W Is for Wasted

21

I followed Alice as she crossed the back porch and went down the wooden stairs. Lolly sat in a shady spot under a cottonwood tree on one of two metal lawn chairs. These were duplicates of the ones I remembered from the scrim of yard in the trailer park where I’d lived with Aunt Gin; metal back and seat, supported by a continuous bend of U-shaped tubing, which gave the chairs some bounce. The finish here was chalky from sun exposure, but the chairs were otherwise in great shape. Between the two, there was a metal table resting on three legs.

The larger part of the backyard was given over to a vegetable garden, densely planted and still producing; cherry tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, and two kinds of squash. The beds were bordered with dark green kale and bright orange marigolds. The roses along the fence had been pruned to short, blunt sticks.

Alice said, “Lolly, this is Kinsey. She’s a friend of Terrence and Evelyn Dace. They lived next door to you and David on Daisy Lane. Do you remember them?”

“Oh, yes. It’s so nice to see you again,” she said, and then looked at her cousin, waiting for the next cue.

Alice said, “I’m going to bring you some lemonade. You can tell Kinsey about the garden.” And then to me, “Lolly designed the beds when she first came to live with me and now we work awfully hard to keep them in shape. I’ll be right back.”

She returned to the house, leaving me alone with Lolly, who looked every bit of her eighty-six years; big-boned and gaunt with wide shoulders and a wide, sloping bosom that disappeared at her waist. Her eyes were buried in soft folds. The dress she wore was cotton with an old-fashioned faded floral print in blues and pinks. She wore opaque beige stockings and sandals with thick straps. She had a colander in her lap and she was shelling peas, though the results were a jumble of torn and broken pods with the occasional spill of bright green. Once in a while she looked down, puzzled by the sight, but unable to correct for the error in play. Her expression was probably one she’d settled on for most occasions; pleasant, but with a fixed quality, like someone traveling in a foreign country, unacquainted with the language and therefore hoping to avoid conversation.

She flicked an anxious look toward the back door and then leaned close. “Who is that woman?”

“Your cousin, Alice. Your mother and hers were sisters.”

Lolly’s expression was anxious. “Alice is young. That woman’s old. She moved into my house and now she’s bossing me around. What right does she have to give orders?”

I felt myself detach from reality for a quick reassessment. My neighbor Gus had fallen into the hands of an unscrupulous caregiver who operated in this same manner, discounting complaints and suggesting psychological problems where there were none. If Gus told anyone how mistreated he was, the listener’s natural inclination was to write him off as a mental case. For all I knew, Lolly was telling me the truth. At the same time, if Alice was indeed a stranger taking advantage of an elderly woman, she wouldn’t have allowed me to see Lolly in the first place, would she have?

“I just met her,” I said. “I called and asked if I could visit and she agreed.”

“I’ve never seen her before in my life. Have you?”

“Not until just now,” I said. “Do you remember Terrence and Evelyn Dace?”

“Of course. Are you a friend of Evelyn’s?”

“No, but I talked to her children, Ethan—”

“Ellen and Anna,” she said, filling in the family tree.

I was thinking, good, we’re back on track. “Do you remember the name Karen Coffey?”

“Oh, yes. She went missing in February and they found her days later stuffed in that culvert, not two miles from Daisy Lane. She’d been raped and strangled with a cord. I felt so bad for the family. They were members of my church.”

“You have a good memory.”

“Do I?” she asked, and then, hesitantly, “Have you seen my daughter, Mary?”

“I don’t know Mary. I wish I did,” I said. “Were you at Terrence and Evelyn’s house the night Karen Coffey disappeared?”

“I was. David and I went next door at six o’clock for a potluck supper. I brought a three-bean salad and homemade rolls. Evelyn made that casserole she does with cauliflower, sour cream, and grated cheese. I’ve asked for the recipe four times, but she won’t give it to me, which I told David is just typical of her.”

“Did you have a pleasant evening?”

“We did. The pastor of our church and his wife were there. We had supper and then talked about raising money for the new Sunday-school building.”

“David’s your husband?”

“Yes, but you know he went out some time ago and hasn’t come back since. He’ll be upset if he hears that woman’s been bossing me around. Do you know who she is?”

“I believe she’s your cousin, Alice.”

“The visiting nurse said the same thing, but I know Alice and that’s not her.”

“Do you remember where Terrence was that night?”

“At the house with the rest of us. The pastor’s wife brought meatloaf, which I thought was too dry—though please don’t repeat what I said. When Terrence went to the store for ice cream, the pastor halted the discussion, thinking he might have something to add when he got back. Evelyn told him vanilla and he bought peppermint. Was she upset? Oh, my stars. That woman can throw a fit. Are you a friend of hers?”

