In the morning I decided to put aside all wishful thinking that things would work out on their own. The more I tried not to think about Bill’s message or Rory’s death, the more I obsessed about it. I’m not a big believer in coincidences, so the fact Bill knew Rory made me think the worst. It didn’t take a big leap to conclude Rory’s death and Bill’s warnings were linked. On the other hand, while I still didn’t believe Bill had what it takes to kill, I thought it more likely he risked exposure on some deal he and Rory had concocted.
I tapped numbers into my phone. “Abby, Hollis. I need to get out. Do you have you any plans after work?”
“No, let’s get together. I could use the distraction.”
We agreed to meet at the Pause Wine Bar on Market Street in San Francisco. It had a small, healthy menu, well-matched with the best eco-friendly wine selection in Northern California.
Even on a weeknight the bar was relatively busy, and I parked a block away. Abby had already arrived. She waved at me from a far corner table near a window.
“I hope you’re paying,” Abby said with a grin. “I’m on a strict budget. I’m saving up for a new car and it doesn’t allow for midweek dinners.” She opened the menu.
“In that case,” I said, smiling back, “you can order anything you want as long as it’s a salad.”
In fact, the salads looked tasty and we each ordered one, along with glasses of Sauvignon Blanc.
She took a sip of water. “Hollis, I want to apologize for giving you such a hard time. You were right to get the club together. I was wrong. We did need closure.”
“I’m not sure a lot got accomplished.” I caught the eye of our waiter, who motioned that we were next.
She shrugged. “We got it out of our systems. That was important.”
“Abby, what do you really think about Rory’s killer? It has to be one of us, right? On the other hand, how stupid would one of the members have to be to commit murder in the same way as a book we just read? It would point the finger at him—or her—as well.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her forehead creased.
“Who do you think Rory was blackmailing?”
Abby reached for her purse as if to get up, then paused and reached inside. Pulling out hand sanitizer, she offered it to me before rubbing it on.
I shook my head, pretending not to notice her trembling hand.
“I don’t know. It could be anyone. I mean …”
Our salads and drinks came at that moment, and I took the opportunity to rein in my impatience. I hadn’t spoken about my past life to anyone except—in a sketchy version—Marla. My family kept their distance. Other than perfunctory Christmas and birthday calls, we never talked about the time I served. Still, I needed Abby to trust me, so I’d have to trust her. Anyway, all of our pasts were likely to be revealed all too soon.
“The police found my ex-husband’s name in Rory’s address book,” I said.
She looked up. “I didn’t know you were ever married. How long have you been divorced?”
“My marriage was relatively short. I divorced him while I was in prison.”
Abby was silent. I waited for her to comment.
“Could you pass the … what is this, crostini at an Asian restaurant?”
I ignored the remark and passed the basket to her. “Rory was blackmailing Richard.”
Abby frowned and seemed to be deliberately avoiding my eyes.
“Richard thought Rory was blackmailing me,” I continued, “because Rory appeared to point to me at our last meeting. He wasn’t pointing at me; I was standing and talking to you. Rory was pointing at you, wasn’t he, Abby?”
She picked up a napkin and slowly dabbed at her mouth. Finally, she nodded. “I didn’t know he was my blackmailer until the police told me. They say they have some kind of proof. Remember our meeting in January? When I went to my car? There was a letter under my wiper blade. The writer—now I know it was Rory—claimed to know about my prison record.”
“How did he—”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Worse, he somehow knew about my life now.”
“Why did you spend time in prison?”
Silence.
I picked at my salad until she was ready to talk.
She waited a moment more. “I used to be married, too. I still am. We never got a divorce. Even now, though we live apart, we’re trying to make it work. I was the one who dragged him down. He was doing okay until he met me.” Tears began to glisten in her eyes. “I worked as an executive for a large pharmaceutical supply company. The charge in Sacramento Superior Court was ‘Misstatement of Services Rendered or Goods Provided.’ ”
I must have looked confused.
“I went up for fraud,” she explained.
She went back into her purse. If I hadn’t known her better, I would have sworn she was looking for cigarettes. I wanted one, and I didn’t even smoke.
“I take it your current employer wouldn’t look kindly upon a felony record?”
Abby’s shoulders sagged. “When I got out, I wanted nothing to do with my past. I learned my lesson inside. Wallace got me a job as a museum assistant. That was okay for a while, but it paid peanuts. I was bored. I began going to school at night to get certified as a hospital administrator. It was … it was a career I knew something about and it was challenging. Early on, I worked in various positions in small local hospitals. I eventually caught the eye of a hospital board member in the East Bay and they offered me a fantastic position. I was off parole and, with the help of a friend who worked in personnel, I got around the background check, so …”
I smiled to give her reassurance as I said, “Hey, I may have left a line or two off my résumé, too.”
