No Love Lost Page 11

  She paused for a minute and I could sense reluctance in her voice when she continued. “I don’t think she is going to do Hal a lot of good, Gracie Lee. She kept insisting that it was okay that she had Nicole’s stuff because the man had given it to her.”

  That sounded even worse. “Go on,” I urged, even though I knew I’d hear things I didn’t want to hear.

  “She told Ray and anybody else who’d listen that the man had thrown her out of where she was staying. But before he did that, he gave her the jacket and Nicole’s credit card and keys, and told her never to come back.”

  Even with Zoë‘s mental health history to take into account, Hal didn’t look too good right now. This could all be a part of Zoë‘s delusions, but if it wasn’t, my ex-husband had a lot of complicated explaining to do. For the first time my belief in his total innocence crumbled just a little. If he’d neglected to mention something this important there had to be a reason. I just couldn’t think of any that made sense if he had nothing to do with his fiancée’s death.

  *

  Friday morning came and with it my only paid shift at the Coffee Corner for the weekend. When I worked I turned off my cell phone and gave my undivided attention to the work, even as a barista. I figured I needed to get used to leaving my two worlds separate because in another six months or so I could be in a counseling job somewhere. Working for Pacific Oaks as a counselor would be fantastic and so would working for the community college where Heather worked. Still, I couldn’t worry about that too much now. For now I’m a student and barista, both of which take a lot of time. Worry over a possible job after graduation just doesn’t fit into the picture.

  The reduced number of faculty, staff and students on campus meant a light load for the morning. We got a lot of things done that usually had to wait until the coffee shop closed. By the time I finished my shift at one, the equipment all shone inside and out and I’d learned a couple new tricks on the blenders that make all our frozen summer concoctions. I turned my cell phone back on while I walked to my car in the parking lot.

  Four new messages popped up on my voice mail. I listened to them all before I started my drive home. Hal’s voice came up twice, sounding more agitated the second time. Ben called once, letting me know he’d gotten one step closer to a summer job and was going to go to the store to fill out paperwork and get the forms to take to a lab for a drug test. That sounded strange to me at first, but I suspect that in this day and age a lot of places want their employees to take a drug test before they start work there. At least they appeared to be serious about offering him a job.

  The last message left me unsure of how to react. Only a day before Ray Fernandez said we’d have no contact with each other. Now here was his voice on my phone. “Hi, Gracie Lee. I promised to keep you in the loop about everything important that I could. I’ve left word with Ms. Barnes’s family that her remains will be released to the funeral director of their choice by tomorrow morning. And I had to call your ex to ask him to come in to the station. If he doesn’t have one already, it’s probably time for him to retain the services of a lawyer. Sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Anger that Hal was being questioned based on the word of a disturbed and possibly delusional individual warred with gratitude that Ray kept true to his word and told me everything. At least I now knew why Hal’s messages sounded so stressed. Given his business dealings in the Los Angeles area he more than likely had legal contacts. I debated on whether to call him or to just drive to Tuscany Hills. Pretty soon my car is going to know the way by itself.

  Hal’s kitchen got more familiar with every trip to his house. By now I could make coffee without asking questions. While he sat at the kitchen table and made phone calls, I did just that. Judging from his end of the conversations Ellie didn’t seem to be on speaking terms with him any more. How much had she learned from the sheriff’s department? With Ray in charge I couldn’t imagine she had much official information.

  About the time I put a steaming mug of coffee in front of him Hal finished his fourth or fifth call. “Well, I now have one thing I never thought I’d need a criminal attorney. And if I can’t convince Ellie Barnes otherwise, I’m going to have no part in planning Nicole’s memorial service.” He buried his head in his hands. “How on earth did things come to this?” His voice cracked.