“I haven’t met her,” I said. “What’s she like?”

“Crazy as a loon.” She crossed her eyes, stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, and made a circle with her index finger at her temple.

“Lolly, can you tell me who’s president of the United States?”

She leaned forward and put a finger to her lips. “I didn’t vote for him. Don’t tell.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Richard Nixon.”

I stayed long enough for half a glass of lemonade and some inconsequential chat. I kept a discreet eye on my watch and at 9:45 I excused myself, saying I had to get back to the hotel in order to check out. I thanked Lolly for her time. I thanked Alice for allowing me to come. When she accompanied me back through the house to the front door, I saw no sign of the flowers or the box of candy I’d brought. I hoped Lolly got something out of the deal. Did I trust her recollection? I most certainly did.

• • •

I crossed the lobby of the Holiday Inn on my way to the elevators. I’d planned to check out before Mamie and Evelyn arrived, but it occurred to me I should hang on to my room so I could put a call through to Henry prior to my departure. I had just enough time now to pack my belongings and get myself centered before the meeting. I could also use the opportunity to make a few quick notes.

A woman called out, “Kinsey?”

I knew the minute I turned around I was looking at Ethan’s wife. Mamie wasn’t fat by any means, but she was solid. She was taller than I and a good forty pounds heavier. Dark eyes, dark hair skinned back and held with a clip at the nape of her neck. Her face was full, tanned as though she spent all of her waking hours outdoors. She was packed into a pair of black slacks and a crisp white blouse, the shirttail out and belted at the waist. She wore big silver hoop earrings and she carried the manila envelope I’d left behind with Ethan. I knew it was the same because in one corner, I could still see the imprint of Binky’s wee front teeth.

Behind Mamie, seated on the couch, was Evelyn Dace, whose expression I can only describe as sorrowful. She wore a lightweight tweed suit, wren brown, with a white polyester blouse under the jacket topped by a big softly draped bow.

Mamie was holding her hand out. “Mamie Heisermann.” Her voice was of the booming type.

I shook hands with her obligingly, murmuring exactly what one does in situations of the kind.

“Let me introduce you to Evelyn,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind our coming early.”

“Not at all,” I said, though I did mind. The move was meant to catch me off guard, which it had. In the meantime, I couldn’t help but think that Ethan and Mamie were as unlikely a married couple as any I’d seen. She carried herself with authority. He seemed both self-involved and clueless about others’ perception of him. I was impressed by his stage persona, but not with the man himself. I wondered if Mamie had any idea how he behaved when he was out of her sight. Surely, any woman married to a musician has some inkling of what goes on.

I tagged Evelyn Dace at roughly her ex-husband’s age, which I knew was fifty-three at the time of his death. Her eyes were blue, but not the same bright shade as Anna’s. The orbs of her eyes seemed sunken, defined by shadow. She kept her smile modest, as though the hardships in life had robbed her of humor and hope.

We shook hands. Anna had told me Mamie and Evelyn didn’t get along, so the two must have set aside their hostilities in order to present a united front. I might have felt flattered, but I realized a better interpretation was that the two had now merged their antagonisms, the better to focus them on me.

Mamie said, “I talked to the manager and he says we can use the conference room as long as we’re out by noon.”

I thought, Two hours? Shit! “No problem. I’m on my way home, so I don’t have long. I’d like to be on the road by eleven.”

“So you said on the phone. I hope you’re not thinking to cut the discussion short. What if we haven’t reached an agreement?”

“About what?”

“Well, I can see you’re already being argumentative.”

“Let’s just see how it goes,” I said, not wanting to engage. We might end up in a fight but it didn’t have to start right now.

She led the way down a short side corridor off the lobby in a section of the hotel set aside for trade shows and conventions of a modest sort. The room we entered could have accommodated fifty people, but not many more. Windows ran the length of the room. The carpet was dark blue and the walls were faced with a neutral fabric meant to deaden sound. I could imagine a meeting in progress; coffee carafes arranged on the sideboard with trays of sweet rolls, doughnuts, and other pastries. Maybe a fruit platter if management wanted to make a show of healthy choices. The big conference table would be furnished with a scratch pad and ballpoint pen at each place. There’d be pitchers of ice water with plastic cups stacked nearby. I truly wished I were going to that meeting instead of the one pending.

