Clear and Convincing Proof (25 page)

For just an instant Barbara had the impression that Annie's feet were not touching the floor. She shook her head and closed her eyes hard, then opened them and held up her car keys, delivered by Bailey, who had informed her that the car was in the front parking lot. “I'm out of here,” she said.

“Bobby, have you had anything to eat today?” Frank asked.

She didn't even have to pause to think about it before she realized her stomach was making express train noises again. Then, from the doorway, Darren said, “Want some dinner?”

Frank looked from her to Darren, then back, recalling her words to Hoggarth: I'm not going anywhere. He said, “Come on, Shelley. I'll take you over to pick up your car. Bailey, you want some dinner?”

 

“Any place in particular in mind?” Barbara asked, at the wheel of her car with Darren in the passenger seat.

He named an Italian restaurant in the south end of town and she began to drive.

“No one asked me about Kelso's car,” he said later, breaking a long silence.

“Unless you mentioned it to the police, they have no reason to ask,” she said. “I told you that everything you said to me until this evening was privileged. I haven't mentioned it. I didn't mention it in your apartment where Erica could overhear. You didn't see Kelso's car, you saw Erica's old station wagon. A block away, rain, fog, dark, not expecting to see it, you interpreted it in a way that made sense. I didn't mention that you saw anything that morning, by the way.”

“What made you suspect her in the first place?” he asked after a moment.

“You did. In Dad's kitchen when you said you saw car lights leaving. McIvey couldn't have been dead for longer than a minute or two if you saw the killer leave and got blood on your boot. It meant that you didn't leave that morning when Erica said you did. She was lying about it. I had suspected that from the beginning, but I hadn't taken it to the next step. Giving you that alibi gave her one, too. No one ever suspected her of murder, just of lying to save you.”

“Won't they have the same problem with her moving the body that they had with Annie?”

“Of course. The prosecutor will say she could have done it. Her defense attorney will say she couldn't. She'll probably deny everything, or else go for insanity. The devil made her do it. What would be really insane would be for her to admit to anything at all, and then deny moving him. As for the prosecution, when you can bring a charge of murder one, you don't worry too much about obstruction of justice or interfering with a crime scene. What they needed from day one was the gun, and now they have it.”

There was a lengthy silence. “That was an impressive charade you put on in my apartment,” he said in a lazy-sounding voice, as she drew near the restaurant. “You stung me more than once. The whole thing was for her benefit, wasn't it? Goad her into taking action again, come out with the gun in hand.”

She nodded, pulled into the parking lot, stopped and opened her door.

“Why did she do it?” he asked.

“Because she was seduced, she was in love with you, and meant to have you at any cost.” She got out and walked to the restaurant door. He was at her heels.

A waiter met them, guided them to a booth, placed menus before them and left, all in silence.

“I've never seduced anyone in my life,” Darren said. “You're playing a hunch for all it's worth. You suspected her and you're twisting everything to make your hunch work.”

“Not a hunch. Who knew David McIvey was planning a surgery at the clinic? He told Kelso and Annie. Kelso told the Boardmans and Annie told you. Who told Erica? No one else at the clinic knew. His ex-wife didn't know. They all thought he meant to continue it as a profit-making rehab clinic, but Erica knew. She has good ears. She heard me drive up to the house when she was in the kitchen. She heard Annie arrive the night she turned up there. She must have listened at the door to the stairs, but why? And why take action like that? She had her own game plan and it didn't include seeing you driven away, maybe ruined professionally.”

She opened her menu. He ignored his. The waiter returned with dipping olive oil and crusty bread. “The seafood lasagna and house salad,” she said, closing the menu. “House Soave.”

Darren held up his hand. “Two.” The waiter left.

As if there had been no interruption, Barbara picked up where she had left off. “Erica came to
Eugene with every intention of selling that house and she changed her mind after she met you. She stretched out her volunteer work to five days a week. And you heard Naomi tonight, she applied for Bernie's job. She made up to your son, bought him that bonsai. Didn't she? Wasn't that from her?”

He nodded.

“Forty bucks,” Barbara said. “And she was penniless, living on plastic practically. It all begins to add up. Not just a hunch.”

The waiter brought a decanter of chilled wine and poured two glasses. Barbara waved him away, and from across the room, he glanced back at them and sighed. They were both leaning forward, ignoring the wine, ignoring the oil and bread, and he was very afraid that when he served their dinners, they would ignore them as well.

“I never gave her any reason to believe I was interested,” Darren said. “And I sure did not seduce her, or even try to seduce her.”

“You seduce everyone in your path. You do it automatically, without noticing what effect you're having.”

He looked startled and drew back. “Earlier, when you were riding me in my apartment,” he said, no longer lazy sounding, or drawling either. His words were clipped. “I kept thinking, does she realize she's talking about herself? Describing herself? Arrogant. Sure of herself. Sweeping aside opposition. Take charge and keep it.”

“Oh, that got to you, didn't it? I meant every word.”

“The night you first came to the meeting,” he said, “you took the ball away from Thomas Kelso and put it in your pocket, and it's been there ever since. Your game, your rules, your way. You know what I told myself that night? You'll never guess. I told myself that you're the most dangerous woman I've ever seen. I would not want to get in your way.”

“The difference between us is that I can admit I'm fallible. I make mistakes. I can't be sure of myself, not the way you claim to be. I'm not afraid to admit that up front.”

“That's arrogance hiding behind fake humility. And you know it. You couldn't work for anyone any more than I can. You'd set up a tent first. You talked about Mount Olympus. You claimed that mountaintop a long time ago and you won't let anyone else near it. You run your office to suit yourself, your way, and you do exactly what I do. You get a hunch, make an intuitive leap and find the evidence to support it. You don't let the evidence take you to a conclusion. You force it, following what you believe, what you know, is the truth.”

“Now you're talking about yourself,” she said furiously. “Your magic hands tell you things and you follow where they lead without question. I don't pretend to have magic. Logic and reason, cause and effect, watching people's actions and reactions, sizing up evidence, there's nothing mystical or magical about it. It's simple hard work.”

“If you really believe that's how you operate, and I doubt it, you're delusional.”

Across the room the waiter rolled his eyes. It looked like a long night shaping up.