The Murder Book

'Do you find it difficult?'

'Difficult in what way?' I said.

'All the authoritarian personalities, for starts.'

'Mostly, I deal with one detective,' I said. 'He's a good friend.'

'Oh,' she said. 'So you find it fulfilling.'

'It can be.'

'What aspect?'

'Trying to explain the unexplainable.'

One of her hands covered the other. Jewelry everywhere else, but no rings on her fingers. Why had I noticed that?

I said, 'If you don't mind, I have a few more questions about Caroline.'

She grinned. 'Go ahead.'

'Did you have much personal contact with her?'

'Nothing direct, but I was allowed to sit in on some therapy groups, and she was in one of them. General purpose rap session. The leader tried to draw her out, but Caroline never talked, would just stare at the floor and pretend not to hear. I could tell she was taking it in, though. When she got upset, her facial muscles twitched.'

'What upset her?'

'Any personal probing.'

'What was she like physically?' I said.

'All this interest twenty years later?' she said. 'You can't tell me what she did?'

'She may have done nothing,' I said. 'Sorry to be evasive, but this is all very preliminary.' Unofficial, too. 'A lot of my work is random archaeology.'

Both her hands cupped her wineglass. 'No gory details? Aw shucks.' She laughed, showed perfect teeth. 'I'm not sure I'd really want to know, anyway. Okay, Caroline, physically… this is all through the perspective of my seventeen-year-old eyes. She was short, kind of mousy… a little chubby- unkempt. Stringy hair… mousy brown, she wore it to here.' She leveled a hand at her own shoulder. 'It always looked unwashed. She had acne… what else? She had a defeated posture, as if something heavy sat on her shoulders. The kids were allowed to dress any way they wanted, but Caroline always wore the same shapeless dresses- old lady's housedresses. I wonder where she found them.'

'Dressing down,' I said. 'She sounds depressed.'

'Definitely.'

'Did she hang around with the other kids?'

'No, she was a loner. Shleppy, withdrawn. I guess today I'd look at her and be thinking schizoid.'

'But they saw her as potentially aggressive.'

'They did.'

'How'd she spend her time?'

'Mostly she sat in her room by herself, dragged herself to meals, returned alone. When I'd pass her in the hall, I'd smile and say hello. But I kept my distance because of the pink tab. A couple of times I think she nodded back, but mostly she shuffled on, keeping her eyes down.'

'Was she medicated?'

'I never read her chart. Now that I think about it, it's possible.'

'The group leader who tried to draw her out. Do you remember a name?'

'Jody Lavery,' she said. 'She was a clinical social worker- very nice to me when I had my problem with Larner. Years later I ran into her at a convention, and we ended up becoming friends, did some cross-referring. But forget about talking to her. She died two years ago. And she and I never talked about Caroline. Caroline was more of a nonentity than an entity. If not for the pink tab, I probably wouldn't have paid her any attention, at all. In fact, the only-'

'Sir, madam,' said the waiter. Our dishes were set in place, and we cut into our steaks.

'Excellent,' I said, after the first bite.

'Glad you like it.' She speared a french fry.

'You were about to say something.'

'Was I?'

'You were talking about Caroline not being memorable. Then you said 'In fact, the only- ' '

'Hmm- oh yes, I was saying the only person I ever saw her talk to was one of the maintenance men. Willie something… a black guy… Willie Burns. I remember his name because it was the same as Robert Burns and I recall thinking there was nothing Scottish about him.'

'He paid special attention to Caroline?'

'I suppose you could say that. Once or twice I came across him and Caroline chatting in the hall, and they moved apart very quickly and Willie resumed working. And one time I did see Willie coming out of Caroline's room, carrying a mop and broom. When he saw me, he said she'd been sick, he was cleaning up. Volunteering an explanation. It was kind of furtive. Whatever the situation, Burns didn't stick around long. One week, he was there, then he was gone and Caroline went back to being alone.'

'A week,' I said.

'It seemed like a short period.'

'Do you remember what month this was?'

'Had to be August. I was only there during August.'

Janie Ingalls had been murdered in early June.

'How old was Willy Burns?'

'Not much older than Caroline- maybe twenty, twenty-one. I thought it was nice, someone paying attention to her. Do you know something about him?'

I shook my head. 'You didn't read the chart, but did you ever hear why Caroline was sent to Achievement House?'

'I assumed the same reason every other kid was: unable to jump high hurdles. I know that world, Alex. Grew up in Beverly Hills, my dad was an assistant attorney general. I thought I wanted something simple, would never return to California.'

'Larry said you went to Penn for grad school.'

'Went to Penn and loved it. Then I spent a couple of years at Ann Arbor, came back to Penn and took an assistant professorship. If it had been up to me, I'd have stayed back East. But I married a Wharton guy and he got a fantastic job offer at Union Oil here in L.A. and all of a sudden we were living in a condo on the Wilshire Corridor and I was cramming for the California boards.'

'Sounds like things have worked out,' I said.

She'd speared steak on her fork and dipped it in bearnaise. The meat remained suspended for a moment, then she placed the fork down on her plate. 'Life was rolling along quite nicely, then three summers ago, my father woke up at 4 A.M. with chest pains and my mom called us in a panic. Grant- my husband- and I rushed over and the three of us took Dad to the hospital and while they were working him up, Grant wandered off. I was so caught up supporting Mom and waiting for the verdict on Dad that I didn't pay much attention. Finally, just as they told us Dad was fine- gastric reflux- and we could take him home, Grant showed up and from the look on his face, I knew something was wrong. We didn't talk until after we dropped Mom and Dad off. Then he told me he hadn't been feeling well for a while- bad stomachaches. He'd figured it was job stress, kept thinking the pain would go away, was eating antacids like candy, hadn't wanted to alarm me. But then the pain got unbearable. So while we were at the hospital, he got hold of a doctor he knew- a Penn golfing buddy- and had x rays taken. And they found spots all over. A rare bile-duct tumor that had spread. Five weeks later, I was the mourning widow, living back with Mom and Dad.'

'I'm sorry.'

She nudged her plate away. 'It's rude of me to unload like this.' Another tentative smile. 'I'll blame it on your being too good a listener.'

Without thinking, I reached out and patted her hand. She squeezed my fingers, then spider-walked away, took hold of her wineglass, drank while staring past me.