Consider the Crows Page 12

  Ingram looked at Parkhurst as though surprised he was still there. “She was just a baby. Rose never told her she was adopted. Lynnelle only found out after Rose died, when she was going through her mother’s things. On top of her grief, she suddenly learned Rose wasn’t her real mother. She was hysterical, crying that she didn’t know who she was and everybody lied to her. I tried to comfort her but she—”

  His voice caught and he bent his head. “I tried to help her. She’s my daughter. I love her.”

  “What can you tell us about the adoption?”

  “Such a pretty little girl,” he said so softly she had to lean forward to hear him. “Quiet and sweet.”

  “The adoption, Mr. Ingram.”

  “Nothing. I don’t believe even Rose knew. She was so delighted to have a baby, she didn’t want to know. I think back in her mind, she was afraid Lynnelle wouldn’t love her as much. I told her, Lynnelle, I told her I’d help. We could find her mother. But she—she wouldn’t. She didn’t want my help.”

  Gently, but relentlessly, Susan worked at getting information. Who were Lynnelle’s friends, what did she like to do, did she have a boyfriend, did she mention any problems, any trouble with anyone, talk about her job, was she worried or anxious. Ingram, in a bewildered and confused manner, tried to answer, but it was clear he didn’t really know much about his stepdaughter.

  “When did you last see her, Mr. Ingram?”

  He waited a moment as though it took some time for the question to reach him. “On Saturday. I saw her on Saturday.”

  The day Lynnelle was killed. “What time was that?”

  “Around seven-thirty, I believe,” he said slowly. “I went to her house, but she was going out somewhere, to see someone.”

  “Who?”

  He just shook his head.

  Dr. Egersund, Susan thought. “Since you were here on Saturday, Mr. Ingram, why are you back today?”

  “I wanted her to come home where she belongs.”

  “She didn’t want to go home?” Parkhurst asked.

  Ingram rubbed his forehead, then pressed a thumb and fingers against his eyelids. Susan got the impression the question made him cautious. “She was upset, confused.”

  “You know a Dr. Kalazar?” Parkhurst’s voice sounded harsh after Susan’s quiet questions.

  “I can’t say that I do.”

  “No? You have an appointment with her.”

  Ingram nodded. “But I have yet to meet her. I’ve only spoken with her on the phone.”

  “Why did you want to see her?”

  “I fail to see why the police are interested in my appointment with Dr. Kalazar.”

  Parkhurst put on his polite face of patient waiting.

  Ingram blinked twice, paused, then blinked again, as though getting his thoughts together. “I wanted to explain about Lynnelle. She wasn’t well. I felt Dr. Kalazar should know.”

  Parkhurst’s expression changed from polite to suspicious. “Why?”

  “In case Lynnelle said something that might be misunderstood.”

  “Like what?”

  “I felt if I explained, Dr. Kalazar would agree Lynnelle shouldn’t be working there.”

  “You wanted Lynnelle fired?”

  “I only wanted what was best for her.” Ingram pushed himself up from the couch. “I don’t believe I can answer any more questions.”

  “Of course,” Susan said.

  When they got back to the hotel, Susan asked him, “Will you be staying for a while, Mr. Ingram?”

  He looked at her and said vaguely, “I want to take her home. I’ll bury her next to her mother.”

  After seeing Ingram safely inside, Parkhurst headed the Bronco back to the travel agency, where she’d left the pickup, and she glanced through her notes. Confirmation Lynnelle was adopted. Egersund had some more questions to answer.

  “Well,” she said to Parkhurst.

  For a second he seemed startled, dark eyes suddenly wary. A little buzz of confusion broke up her thoughts. She looked away and fumbled for a cigarette. What did he think I was going to say? She sneaked a glance at him. If he didn’t loosen his hands on the steering wheel, he was going to permanently lose all circulation.

  What was the matter with him anyway? They’d finally arrived at a working relationship and now this. Goddamn it. She counted on him for clarifying her thoughts. Whatever he was stewing over, she wished he’d get it resolved. Put your personal life in order or leave it at home. “What did you think of Ingram?”