This table was bare and the room was empty except for a whiteboard with an instant-erase marker pen. Someone had drawn a “Kilroy Was Here” cartoon in the center. We arranged ourselves at one end of the conference table, Mamie at the head. I took the seat to her right so I was facing the door. Evelyn sat across from me. With the glare from the window at my back, she probably couldn’t see my facial features.

I glanced at Mamie. “Where do you want to start?”

She removed a copy of the will from the manila envelope, leafing through the pages like a prosecuting attorney approaching the witness stand. Some of the faux friendliness had faded and we were getting down to brass tacks. “I have to say we’re perplexed. Evelyn and I were talking on the way over and she reminded me that before Terrence went to prison, he drew up a will that was nothing like this one.” She fixed her brown eyes on mine.

“He rewrote his will after he arrived in Santa Teresa. The date’s probably on there someplace. This was after he and Ethan quarreled and he left Bakersfield. It must have been a hell of a fight if this was the end result. Ethan said you were there. You want to talk about what went on?”

“The less said about that the better,” Mamie remarked, her expression chaste.

“Terrence was drunk,” Evelyn said. “No big surprise. He was always drunk.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were there or I’d have asked your impression.”

“I’m telling you what I heard.”

I turned my attention to Mamie. “Anna says Ethan spit in his father’s face. Is that true?”

“That was uncalled for. I told Ethan he was way out of line on that score. Even so, I don’t believe it warranted this level of retaliation.”

Evelyn jumped in. “I’m in total agreement with Mamie. We can’t understand why you’ve been given a role in such an intimate family affair. How in the world did you end up executor of the estate? My husband’s death is distressing enough without this blow on top of it.”

“Ex-husband,” Mamie said.

“I was as surprised as anybody else,” I replied.

“I’ll just bet you were,” Evelyn said, cutting me short.

Mamie gave Evelyn a warning look.

“Well, I don’t see why we should shilly-shally around,” Evelyn said, bristling.

“And I don’t see why I should sit by while you turn this into a big stinking fight,” Mamie snapped back.

“If you like I can go through the chain of events,” I said.

Mamie’s gaze flicked to mine. “Please.”

“First of all, you know who Rebecca Dace was?”

Evelyn spoke up. “She was Terrence’s aunt. Her brother Randall was Terrence’s father. She had another brother named Sterling, but he died some years ago.”

“Rebecca Dace married my grandfather Quillen Millhone. He and Rebecca had one child, my father, Randall Terrence Millhone. From what I’ve been able to piece together, he was Terrence’s favorite uncle.”

“Which doesn’t answer my question,” Evelyn said. “Why did you inherit all that money with such a flimsy blood tie? You’re barely related to us at all. It just doesn’t seem right.”

“I’ll tell you as much as I know,” I said, and repeated my account, which I rendered in excruciating detail, hoping to dispense with any questions she might pose.

When I finished, both women stared at me.

Mamie shook her head slightly, checking the last page of the will to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “What about these witnesses? We don’t recognize the names.”

“Those were friends of his.”

Evelyn said, “Well, I’m happy he had friends. That wasn’t always the case. I’m sure you understand why we’d be skeptical.”

“You want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Evelyn reached for the will and checked the pages as Mamie had. “Well, who is this Mr. Singer? Have you any idea?”

“He and Terrence met at a homeless shelter. I didn’t make the man’s acquaintance until last week.”

“What about Ms. White and Mr. Beider?”

“I met them at the same time,” I said. “Dan Singer told me the three of them witnessed the will at Terrence’s request. It was all straightforward and aboveboard.”

“They’re homeless?” Mamie asked. Her tone put them in the same low company as pedophiles.

“Yes.”

She blinked. “Do they have mental health issues?”

“Not that I observed.”

“What about problems with substance abuse?”

I thought, Oops. “I’ve only known them a week,” I said, as though that ruled out my opinion.

Evelyn’s turn. “But you can see why we’d question the signatures if these three misfits were drunk or mentally impaired.”

“Actually, I think only two witnesses are required, so I’m willing to concede one of them.”

Mamie stared at me. “Is that a joke?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be flip. If you want to challenge their competence, you’ll have to hire an attorney and take them into court. There’s no point in our discussing the issue since none of us are qualified mental health professionals. As far as I know,” I added, having eliminated our law degrees in the earlier conversation.

A little knot appeared between Mamie’s brows but her tone remained mild. “All this talk about attorneys. Is that really what you want?”

“All I want is to avoid turning this into a personal debate.”

Evelyn said, “But why bring attorneys into it? We’ll end up paying them the lion’s share and how will any of us benefit?”