  What should I say? I didn’t want to reveal more than I should about what Zoë told the sheriff’s department, but then again she’d apparently told the whole sheriff’s department most of it, along with anybody else on the lower level of the building last night. “You already said that you didn’t tell the police everything about your argument with Nicole Friday night. Is there anything else you might not have shared with them?” I hated to use the same tone and kind of question I used to use with Ben when I wanted information, but if it worked so well with one Harris male, why not try on another?

  When Hal looked up his eyes were red and he held back tears. “I can’t tell them everything that happened on Friday and Saturday. If I do, Nicole’s image with her co-workers and the doctoral program will be shot to pieces.”

  I took his hand across the table, making him look me in the face. “If you know something you’re not telling, you’ve got two choices. You can damage a dead woman’s reputation or you can probably be charged with her murder. Is protecting her worth it, Hal?”

  He gave a shuddering sigh. “It should be. If she were still alive I wouldn’t say anything. But I don’t know what’s right anymore in this situation, or even if the police will believe me if I tell them the truth.”

  “Would you like to pray about it? That’s what I normally do with the biggest decisions in my life these days.” Okay, so I stepped out on a limb here. We’re supposed to be bold in our faith, right?

  Hal surprised me. “I’ve got nothing to lose. Start me out, because I’m not sure I can do this out loud myself.”

  He grasped both of my hands with a grip I might have protested as being way too strong under any other circumstances. I closed my eyes to center myself in order to find the right words. What I said might not have been eloquent, but it led Hal to continue the prayer on his own. His words were heartfelt and fervent, and when he finished he pulled our still joined hands to his lips.

  “Well, you could have waited until Nicole was cold, couldn’t you?” At the acerbic words from his mother, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Hal let go of my hands as if he’d been scalded.

  My former mother-in-law hadn’t changed much in the three years since I’d seen her last. She still colored her hair in the brunette shade that had probably been natural when Ben was a toddler. Her long, thin face wore the same expression of distaste seeing me always gave her. Hands on her hips, she glared at me with a look that could have ignited the kitchen matches next to the stove.

  I pushed my chair back and stood up slowly. “Lillian, you’ve always known exactly the wrong thing to say to me, but this one takes the cake,” I told her. Her outburst even left Hal just sitting there with his mouth open, unable to say anything. I looked down at him, ignoring the now-spluttering woman I wanted no part of. “Call me soon. We’ll figure out your next step.” And picking up my purse, I walked out and drove home. All the way home I prayed for God’s peace for Hal, and the wisdom for him to do the right thing, both where Nicole was concerned and to avoid strangling his mother. The first would be far easier than the second.

  *

  Dealing with Lillian always makes me lose it, even when she’s relatively benign. We never hit it off to begin with, and after she pushed Hal into baptizing our premature daughter and naming her after his sister, Emily, any desire I had to get along with her vanished. Our baby died as early in life as the aunt she’d been named for, and her death meant the death of our marriage. Lillian blamed me for Hal never pursuing the career she wanted for him in medicine and I blamed her for pushing our divorce.

  In retrospect I probably shouldn’t give her all the credit for that divorce, but the
n she ought to admit by now that her son bypassed medical school because he didn’t have the ambition to be a doctor the way his mother wanted him to. He did just fine in his undergrad in psychology, and he’d used it with great skill to help build the home security business with his father.

  In my growth as a Christian so far I’ve been able to make peace with a lot of people and by God’s grace I can forgive most of them. I know someday I’ll get to that point with Lillian, at least I hope so. I’m pretty sure it’s what God would have me do, but so far she’s my biggest stumbling block. And incidents like the one in Hal’s kitchen didn’t help any.

  Once I got home I turned off my cell phone, resolved to let the machine pick up the apartment phone, perhaps for the whole weekend, and went to the Morgans’ house to either vent to my friend and landlady Dot or to borrow a dog for a long, vigorous walk.

  I’d lost track of time, forgetting that Dot and Buck take Dixie and Hondo out as therapy dogs virtually every Friday afternoon. So I ended up walking by myself, still briskly and for a long while, and talked to God while I walked. This time I made sure all my talking was silent, because I couldn’t get Zoë and the way people looked at her out of my mind.