  He grunted. “Lynnelle didn’t want anything to do with him, told him to leave her alone. All this because she discovered she was adopted? Or was there something more in there?”

  “He loved her.”

  “All kinds of things are done in the name of love.”

  “You suggesting he might have killed her?”

  Parkhurst shrugged. “He tracked her down, said come live with me and be my child. She said get lost stepdaddy, I never liked you anyway. He could have gotten mad, hit her and drowned her in the creek.”

  “Why come back?”

  “Find out if we were on his trail, realized people knew he’d been here and he’d better work up a good story. The appointment with Kalazar. Hell, come to take darling stepdaughter home in a box since she wouldn’t go any other way.”

  He angled the Bronco in beside the pickup. It was three-thirty and she’d not yet gotten around to lunch. She started to suggest they stop somewhere for a sandwich, then changed her mind. She didn’t want to put any more strain on the delicate balance between them. She stopped at a fast-food restaurant, ordered a cheeseburger and Coke and took them back to the pickup.

  * * *

  After two already, Sophie thought. Day’s getting on. And those hard-boiled eggs she’d snacked on didn’t take her very far. Parking the white Chevy at the edge of the park, she poked through the red and gold tapestry bag on the seat beside her. Cold enough, should keep people away. They scared the cat and she couldn’t catch him even with dried liver treats.

  Bag over her arm and black coat buttoned, she stumped toward the park, muttering to herself. Two women about to enter stepped out of her way, stared at her and decided to go someplace else. She darted across dead grass, skirted the pond and crept toward the shrubbery behind the band shell. The gray cat sometimes sheltered there. She’d been trying to capture him for weeks. Scared, he was, poor thing, ribs all sticking out. Must have been on his own a long time. At least, he was eating the food she left.

  Squatting, she parted branches and peered into the thicket. There he was, huddled deep inside. She shook dried liver into a palm, held it out and crooned, “Hello, lovey. Yes, now. Food. Try a little. Just a little. So good.”

  As she murmured reassuringly, she crept closer. The cat inched backwards, watching her unwaveringly. He was so hungry, she thought sure he’d overcome his fear and try for the bait. Then she’d grab him.

  Almost there. He was wary, but he stopped edging away. Just another two feet. Suddenly, he flattened and then was gone in a flash.

  “Bah,” she breathed and laboriously turned herself around to see what had frightened him. A boy stood in the shadow of the band shell, hands in the pockets of a blue letter jacket, gaze sweeping the park.

  She squinted at him through the branches. Student. Bah. Ordinarily, she didn’t pay much attention to students—they came and went, seemed faster all the time, and always stayed the same age—and they had a nasty habit of getting cats and then abandoning them when they left. She knew this one though. That Nick Julie Kalazar was so taken with. Why didn’t he move on? The cat would never come back while he was there.

  Cramps began to seize her legs and she shifted. Now, this is just ridiculous. She was starting to work her way out of the shrubbery when another boy in a gray sweatshirt jogged up to him. Why weren’t they in classes? None of this wandering around when she was in school. Sat at a desk and paid attention.

  They spoke to each other, but she was too far away
to hear what they said. Nick took a small package from his pocket and the other boy took something from the pouch of his sweatshirt. They exchanged and set off in opposite directions.

  At least they didn’t hang around. Maybe the cat will come back. She waited. “Getting stiff as an old pump handle.”

  She thrashed her way out, then stood and rubbed one knee. Being old was exhausting. She clomped off around the band shell. One other spot the cat liked, beyond the pond. She couldn’t find him there either. “Now, that’s just too bad.” She tucked away the dried liver and went back to her car.

  Clouds like a thin layer of grimy cotton covered the sky as she drove out of town and into the country, all set for home. A gray cat popped out of the ditch on her left and streaked across the road in front of her. Stomping on the brakes, she watched with a sigh of relief as the cat skimmed down the opposite ditch, leaped up the other side and picked its way daintily through the empty field toward a grove of trees.

