial to Richter's daughter certainly jibed with what Ian was saying and made me believe that Richter might not have known where his daughter had run off to.

"Is there anything else I can offer?" Ian asked, glancing at his watch.

I wondered if his time matched the ticking clock on the fireplace mantel that had begun to distract and annoy me. Hard to believe it was already past nine p.m. "Not now," I said, trying to assimilate everything I'd heard so far. Which was more accurate? JoLynn the sneak or JoLynn the gem under glass? Maybe both, I thought.

He stood, bowed at the waist and in a mocking tone said, "I am your servant."

After the door closed, Kate said, "He's not telling all he knows."

"What makes you say that?" I said.

"Body language. Eye shifts. All very subtle but still there," she said.

"Good thing you were paying better attention than I was." I glanced at what looked like an antique mantel clock, resisting the urge to throw my notebook at it. "Is that damn clock bothering you as much as it is me?" I said.

But before Kate could answer, a knock sounded and Eva stuck her head in the door. Her ridiculous little hat was gone, thank goodness. You cannot take someone seriously when they're wearing a doily on their head.

She said, "Herr Richter thought you might require a break and some refreshments. Coffee? Tea? A brandy? Water? Whatever you wish."

"Coffee for me." I looked at Kate.

"If you have green tea, that would be wonderful," she said.

Eva nodded and closed the door.

While Kate left to find a powder room, I stood and stretched, then walked around, glancing at the books, resisting the urge to tamper with the clock. It had one of those pendulums that matched its loud tick-tick-tick and was probably wound with a key at the back. Worth plenty, I'd bet. I then focused on the books and noted Richter had a variety of titles, everything from Shakespeare to a collection of first-edition Nero Wolfe mysteries by Stout.

Since Kate had left the door open, I was startled when Richter spoke. He had stepped into the room without a sound.

"This is JoLynn's favorite room," he said. "She would sit in the window seat and read for hours. She told me she never finished high school and yet I caught her reading Chaucer one day and Poe another time. A very bright girl, but perhaps I told you that before."

"No, you didn't," I said. "I think you've been too worried about whether she'll pull through to offer me much information. How was she this morning?"

"Peaceful. As if she wasn't in as much pain as she has been in the last few days. They'll gradually bring her out of the coma soon, I'm told."

I smiled. "That's good news."

"Yes. I'm optimistic." He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a photograph. "You wanted a picture of JoLynn, but this is the best I can do."

I took it from him and found her immediately. She and her grandfather were the only ones smiling. "She's . . . beautiful." I continued to stare at her face and felt anger building in my gut. The person in that hospital bed hardly looked like this person. Who could have done this to her?

Just then, Estelle arrived with a tray of cups and steaming pots. Richter stepped aside and said he would give us ten minutes until he sent in Adele. He left the room with a nod and an almost pleasant smile.

Estelle said, "Anything else?"

How could we need anything more? There was not only a pot of coffee for me and Kate's green tea but biscotti, cookies and a bowl of Andes chocolate mints.

"This is beautiful, Estelle. Do you eat all this wonderful food, too? Because I might just have to get a job here if that's the case."

"I don't think you want a job here." She smiled and then was gone.

She's probably right, I thought. Bet she sees the worst

of everyone. I poured coffee and was dropping a mint into my cup just as Kate came back.

"What's that?" she asked.

As if she didn't know. "My own special energy drink."

She raised an eyebrow but made no comment as she poured from the small teapot. Her tea smelled wonderful—a touch of citrus, maybe?

I slid the photo over to her. "Check out JoLynn."

Kate's eyes widened and I heard her intake of breath. "My God, she looks so different than . . . what we saw. Really lovely."

I held up a biscotto for Kate. "How's about we leave that photo right on the table?"

She refused the biscotto—her loss, since they tasted homemade. She sipped her tea and sat deep in thought while I ate two of those crispy critters, along with three cookies. Then I added another mint to my second cup of coffee.

Adele arrived minutes later, and with her came a blast of cold air. "Pardon my saying so, but this is probably the most ridiculous thing my brother has ever subjected us to. And who chose what order we'd be interrogated?" She'd seated herself in front of us. She wore a blue silk blouse with see-through cap sleeves and tiny pleats from collar to hem, this with a black crepe skirt.

But her shoes were what had caught my eye earlier. The same bright blue as her blouse. I'd never bought shoes that cost hundreds of dollars just to match a blouse. But Aunt Caroline had. Maybe there was a nice person under the facade Adele presented just as with my aunt.

Kate was saying that Adele's brother, Elliott, decided who would be interviewed in what order.

"I assumed as much," Adele said. "Get on with this so Leopold and I can leave. We'd like to be home before ten." She then caught a glimpse of the photo on the desk and quickly looked away.

"What can you tell us about JoLynn? Did she share anything about her past with you?" I said.

"She never told me anything, but I can tell you where she came from. Some trailer park or other low-rent housing. Her clothes had to be from the sale pile at Wal Mart. Cheap earrings, Payless shoes and makeup from CVS pharmacy. And she continued to wear those atrocious outfits. Dollar flip-flops by the pool. Blue jean short shorts when we barbecued. Did she think she came here to audition for Li'l Abner?"

"You're very observant," Kate said with more warmth and sincerity than I could have mustered.

Adele actually smiled, the first one I'd seen her allow since we arrived. "You can tell a considerable amount about a person from how they present themselves. And she presented herself as white trash."

"Could you tell anything from her accent? Her grammar? We'd like to figure out where she lived before arriving here," Kate said.

Thank God my sister was taking over. That damn clock coupled with a woman who made Aunt Caroline seem downright charming was about to drive me insane.

"Hmmm," Adele said. "She was Texan, I believe. Plenty of y'alls in her vocabulary. I must admit she seemed almost intelligent, however."

Finally something positive, I thought. "How did you know?" I asked.

"Books. She knew about books. Young people rarely read literary anything, but when Elliott gathered us all for my birthday, JoLynn and Simone discussed Edith Wharton over dinner, if you can imagine that. Simone has had the best possible education, but this girl? I was surprised, to say the least. But other than that, JoLynn seemed like, well, the word hick comes to mind."

Adele knew more about JoLynn than I'd thought she would. I said, "Did she ever seem nervous or concerned for her safety?"

"No," she said curtly. "She was being protected by my brother. That's what this is all about, you know. He failed her. He failed and he can't stand to fail. About time he had a lesson in fallibility."

"You're pleased JoLynn was injured?" I blurted. I blamed the blurting on the clock. Even if I could shut the thing off, I'd probably still hear it. Hell, I might not even get any sleep tonight because it would still be ticking away in my brain.

Adele squared her shoulders, color rising up her throat. "If you tell my brother that's what you've discerned from this stupid little interview, I promise you, you'll regret it. I have nothing more to say."

And she didn't, because she got up and left.

"Like mother, like daughter," I said after she was gone.

"Abby, you could have kept that last observation about JoLynn to yourself. I'm guessing Adele knows more than all the others we've talked to put together."

"I screwed up and I'm sorry. But that clock is making me slap-assed crazy."

"You mean the one on the mantel? Or the big grandfather clock by the door?" Kate said.

I stood and walked over to the fireplace, pointing at my enemy. "This thing. Can't you hear it?"

"No. You have superpowers now?" Kate said with a laugh.

Enough was enough. I gently moved the clock to get at the controls in the back, fearing I might break something. But I shouldn't have worried. It was plenty sturdy. A small lever turned the whole thing off. There. Noise gone. But when I went to slide the clock back into place, a folded piece of paper that had been taped to the bottom dislodged.