Chapter 40

 

We sat out under the gazebo, Drake and I, late into the evening, bundled into a warm comforter with mugs of hot chocolate at hand.

“I talked with a young woman named Maria Greenwood,” he told me. “Her great-grandparents built the cabin in the 1930s and started a goat farm. Their name was Locke. As Maria recalled, the story was the goat venture didn’t succeed and the couple moved to Albuquerque to raise their children. When her husband died in an accident on the highway road crew where he worked, Sarah Locke became a writer. She moved to the cabin full time once her two daughters were grown, and she lived there into her nineties. When she died, the estate was sort of a mess. The next generation was aging and no one wanted the place. Maria said she’d only been there a few times as a child and couldn’t even remember how they got there except it involved an extremely long walk.”

“I wonder how such an elderly woman could manage.”

“I asked the same question. Maria said Sarah kept a horse and would load her groceries and such into saddle bags.”

“Wow—I can’t imagine.” Here I’d been buzzing all over the city in a speedy sports car. We take so many things for granted in modern life. “Earlier, you said you thought they would sell the place?”

“Maria is checking with the remaining heirs. Apparently, not thinking of the repercussions, Sarah left this, her only remaining property, to all her heirs, to be divided equally. It gave each of them such a pittance no one took charge. In the meantime, Sarah’s daughters have passed on and the next generation consists of Maria’s mother and an uncle who lives in Texas. Maria said she couldn’t see any reason they wouldn’t sell. We’re apparently the only people who’ve expressed an interest in the place in decades.”

I snuggled beside him, my thoughts vivid with images of an old woman living in the tiny cabin, writing her books and rarely going to town. I wondered how I would be in my senior years and found there was something immensely appealing about the pictures of Sarah Locke living independently, away from civilization. Next thing I knew, Drake was lifting my empty mug from my hands and suggesting we go to bed.

I dreamed of the little cabin in the mountains but, in the weird way of dreamland, it now had three bedrooms, a hot tub and a backyard pool. I woke with a start and wondered at the strangeness of the human psyche.

The sun was well above the top of Sandia Crest when I walked out to the driveway and got into my borrowed Corvette. I really did need to get serious about vehicle shopping so I wouldn’t be responsible for this expensive toy much longer. I’d started the engine when I looked up to see Elsa coming across my lawn. I shut down again and stood beside the car.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you how things are going?” she said in greeting.

My brain zipped backward through recent thoughts—new car, mountain cabin … but I knew she meant the Delaney twins.

“I still don’t know anything for certain, but we’re getting closer.” I didn’t think it was a great idea to admit I’d taken Zayne’s phone and had a professional hacking job done on it. “The girls seem to be in touch with each other and with their parents, so I’m sure everything’s okay.”

There was no point in going into the details of everything I’d learned. I thought I could trust Elsa’s discretion, but what if she blurted out something when she got together with her card ladies? Better to be vague at this point.

I gave her a hug and got back into the car. Traffic was picking up by the time I reached the office. I was the first to arrive so I started the coffee maker and switched on lights as I walked through the rooms. I checked voicemail where a call from an insurance adjuster waited for me.

She told me the dollar amount they were paying for my totaled Jeep and asked me to come by their office to sign a release and collect my check. I blew out a breath. It wasn’t nearly enough to buy a new one.

Ron came in the kitchen door just then, interrupting my moody reflections. I joined him at the coffee machine.

“How’s things?” he asked in such a chipper voice I knew it probably meant he and Victoria had great early-morning sex.

I filled him in on what I’d learned from Buddy Blue. “Clover Delaney is obviously a part of whatever her sister is hiding. Maybe if I spend a little more time with her I can get her to open up and tell me about it.”

He dumped two heaping spoonsful of sugar into his coffee and gave it a stir.

“What about your case? Any word on Bobby Lorrento’s ring?”

“I called the detective in El Paso late yesterday. He didn’t have much for me. Said he would call if there was progress.”

I suppressed a wave of impatience. Two cases. Vague clues but no answers. Last night’s conversation with Drake about the cabin had turned my thoughts toward our plans and future, and that’s where I wanted to go right now, not traipsing about in circles that involved the problems of spoiled rich people. I carried my coffee and the message sheet where I’d written the insurance lady’s name to my office.

Ron’s head appeared at my doorway. “Meant to tell you—Vic says she has to cancel tonight. We’ve unexpectedly got the boys for a couple days.”

I’d nearly forgotten our impromptu plan to go to Radz nightclub. Oh well. I most likely wouldn’t have learned anything new about the Delaney girls, anyway.

“That’s fine,” I said. “I wasn’t much up for it any more.”

Back to the insurance lady. I phoned her and we made an appointment in an hour’s time. She said I would need to bring the title to my Jeep, which meant a dash back home to get the document from the safe.

I turned into the neighborhood right behind the blue Corvette and followed Clover to our street. As I began to pull into my driveway, I noticed her movements became erratic so I parked the red ’Vette and walked over. Her car sat at a skewed angle in their driveway and Clover was leaning out the open door as if she couldn’t work up the energy to stand up.

I rushed up to her side. “Clover, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at me with bleary eyes.

“Sweetie, it’s nine in the morning. Are you drunk?”

“Prob’ly.”

I extended a hand to help her out of the low car seat.

“Come on, let’s get you inside so you can sleep it off.”

“I slept already,” she insisted. “Think I passed out at the party. Missy went off with some guy from a frat house.”

It was so hard not to deliver a lecture, but she wasn’t my kid. I took her hand and she got to her feet. She fumbled for her keys, which she’d forgotten to take out of the ignition. When she stood up and faced me, I was shocked at how ravaged her face was. She looked ten years older than the last time I’d seen her.

“Clover …”

“I know. I—I hate my life.” Her eyes welled up and tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I know, hon. Life is hard at this age.” I hated my patronizing tone.

We stumbled toward the front door. I thought of my appointment across town, but I couldn’t leave her alone in this state of mind. Who knew what she would do? I took her key and unlocked the door. She tripped over a shoe that had been left in the middle of the living room and flopped onto the big sectional sofa. In thirty seconds she was snoring softly.

Great. Now what?

I took my phone from my purse and called the insurance lady, explaining I’d run into a little snag, and moved our appointment ahead another hour. I eased a small pillow under Clover’s head and draped a knitted throw over her. She didn’t move a muscle in the thirty minutes I watched her, and I found myself getting antsy to complete my meeting at the insurance company.

Wondering whether Clover would even remember I’d been here, I wrote a note suggesting we have lunch if she was up to it. I propped the note on the coffee table so it would be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, locked her front door securely and headed back on my mission.