  It couldn’t be the homeless waif from the park. He wouldn’t be way out here. Well, she’d just better see. You never knew. And cold as it was, he might need a warm stove to sleep by. Upending the tapestry bag, she dumped the contents on the seat beside her, scrabbled through the pile for the cat treats, dropped them back in the bag and hung it over her arm.

  She crossed the ditch, scooted under the barbed wire and paused to catch her breath. With long strides, she set off for the trees. Way before she reached them, she slowed, walked softly and chirped to the cat.

  Her eyesight was excellent—especially long sight—even if she was on in years, and her head darted this way and that, looking for movement and a small spot of gray.

  Suddenly, she pulled herself up short and squinted. Down there, just under the trees. Now, what on earth is that doing there? Muttering to herself, she went to find out.

  13

  SUSAN BIT OFF a chunk of cheeseburger, then started the pickup and eased out into the traffic. The radio crackled. Transferring the burger to her left hand, she picked up the mike.

  “Wren,” she mumbled with her mouth full.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you,” Hazel said.

  Susan swallowed. “I stopped to grab something to eat.”

  “Hamburger, I suppose, and french fries,” Hazel said in tart reproach. “You know—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “—that’s not good for you.”

  “It’s food and it’s quick. What’s up?”

  “Sophie called.”

  “Now what?”

  “She found Audrey’s car.”

  The entire force was on the lookout for that car and Sophie found it? Goddamn it, no telling what evidence she messed up. “Where’s Parkhurst?”

  “On the way.” Hazel gave her the location and instructions on how to get there.

  Susan tore off a chunk of burger, washed it down with a swig of cola and headed out of town. The sky was a uniform gray, the color of lint in the pockets of jeans. So much for sunshine, and the day had started out so promising.

  Two and a half miles from town, she spotted Parkhurst’s Bronco parked at the edge of a graveled road and pulled in behind. The three strands of barbed wire had been cut and moved to one side. A car had churned through the mud getting into the field, but heavy rains had obliterated any distinctive treads and whatever footprints there might have been.

  She crossed the field and went down the slope to a grove of trees. Audrey Kalazar’s black Chrysler, mud-spattered and rain-streaked, was nosed up to a tree trunk. Parkhurst and three uniformed officers, along with a sheriff’s deputy, were combing the area. He gave her a shrug to indicate they’d found nothing so far. It was already after four o’clock; there wouldn’t be much daylight left for searching.

  Sophie, long black overcoat flapping around her ankles, stood some distance away, like a mourner waiting for the funeral to begin. No doubt, Parkhurst had told her to get lost and that was as far as she’d go.

  Osey Pickett, enormous hands and feet seeming to get in the way as usual, was going over the car. As Susan approached, he tossed straw-colored hair from his face and gave her an aw-shucks grin. He looked like a hayseed and played it up for all it was worth. When she first knew him, she’d had severe doubts about his mental ability, but she’d learned many things in the year she’d been here and right near the top was that Osey’s amiable manner was an effective cover for an exceptionally alert mind.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Dings and scratches,” Osey said. “Some fresh, from driving through the trees. Fingerprints on the passenger side, a few in the back. Only smudges on the wheel. Whoever drove last wore gloves. Keys were in the ignition.”

  The fistful of keys he handed her were attached to a silver letter A. How very like Audrey Kalazar to brand what was hers. They bounced in her hand with a solid clink. The blue feathers Egersund had found apparently hadn’t come from Kalazar’s key ring. Feathers weren’t her style anyway, silver was much more fitting. The car was empty and, like everything else Audrey Kalazar owned, immaculate.

  “Hey,” Sophie called, creeping closer. “Shouldn’t you open the trunk and see if Audrey’s inside?”

  Audrey was not in the trunk. There was nothing in the trunk but a jack and a spare tire, and even they were immaculate. No suitcase, no handbag or briefcase.

