Knight snorted. “Sure, he doesn’t. And now we still don’t know what happened to Helen.”
“We’ll find out.” A look of determination went over Miranda’s face. “I say we round up all the players. It’s time to get to the truth.”
56
Pauline had a lawyer with her. Knight figured the guy for exactly what he was the instant they walked into the small interview room off the second-floor entrance. He hoped Miranda knew what she was doing.
Knight was just there to observe, after all.
Pauline looked at her as she sat at the table. “Well. What do you want?”
The lawyer hushed her quickly. “We’re here to help as much as we can. I will, of course, object to any questioning I feel is out of bounds.”
“Of course,” Miranda said warmly. She smiled at the attorney briefly. “We just have questions. We have Jim Hollace, Pauline’s former lover, in custody. He admits he buried Helen. And since she was buried alive, he’s technically our killer, isn’t he?”
The attorney paused for a moment. Knight got it—the guy hadn’t expected the sunny smile, or her words. He almost snorted. He had a feeling Miranda liked shocking people at times. He’d learned one thing though—Miranda Talley was good at reading people. She used that skill to her advantage. “Then what do you need from Pauline?”
“We need a timeline. You see, someone helped Jim. We’re trying to figure out who that would be. Pauline was at work that day until around four thirty, I believe?”
Pauline nodded. “I don’t know why you think any of my kids know what happened. Jim says he did it. Isn’t that enough for you people?”
“The full truth is all we’re after, Pauline. Don’t you want to know what happened to your mother?”
“Of course, I do. I thought…I thought she just left because she didn’t want to see me again…She hated my children, her own grandchildren. Well, I’ve had two more she never met. And have seven grandchildren, too. I’m doing so much better than she ever did.”
It took all he had to bite back a response. Hollace had been adamant in his interview that Pauline had known her mother was dead that day. That she’d handed him the shovel. If they let her ramble, she just might get around to confessing.
“Then tell us everything you remember of that day. You went to work…you came home for lunch…what happened then?” Miranda asked, completely calmly.
“What do you think happened? I had a bunch of sick kids at home and wasn’t feeling so great myself. Pregnancy didn’t agree with me then.”
“So you…”
“Gave my youngest some acetaminophen. Held her for a bit. She went back to sleep, and I dealt with the other three and their whining. I was only home for fifteen minutes to check on the kids, see if any of them needed to go see Dr. Masterson at the ER. I grabbed a sandwich; ate it on the way back to the factory.”
“Where was your mother?” Miranda asked.
“In the kitchen, making potato soup. She always made that potato soup. I hated it. The kids hated it.”
“Then why did she make it?”
“Because she controlled everything at all times,” Pauline snapped. “Why else do you think? You knew her. Knew exactly what she was like. Or have you forgotten where you come from, Doctor?”
The look she shot at Miranda told its own story. Pauline eyed the younger woman with distaste and, if Knight wasn’t mistaken, jealousy. Resentment.
“I know exactly where I come from. And I remember that potato soup. Monica brought it for lunch quite often. However, we really need to get a timeline figured out. Make certain it was Jim. You understand that? We really want to know what happened to your mom.” Her voice had softened. Turned understanding. Compassionate. “I remember how difficult Helen could be. All the rules she had for Monica and Lesley and the rest of the kids. I know Monica was a bit afraid of her. Was Helen the one that hurt the kids all the time? I remember the bruises I’d see on Monica. At the time, I didn’t know what they were. I do now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one hurt my kids. No one! I wouldn’t let her.” Pauline’s hands clenched on the tabletop. She shivered. “I wouldn’t let her.”
“So what happened that day?”
“I don’t know! I went to work. I came home for lunch, and she told me she was kicking us out. We’d lived in that house for nine years. Even paid her rent money and the property taxes. On the whole ranch. We’d been buying the acreage up around it for the ten years before we left. Just had three acres and the house itself to buy. She promised we could when the time was right. But she said no, we couldn’t live there no longer. She wanted the house for her new boyfriend. She moved in with us years earlier. We didn’t want her there. But her name was on the deed to the house. We didn’t have much choice.”
“What reason did she give you?”
“She couldn’t handle the kids anymore. Didn’t want them around getting in her way. Didn’t want me having more. Only ones she ever cared about were Monica and Lesley, anyway. Told me I should have stopped after them. She always did want them; preferred them over the others. Wanted me to give them to her when they were born. She never forgave me for saying no. Badgered us for years.”
“So you came home at twelve thirty or so, and she kicked your family out. Then what happened?”
“What do you think happened? I went back to work. We needed every penny. We had two hundred dollars in savings. That was it. Luther had a paycheck coming two days later. We stayed with my cousin after that. Paid him half the rent my mother demanded for that shack. But I didn’t have a job after that. Neither did Luther,