“This is not something we can settle among the three of us. This is awkward—”

“It’s not a matter of awkwardness. It’s a question of what’s right. Terrence was angry,” Evelyn said.

“Okay, fine. That’s true as far as it goes.”

Sounding slightly more conciliatory, she went on. “I’m not blaming him, I’m only pointing out that if he’d had a chance to calm down, he might have reversed himself.”

“But he didn’t. In point of fact, what we’re left with is what’s spelled out in that document,” I said.

“Here’s what you don’t seem to grasp,” Mamie said. “Terrence loved his children. You’ve been drawn into a drama that goes back many years. I don’t think you appreciate the hardships they endured. I don’t know how Evelyn managed to hold her head up.” Mamie glanced at Evelyn as she said this and Evelyn managed to look especially stricken.

“Look, I can understand how difficult it must have been. That doesn’t change anything.”

Evelyn said, “You know he offered them the money. Are you aware of that?”

“I’m assuming that’s why he came to Bakersfield,” I said.

“That’s exactly right. The minute he had the settlement in hand, he called Ethan, saying he wanted to make amends. He talked about dividing the money equally among the three children to compensate them for their suffering.”

“You keep referring to them as children when they’re fully grown adults,” I said.

She dropped her gaze. “I suppose I’ll always think of them as children. Do you have any of your own?”

“I don’t.”

“Then it might be hard for you to fathom how a mother feels.”

“Off topic,” Mamie warned.

Evelyn gave her a hard look and turned back to me. “What I’m getting at is I may not know how the law works, but in my mind, and Terrence’s as well, his talking to them about splitting the money was the same as a verbal contract.”

Mamie said, “Evelyn, I’m not sure you’re helping matters. I’m guessing Kinsey’s already spoken to an attorney since she’s brought it up so many times.”

“I’m just telling her how I see the problem. Terrence wanted to do right by them, which is why he came back.”

Mamie flicked a look at me. “She might have a point.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said tartly, and then turned to me. “Surely, you don’t believe the terms are fair. After what they went through? Terrence felt rejected and he rejected them in response, but it’s not unreasonable to imagine him regretting his haste. It’s unfortunate he died before he had a chance to undo the harm. Doesn’t that seem reasonable to you?”

I indicated the papers. “The will is dated July 8, 1988. He and Ethan quarreled in September, ten months before. That’s hardly acting in haste. He had time to think about what he was doing both before and afterward.”

Evelyn went on as though I hadn’t said a word. “You have no idea how much that money would mean to them. This could be a life-changing event,” she said. There was a small tremor in her voice that I thought was entirely manufactured.

“I’m not here to negotiate. I made that clear to Mamie on the phone.”

“Hear me out . . . as a courtesy if nothing else.” She kept her eyes on me as though waiting for my permission to continue.

I gestured her on.

“As executor of the estate, you’re in a position to tip the balance, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“Then how do you see your role?”

“It’s not a role. As executor, it’s my job.”

“Your job, then.”

“I’m responsible for seeing that his assets are distributed according to the provisions in the will. I can’t just make these things up. I have to answer to the court.”

“But once this is settled, you do have a say in what happens from that point on.”

“If the judge decides the will’s in order, I’ll see that Terrence’s wishes are carried out. That’s the only power I have.”

“But isn’t this a conflict of interest? You admit you had no relationship with Terrence and yet you’ve managed to insert yourself between the man and his own offspring. Why can’t you give them a chance to accomplish something in life?”

“Let’s not go on with this. Please believe me when I tell you it’s not up to me.”

“That’s not true,” Evelyn said. “All that money’s going to end up in your pocket, isn’t it?”

“In theory, I suppose.”

“What I’m suggesting is that once the money’s yours, you can do anything you want with it. Isn’t that correct?”

I raised a hand. “I want to talk about something else.”

Evelyn said, “I haven’t finished making my point. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a share, but think about this. If you divided it four ways, you’d each come out with about a hundred and fifty thousand apiece, which seems equitable.”

I was shaking my head, irritated that she was pressing the point.

Mamie interceded. “Would you let Kinsey have a turn? You’ve talked long enough.” She turned to me. “What were you going to say?”

I loved how cranky she was. I said, “I’d like to back up a bit if you don’t mind. Here’s what I don’t get. All this posturing aside, why weren’t Ethan and Anna more charitable when Terrence was exonerated? I know Ellen was out of town when he arrived, but Ethan and Anna both still believe he killed Karen Coffey. Even with all the evidence that came to light. Why weren’t they happy? Why didn’t they rejoice? That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Not that they believed he was guilty, but that they refused to believe he was innocent.”