  The last of the daylight was rapidly fading, the sun managing a dying streak of orange.

  “Anything?” Susan asked Parkhurst.

  He shook his head. “We’ll go at it again in the morning.”

  She tossed Kalazar’s keys and he caught them with an upraised palm. “See what they belong to,” she said and left him and Osey to get the car towed in.

  “Something’s happened to Audrey,” Sophie said, striding along beside as Susan started back up the slope. “She’s a woman always where she says she’ll be. Good as her word and never allows anybody to question it. Even herself.”

  Susan’s mind was working along the same lines.

  “Now that husband Keith,” Sophie said. “What kind of a man sits on his backside all day making up stories? Up to things.” She clucked like a broody hen.

  “What things?”

  “Not for me to spread tales.”

  Ha.

  “Wouldn’t do to bring trouble down on foolish people who should know better. Weak, you know, and then making excuses.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Susan, you ought to keep your eyes and ears open. Otherwise, how you going to know what’s going on?”

  “Sophie, if you know anything, I expect you to tell me.”

  “Already told you all I know. If I knew any more, don’t you think I’d pass it on? Now, you just better get busy finding out what’s become of Audrey.” With a sweep of her coattails, Sophie slid into the Chevy.

  * * *

  George Halpern, seated at his desk, tossed down his pen when Susan came in, leaned back and clasped his hands across his rounded midsection. “What did you get from the car?”

  “Nothing that leaps out at first glance.” She dropped into a chair, slouched and stretched out her legs. She’d learned a lot about being chief in the past year, much of it from George, and she still relied heavily on him. Without him, her facade of cool poise would have been exposed for what it was. “Tell me about Keith Kalazar.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “I’m not sure. Sophie threw out some kind of hint he was up to something.”

  “We’re listening to Sophie now?”

  “Why not? She tracked down Audrey’s car. That’s more than we were able to do.”

  George took off his wire-rimmed glasses, making his pale blue eyes look tired, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. She felt a twinge of guilt; letting him work too hard, relying on him too much.

  He put back the glasses and his eyes shapened into focus. “Keith is a local boy made good. Father worked at the lumber mill. Friendly man, liked to talk, went fishing whene
ver he got the chance. Used to be some of the best catfish ever around here. Mother died in childbirth. They had the two girls and then Keith and then the last little girl. The whole bunch was taken in and raised by the mother’s sister. Don’t know that she was exactly pleased, but she did it. Keith was a handsome boy, always had girlfriends in tow.”

  “Would he have known Carena Egersund?”

  “Sure. She was a Gebhardt back then. They were kids the same age, went to school together right on up through high school.”

  “Did they have a love affair that might have resulted in a child?”

  “You looking for a connection between Audrey’s disappearance and Lynnelle’s murder?”

  “I don’t like coincidences. And the timing is right.”

  “It’s possible,” he said doubtfully. “As I remember her, Carena was quiet and studious. Not much of one for the boys. Had plans for herself. Always looking out for a younger sister. Something not quite right about that one, as I recall.”

  Picking up the pen, he tapped it against the desk while he thought. “Seems to me Carena left at the beginning of one summer, right after she graduated from high school. Off to work someplace and then on to college in the fall. The family moved to Missouri right around then. And if I remember true, Keith left at the end of that same summer. I doubt you can make much of that. He got himself a scholarship and went to school somewhere too. Colorado maybe. He was the only one in the family to get an education. They were all right proud of him, even if they were bewildered by what he chose to study.”

  “What, ballet?”

  “Worse than that.” George smiled. “Psychology. He taught at Emerson a short time, then married Audrey and pretty soon he quit teaching and commenced to write.”

  “Can you tell me anything about Audrey?”

  “Not much, she’s not local. Not greatly liked, puts people’s backs up. Respected, though. Knows her job and does it like God talking to Moses.”

  “Happy marriage?”

  George rubbed his jaw. “Oh, I think probably so. She runs things, acourse. Any threat of rebellion is squashed before it gets started.”

  “Keith puts up with that?”