  *

  When I returned, feeling much calmer and very tired, the apartment phone ringing made me go to look at the Caller ID. Since the display showed Ben’s cell phone I answered. “I got the job,” he crowed. “How about we celebrate by having me bring home pizza?”

  “Sure. Will that be pizza for two or three?”

  “Let’s make it three. I’ll pick up Cai Li on the way home.”

  “Great. And I’ll make a salad to go along with the pizza.” In the six days since their big decision I hadn’t had any real time with both of the kids together. They were serious about getting married, and I probably needed all the practice I could get at being somebody’s mother-in-law. After my set-to with Lillian today I wanted to make sure to try my best to avoid that kind of relationship with Cai Li. Nobody deserves as much strife as Lillian and I created with each other.

  The three of us spent the evening celebrating Ben’s new status as an employed person with pizza, salad, soda and a couple rounds of board games that gave us all the giggles. I spent as little time as possible thinking about Hal or talking about him. I told Ben the latest things we knew for certain about Zoë‘s statement to the sheriff’s department. I shared my concerns about his father without telling Ben anything confidential about Hal and Nicole, and mentioned as little as possible about Lillian. While Ben’s relationship with his grandmother wasn’t the best, it was light-years better than mine and I saw no reason to possibly poison that.

  Ben in turn shared the details of his training so far, what he’d be going through on Saturday and showed us the yellow shirt with his new company logo that he’d be wearing on the job. “So does being hired mean you’ll have to shave?” I asked hopefully.

  He smiled sweetly and patted my shoulder. “Sorry, Mom. You’re out of luck on that one. I can keep the beard as long as it’s neat. I may need a bit of a haircut, though, because I need to keep the sides above my ears and the back off my collar.”

  “Rats. I might as well learn to like that goatee, because it looks like it’s here for a while.” I tried not to look too disappointed. I could think of half a dozen things that might be worth arguing about—facial hair wasn’t one of them.

  True to my resolve, I avoided answering the phones the rest of the evening and all of Saturday morning. I felt a brief pang of guilt for telling Hal to call me, then not answering the phone, but I still wasn’t ready to deal with his problems again. Scattering sticky notes on every relevant page of the stack of books I’d checked out of the library for my final project kept me busy until about noon. By then my grumbling stomach had started to tell me I needed to take a break for lunch.

  A knock on the door got me up from my chair just after I’d started to do a mental inventory of the fridge. I looked out the window to see who my visitor might be, and decided to open the door anyway.

  “This not-seeing-each-other thing just isn’t working out, is it?” Ray asked. Even though I knew he wasn’t here just to visit, he looked so good. “I can’t fault you for not keeping your end of the bargain, because you haven’t answered either of your phones for at least twenty-four hours.”

  “This is true. You weren’t the main reason for my not communicating, but I saw it as a bonus this time. For a change I followed your instructions to the letter.”

  He shook his head, apparently not sure whether to wince or grin. “How about I take you out to lunch somewhere nice and public and ask you a bunch of questions while we eat?”

  “Sounds terribly romantic.” At that he grimaced. “Let me get my keys and leave a note for Ben and I’ll be ready to go.”

  TWELVE

  Ray drove and we went to Mi Familia, a family-owned Mexican grill near my place that makes awesome fish tacos. Ray’s been a regular there much longer than I have, and he still has to argue once in a while to be able to pay for his food. The owners would like to give it to him, but I’m glad he stays on the level and pays every time.

  This time I even let him buy mine, because he told me this would be a business lunch. In a few minutes we sat at a corner table with a couple of tacos apiece and Ray’s familiar notebook and pen on the table. He tells me a lot of people have switched to electronic devices for their notes and such, but I don’t think he trusts them. We ate in silence for a while, with him looking over his notes. His cramped handwriting didn’t lend itself to being read upside down, so I gave up and just ate my fish tacos.

