“Or so you say, ma’am. No offense, but he was your husband, after all.”
“You seem like an astute young man,” Audrey said, her voice chilling a bit. “Your brother showed me a picture of your mother. She was lovely. If you were Walter, would you have chosen to run off with her? Or come home to this?” she said, indicating herself and the chair with a flutter of her hand.
“But he... didn’t run off with my mother.”
“Well, perhaps we made the same mistake, she and I. We were apparently both pregnant when he left us, and I can tell you from my experience that Walter, like most men, had no patience with pregnancy. Perhaps he replaced your mother as she replaced me. Who can say? And I’m afraid that’s really all I can tell you, Mr. Calderon. Your brother left here late in the afternoon. It was raining hard, he was a bit upset, and we’d... well, we’d had several brandies together, drowning our sorrows. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let him go. But I was more than a little upset myself. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, ma’am,” Calderon said. “For all of it. Thanks for... well, for telling me.”
“That’s quite all right,” Mrs. McClain said, “but if you don’t mind, I’m a bit tired now.”
“Of course,” Charlie said, rising. “We’ll see ourselves out.” He strode quickly to her chair, bent down, and gave her a peck on the forehead. “If you think of anything else that might help, anything at all, please give me a call.”
She nodded. “I will, dear. You take care. Miss?” she said suddenly, turning to me. “You’re Shannon Mitchell’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, surprised that she knew.
“I wonder... could you stay a minute? I’d like to talk to you. Please.”
“I don’t know,” I said, glancing at Charlie for advice, but his square, freckled face was professionally neutral, unreadable. As usual.
“I’ll see that she gets home, Charles, you go ahead,” she said, waving him off. A woman used to being obeyed. Charlie nodded and walked out, pointedly motioning Calderon ahead of him. Ross the surfer came in a moment later, carrying a whiskey sour on a small silver tray.
“Thank you, dear,” she said, taking the glass, sipping the liquor greedily. “Now, would you please bring one of the cars around and wait out front? Miss Mitchell will need a lift into town shortly.”
Ross glanced at me a moment, then nodded and stalked off, closing the door after him.
“I knew your father,” she said, swiveling her chair to face me, cocking her head with that kittenish tilt to look me over. “You favor him a bit, tall and dark. Much prettier, of course, though he was no slouch in that department. Before my accident I used to sail a lot. I bought equipment from him and he gave me a few pointers. Though not the sort of pointers he gave a good many local girls. A pity.”
Surprise must have shown in my face.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. At my age, I only regret the fun things I missed doing. Like your father. I understand you inherited his business. Are you with the sheriff’s department too?”
“No, I just dive for them occasionally.”
“Good, then there’ll be no conflict of interest if I hire you to do a small job for me.”
“What kind of a job?”
“Let’s call it babysitting, of a sort. Mr. Calderon is upset and he’ll be making inquiries. As an outsider, he’s liable to blunder around upsetting people. Frankly, I’d like to minimize any fuss, for my son’s sake. I sympathize with Mr. Calderon, of course, but I have my own family to think of. So I’d like you to help him with his inquiries, but try to see that he’s as... discreet as possible. You understand, I’m sure.”
“I think so,” I said. “You want to pay me to keep Calderon discreet. And I take it I’m supposed to be discreet too?”
She hesitated, trying to read my face.
“Actually,” I said, “I think I can save you some money, Mrs. McClain. I’ll help Calderon if he needs it because, as you said, none of this is his fault. And I won’t carry tales about what was said here because it’s no one else’s business, including mine. What’s more, it won’t cost you a dime.”
“My, my,” she said slowly, with a mischievous grin. “I believe I’ve pushed one of your hot buttons, as the kids say. I meant no offense, Miss Mitchell.”
“None taken,” I said. “Was there anything else?”
“Yes. Please come and see me again, just to talk. The only visitors I get nowadays are old friends, and I mean old friends, or people with their hands out. I could use a new friend.”
“Can’t we all,” I said.
“She’s at least half crazy, you know,” Ross said. We were in a Lincoln Town Car, gliding sedately along the lakeshore drive. I looked him over as he spoke. Up close, I revised my first impression of him. He was older than I thought, late fortyish, maybe more. His dark hair had the faint plum highlights of a rinse, and the skin around his eyes was a tad too taut across his cheekbones. Cosmetic surgery? He’d be the type, I suppose.
It must be grim to be in the paid-companion business and start noticing crow’s-feet and gray hairs. Heck, it’s pretty grim even if you’re not.
“She was sharp tonight, on top of things,” he continued, keeping his eyes on the road. “But on her bad days she can be a handful. Did she try to hire you for something or other?”
I glanced at him without answering.
“I’m just trying to do my job, lady,” he said, giving me a flash of too-perfect teeth in a practiced, professional grin. “Sometimes it includes being nosy.”
“And what is your job, exactly?”
“Rent-a-pal,” he said frankly. “I help her in and out of her chair, cook for her, try to keep her out of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“All kinds. On her bad days she orders things over the phone, from mink coats to phony gold stocks, and then forgets about it. She gets agitated and wants to drive and I have to jolly her out of it before she kills somebody.”
“She can drive?”
“Sure. She’s got a little modified van minus a driver’s seat so she can control it from her chair. She handles it all right, when she’s herself. But on her bad days...”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Just trying to avoid problems. She gets upset when she forgets things and I hate to see her like that. I think this Calderon business upset her more than she let on. It’d be better if he didn’t come around again. A lot better.”
“Better for whom?” I asked.
“For Audrey. I really do like her, you know. She can be a real trip to be around. But if she’s hired you for anything, you’d better clear it with Wally or me if you expect to get paid. Next time you see her, she may not remember who you are. Or even who she is.”
“I see,” I said, considering it.
“So, did she offer you some kind of a job?” he asked.
“Is Ross your first name or your last?” I asked.
He glanced at me a moment, reading my eyes. “It’s Ross,” he said, with a vacant smile. “Just Ross.”
Charlie Bauer’s county Blazer was parked in The Crow’s Nest lot when Ross dropped me off. Charlie and Ray Calderon were alone at a corner table. Charlie, bear-sized in his brown uniform jacket, was stolidly munching one of our cheeseburger deluxes, a two-fisted dinner even with paws the size of Charlie’s. Calderon was sipping a straight whiskey, not his first, judging from the flush of his jaw. Maybe serious drinking ran in the family.