“Yes well, it was a little more than a line or two, but you get the idea.” She rested her forehead on her hands. “Every day I wonder how I could have allowed myself to get into this mess. I come from a straight-laced American family. My parents were loving people who taught their children to do the right thing. I married my college sweetheart.”
Our waiter came by to check on us and Abby stopped speaking. I was afraid she would change the subject.
She took a few bites of salad. “I guess it started to go bad when Paul, my husband, said he wanted children. Suddenly it was all he talked about. It was as if he had the ticking biological clock instead of me. I couldn’t stand the thought of having someone dependent on me. I didn’t want to share my time or money. Paul made a good salary, but not good enough to support my spending habit. To make a long story short, I ran through my money and his. Soon I crossed a line and started dreaming up ways to take other people’s money.”
I hoped my mouth wasn’t hanging open. I never would have guessed that selfless Abby, who did so much for our club, could have ever been a thief.
“How do you think Rory found out where you work?”
“I don’t know. Remember, up until a couple of days ago, I honestly didn’t know it was Rory. I never heard his voice. I still find it hard to believe. I’d changed my name to protect myself, as well as Paul.” She frowned. “I bet I know what you’re thinking, but Paul would never put me at risk.”
She was wrong. I wasn’t thinking of Paul, only that Rory’s behavior was starting to make sense.
“He may have tried to get something on each of us.” I spoke more to myself than to Abby. “Still, Wallace is the only person who has our histories. He could have revealed everything a long time ago. I refuse to believe he’s involved in blackmail.”
“Hollis, there’s more. If it was Rory at the money drop the night he was killed, he stayed in the dark. A note left on my windshield told me to put the money in a certain can in an alley. When I got there, a typed note was taped to the top saying this was my last payment. I didn’t have to worry about meeting him again.”
“Well, that was polite of him. Of course it was Rory. Didn’t you think it was someone you knew when he didn’t allow you to hear his voice?”
Abby shook her head. “Well, now I would assume that, but I just thought he wanted to make sure I couldn’t identify him. Anyway, when I got in my car, this other car pulled in the lot. I didn’t hang around. I just got out of there.”
“You saw the killer?”
“I saw a silver car. It looked like a Mercedes, but it could have been a BMW. I don’t know who was in it. I didn’t get a good look. It could have nothing to do with the murder.”
“Get real. I hope you told the police. Even if it wasn’t the killer, that person might know something. You have to go to the police.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? If they find out you withheld information, you’ll be in even more trouble. They could decide you did it.”
“I know. I know.” She twisted her glass on its coaster.
I leaned back in the seat and gazed out the window. People moved busily down the sidewalk. It never ceased to amaze me how normal things looked when all hell was breaking loose in my life.
“Why’d you decide to tell me all this?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I want you to tell the police.”
I gave her what I hoped was an incredulous look. “Me? Just what good do you think that will do?”
She leaned into the table. “I don’t want you to tell the police what I saw. I want you to tell them you saw it.”
I almost fell off my chair. “You have got to be kidding.”
Abby gasped. A shadow came over our table and I looked up.
Avery Mitchell stood tall and handsome at my side. “Good evening, ladies. Hollis, I saw you from across the room and just wanted to say hello.”
Abby gave me a questioning look.
“Abby, this is Avery Mitchell, one of the senior attorneys at the law firm where I work. Avery—Abby Caldwell.”
Avery nodded and shook Abby’s offered hand. “You’ve discovered one of my favorite hangouts. You seem engrossed. I’ll be on my way.”
Abby gave him a tentative smile. “Maybe we could use a break.”
Avery and I exchanged looks. He straightened up.
“No. Maybe another time. I’m meeting my brother. He’s running a little late.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’d better get back to my table. Ladies, have a pleasant dinner.” At that he turned and moved smoothly through the twisted path of tables.
Abby squinted at his back. “Attorneys make me nervous. You work at a law firm?”
“I’m a paralegal.” I smiled.
She didn’t smile back. “Don’t brag. I never want to see another lawyer again. Although, it is interesting.”
“What?”
“Our table isn’t in his line of sight. Maybe he was looking for you. Is he your boyfriend? Is this one of your regular haunts?”
I shook my head. “Enough with the interrogation. He has a better pool of candidates. Let’s get back to the subject at hand. You can’t really be asking me to speak to the police for you.”
“You’re right. Just forget it.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin and pulled out her wallet. “What’s the check?”
“I’ll treat. I said I would.” I took out a credit card. “Don’t be upset with me. Let’s come up with some other plan.”
“I spoke to you in confidence. I hope I didn’t make a mistake. Like I said, just forget it. Won’t be the first bad idea I’ve had.” She rose. “I’ll tell the police. I agree with you. It’s the right thing to do.”
She didn’t fool me. I knew she had absolutely no intention of talking to the police.