Chapter 45

Frances Noonan drove to the last prison visit feeling bittersweet. Even Enid Carmichael made it the whole three hours in the car without a word of complaint.

The women at the prison were clearly pleased by the results of the quilts. They thanked the Fog Ladies and said the quilting was one of the highlights of the year.

The women who had visitors on Christmas were especially grateful, and several brought cards they made themselves. The Fog Ladies passed out photographs they had taken of the families together at Christmas. Some of the women cried.

As Frances Noonan took her place next to Serena, she could see the young woman was down.

“I look forward to this, to you coming. You treat me like a real person. I get to talk like an adult, about adult topics like world news and books and theater. I’ll miss you.”

Mrs. Noonan put her hand on Serena’s. Mrs. Noonan’s skin was dry and wrinkled and had several large brown splotches. Serena’s was smooth and supple. Mrs. Noonan couldn’t remember when her skin had changed. In sixteen years, would Serena’s hand look like Mrs. Noonan’s? No, certainly not.

“I’ll be back to just talking to my girls and my brother. Which is fine. I know I’m lucky to have them,” Serena said.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Noonan, screwing up her courage to ask about the insurance money as a motive. How could she ask this woman if her brother, her one and only lifeline, could be a murderer? “About that, about your brother…”

Serena looked at her expectantly.

“He recommended that you and your husband get your high insurance policies? He was an insurance man himself? And he now controls your girls’ money? Do you think there could be a connection?” There. She just said it.

Serena looked at her blankly. Then she started to laugh. “My brother? You think my brother killed David?”

Mrs. Noonan sat silently.

Serena moved her hand out from under Mrs. Noonan’s and wiped a tear from her eye, she was laughing so hard.

“Thank goodness I never had to even remotely wonder about that. He was the first call I made after I was arrested, to his home phone here in California. He was in California, not Illinois. So don’t be getting any ideas.”

Mrs. Noonan inhaled and exhaled, more relieved than she realized. She remembered the affable man she’d met at Christmas. He looked so much like his sister. The twins clung to him as they left, and he had kissed Serena and said, “See you next week, Sis. Hold in there. I love you. We’ll be back.”

“I don’t have any ideas,” Mrs. Noonan said truthfully. “I very much enjoyed meeting him at Christmas.” Thankfully, Serena didn’t seem offended by the whole idea. More like amused.

On that last day, they discussed widowhood. Serena’s smile faded. She said one of the hardest things was grieving the loss of her husband while in jail for his murder.

Mrs. Noonan contemplated this. Losing a husband was bad enough. Grieving was bad enough.

She didn’t answer Serena directly. She still didn’t know what was true and what was hopeful memory regarding David Evans’s death. The mind could play tricks over time. If Serena’s brother hadn’t killed David, the pool of suspects was shrinking. And Serena was at the top of the list. Murderess or not, Mrs. Noonan had to admit, she enjoyed talking to Serena. The woman had charisma.

Serena didn’t look charismatic now. She was near tears.

“The last words I said to him were, ‘Go to hell.’ We were fighting. I don’t even remember what about. Such a waste. I loved him. And the last thing I said before he died was, ‘Go to hell.’”

Mrs. Noonan hugged her. Without thinking, she said, “He knows you love him.” She wondered if she meant it, if she knew in her heart of hearts that Serena hadn’t killed him.

The two hours were nearly over. Mrs. Noonan had asked before, but she needed to make absolutely sure. As they gathered the materials, she asked about Spencer Tremaine and anything else Serena could remember. Serena said the only other thing was that he was the one who had arranged for the transfer to California.

“For that, even though I never liked the man, I will always be grateful. It seemed like he felt guilty and was trying to make it up to me.”

“Guilty?” Mrs. Noonan perked up.

“I guess he felt bad about not getting me off,” Serena said.

“Hmm,” said Mrs. Noonan. The women lined up to go and she still had more questions. She wanted to sound casual, but she couldn’t think of a segue, so she just asked.

“Have you ever been to Big Sur? It’s a beautiful part of our state.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” said Serena. “I had never been to California before this. Hard to believe, I know, especially with my brother here. I’ve been all over the world, but somehow never made it out west. What a shame. Now I may never see it.”

“Oh, dear, that can’t be. In sixteen years, you’ll still be a spring chicken. With a full life in front of you. When I was in my fifties, I was in my prime. Dear, you’ll see. And it may not be sixteen years. The warden told us you’re a model prisoner. You may get out early, for good behavior or something.”

“Or something. I keep trying to tell myself this. I keep trying. Four years has seemed an eternity. I can’t imagine sixteen more.”

They were silent. Mrs. Noonan looked at the beautiful woman next to her and thought of the girls she’d met at Christmas. Serena was right. Such a waste.

Before they parted, Mrs. Noonan rattled off the names of everyone who worked at Paradise Cove Resort. She had Mrs. Gordon describe the men as best she could. Serena shook her head and laughed. “What an inquisition. I thought I was done with inquisitions.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I have a good reason for asking. A friend’s son is in trouble. Trouble like you. I’m trying to help.”

“I understand,” said Serena. “I thought you must be here for something other than good works. Though I thank you for coming. Anything to have something to look forward to.”

“I’ll write to you,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“And I’ll write back. I write a lot of letters in here. We don’t have access to anything electronic.”

Mrs. Noonan placed a photo into Serena’s hand of Serena and her brother and her girls from the Christmas visit. The girls wore matching red satin dresses and their first pairs of stockings instead of socks. Her brother had a green sweater. Serena was in her orange jumpsuit, but her smile lit up the picture.

“God bless,” said Mrs. Noonan.

Serena didn’t say anything. She pressed the photo to her chest and joined the line of women filing out.