  Ray finished one of his tacos, wiped his mouth with a napkin even though I could have told him he looked fine, and looked at his notes one last time. “Okay, do you mind if I start asking you a few things while you eat?”

  “Go ahead. I’ll try to be polite.”

  “Have you mentioned anything about Nicole’s missing keys to anybody?”

  “One person. I told Linnette about it right after Catalina mentioned it to me. According to Cat, Nicole misplaced a lot of things. But then you probably know that already.”

  He didn’t confirm or deny that, just went on watching me and asking questions. “So Linnette is the only person you even mentioned that to? You didn’t tell Ben, or his father?”

  “No. I can’t think of any reason Ben would need to know that. I’ve said as little about Nicole as possible to him besides what’s been in the paper or what’s basically common knowledge. And I expected Hal to mention it to me if he knew about it, which I doubt he did.”

  Ray leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

  “Cat implied that Nicole kept her bad habits at work. Hal’s always been kind of a clean freak with a high need for organization. He’s the kind of guy who alphabetizes his CDs.”

  “Hey, what’s wrong with that?”

  I felt the urge to bury my head in my hands. “Don’t tell me you do that, too?”

  He looked away from me for a moment. “I might.”

  “Hmm. Maybe that part isn’t so strange, after all. But unless other things have changed a great deal, Hal wouldn’t react well to hearing that Nicole misplaced something as important as a set of car keys. Especially when I suspect he bought her the car fairly recently.”

  Ray looked thoughtful. “So it might not be surprising that he’s the only one close to her who hasn’t mentioned the car keys?”

  “Not if the others you’ve talked to are her friends at work and perhaps her family.”

  He wrote something in his notebook and didn’t say anything else for a while, letting both of us concentrate on lunch for a short time. Once he finished about half his taco he looked at me again. Ray seemed fidgety or uncomfortable, which made me wonder what kind of question would come next.

  He couldn’t quite meet my gaze all the way. “You’ve said Mr. Harris could be quite disapproving at times. Did he ever go past that to abuse, either verbal or physical?”

 
I put down my food, suddenly not very hungry anymore. “I can understand why you have to ask something like that. It’s part of your investigation, and I am his ex-wife. But it still hurts a little to have to talk about it with you. No, Hal never harmed me. I only wish I could say the same about his mother.”

  I’d never seen a look on Ray’s face quite like the one my statement prompted. “I’ll put my notebook down so that this is totally off the record, but I want to hear more about that, Gracie.” True to his word, he closed the notebook and put down his pen. Then he took my hand in his and focused those warm golden-brown eyes on me. Well, that made the floodgates open up for sure. More than sixteen years of hurt came pouring out while Ray listened.

  By the time I’d finished I’d used at least two napkins to wipe tears away and Ray still held my hand. He may not have gotten all the information he wanted, but he’d certainly earned points with me in the relationship arena. “Aren’t you sorry you asked?” I said, my voice still a little choked up and my throat a bit scratchy from talking and crying.

  “Not at all. Hearing all of that taught me a good deal about three different people, and I think you all will matter quite a bit in the course of this investigation.”

  “What could Lillian possibly have to do with it all? When Nicole died, Hal’s mom was in Tennessee and probably has a couple hundred witnesses to that, seeing as she must have been in the airport in Nashville instead of a beach in California.”

  “I know that it’s not possible that either of Mr. Harris’s parents actually killed Nicole Barnes. But they raised him and provided the behavior he would think of as normal. Looking at a person’s family is often the key to understanding their actions and knowing what they’re capable of.”

  His words made me wonder if Ray thought that Hal might be capable of murder, given his upbringing. Even as mean-mouthed as his mother is, I couldn’t imagine he’d inherited anything from her but the ability to use sarcasm to wound those around him. I didn’t want to ask Ray anything more because I would rather not put any more ideas in his astute head. Now that I’d finished crying I felt terribly aware of how I must look. I wanted to hide for a few minutes with a comb, mirror and lipstick.