“You’d have to ask them. I wouldn’t presume to speak for them. After all, they’re adults—as you so aptly pointed out.”

I said, “Can we stick to the point? Terrence cut them out of the will because they mistreated him, yes?”

“I grant you their behavior was unfortunate, but let’s not make matters worse,” she said.

“That’s not where I’m going with this. Do you know why they quarreled?”

“Because Terrence was drunk,” she said.

“No. They quarreled because you insinuated he’d actually had a hand in that girl’s death.”

Mamie waved that aside. “That’s ridiculous. Evelyn did no such thing.”

“Yes, she did.” I looked at Evelyn. “If you hadn’t poisoned the well, your ‘children’ might have been receptive to their father’s overtures. They might have accepted the fact that he was cleared of wrongdoing. If the visit had been a good one, he’d have left them everything, so this is really more about you than it is about me.”

Evelyn lowered her gaze. Color was creeping up her neck, which I considered a thrilling sight. She said, “I don’t think you understand the relationship they had. They worshiped him. He was a hero to them. When this hideous crime came to light, they were devastated. I wanted them to realize that he wasn’t quite the innocent victim he portrayed himself.”

“You think he killed her?”

“I think he had the means, the motive, and the opportunity.”

“What are you talking about? This isn’t a television drama.”

“Karen was Ethan’s friend. She’d been to the house more than once.”

“So what?”

“I could see Terrence took a shine to her. I never had any proof, but I wasn’t at all shocked when the police came to the door and asked to speak to him. He looked terrible. His skin was gray. He was sweating and his hands shook. That’s not the demeanor of an innocent man.”

Mamie looked at her mother-in-law with disbelief. “Are you serious? He shook and turned gray anytime a drink was overdue.”

Evelyn was still focused on me. “I don’t know where in the world you got the idea I turned the children against him. I’d never do such a thing,” she said.

“I heard it from Anna. She told me last night.”

“Told you what?” Mamie asked, annoyed at being out of the loop.

“Nothing,” Evelyn said.

This was beginning to feel like politics, consisting as it did almost entirely of finger-pointing and accusations.

I turned to Mamie. “Anna told me the day her father called to say he’d been released, Evelyn confessed that she lied on the witness stand. She said he went out that night and was gone until the wee hours.”

Mamie looked at Evelyn with dismay. “You did that?”

I said, “Oh, yes, indeed. She also told the three of them not to mention it to anyone for fear she’d be charged with perjury, which is a criminal act. Ask Ethan. He’ll tell you the same thing. Ellen, too.”

Mamie was staring at her mother-in-law. “I don’t believe it. You said he was there at the house when he wasn’t?”

I wagged a finger, correcting her. “It was the other way around. She told the truth on the witness stand and lied about it later.”

“But why would she do that? She’d have to be nuts.”

Evelyn leaned toward me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Were you there?”

“Of course I wasn’t, but I’ll tell you who was. An hour ago I talked to Lolly Brandle.”

Mamie wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Who?”

“The woman who lived next door to Evelyn and Terrence back then. She was at the Daces’ house the night Karen Coffey disappeared. She says Terrence was home the entire evening except for a brief trip to the store to pick up ice cream.”

Evelyn’s tone was prim. “You can hardly credit her account. She has dementia.”

“She may not remember what happened yesterday, but she remembers that night, right down to the flavor of the ice cream he went out to buy. Here’s a question for you, Evelyn. Who was the president of the United States at that time?”

“I have no idea. How is that relevant?”

“Because Lolly knows. I asked her the same thing and her memory is as clear as a bell. Richard Nixon.”

“I can see you’re determined to take her word over mine,” she said. “I’ve been to visit her twice. She has no idea who I am and I’ve known her twenty-five years. Besides which, how do you know she isn’t lying for reasons of her own?”

“Because the pastor of your church was also there with his wife. I’d be happy to track them down, and I’ll bet you they’ll back Lolly Brandle. Are you going to call them liars as well?”

“I did not commit a crime.”

“I know you didn’t. You told Ethan and Ellen and Anna you lied on the stand when you actually told the truth in court. Later, you insinuated that Terrence went out that night and had a hand in that girl’s death. You didn’t accuse him outright. You undercut his credibility and you did such a fine job of it that Ethan and Anna were completely alienated from their dad. And still are, for that matter.”

“Accuse me of anything you like. You have no proof and there’s nothing you can do about it even if you did.”

“You got me on that one. At least Mamie knows now and we’ll see what she does with it.”