“I’d like to ask him some questions,” Annie said.
“What about?” Lois insisted.
“Ma’am, may I come in, please?”
“Let me see your badge.”
Annie opened her handbag and took out the leather fob to which her shield was pinned. Lois studied it, and then said, “Well, I wish you’d tell me what...”
“Who is it, honey?” a man’s voice called.
Beyond Lois, who still stood in the doorway refusing entrance, her shoulders squared now and her belly aggressively jutting, Annie could see a tall, dark-haired man coming from the rear of the apartment. Lois stepped aside only slightly, turning to him, and Annie got a good look as he approached: Thirty-ish, she guessed. Easily six feet tall. A hundred and eighty pounds if he weighed an ounce. Brown hair and blue eyes.
“This woman wants to see you,” Lois said. “She says she’s a policeman.”
The word “policeman” amused Annie, but she did not smile. She was busy watching Haines as he came into the small entrance foyer now, a pleasant smile on his face.
“Well, come in,” he said. “What’s the matter with you, Lo? Don’t you know it’s raining out there? Come in, come in,” he said, and extended his hand as his wife stepped aside. “What’s this about, officer?” he said, shaking hands with Annie. “Am I illegally parked? I thought alternate side of the street regulations didn’t apply on weekends.”
“I don’t know where you’re parked,” Annie said. “I’m not here about your car, Mr. Haines.”
The three of them were standing now in an uneasy knot in the entrance foyer, the door closed against the rain, the two little girls turning their attention from the animated cartoon to the visitor who said she was a cop. They had never seen a real-life lady cop before. She didn’t even look like a cop. She was wearing a raincoat and eyeglasses spattered from the rain outside. She was carrying a leather bag slung from her left shoulder. She was wearing low-heeled walking shoes. The little girls thought she looked like their Aunt Josie in Maine. Their Aunt Josie was a social worker.
“Well, what is it then?” Haines said, “How can we help you?”
“Is there someplace we can talk privately?” Annie asked, glancing at the children.
“Sure, let’s go in the kitchen,” Haines said. “Honey, is there any coffee left on the stove? Would you care for a cup of coffee, Miss... I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Detective Anne Rawles,” Annie said.
“Well, come on in,” Haines said.
They went into the kitchen. Annie and Haines sat at the kitchen table. As Lois started for the stove, Annie said, “Thank you, Mrs. Haines, I don’t care for any coffee.”
“Fresh brewed this morning,” Lois said.
“Thank you, no. Mr. Haines,” Annie said, “did you write to an organization called A.I.M., requesting a list of their contributors?”
“Why, yes, I did,” Haines said, looking surprised. His wife was standing near the stove, watching him.
“How’d you plan to use that list?” Annie asked.
“I was preparing a paper on the attitudes and opinions of pro-life supporters.”
“For a magazine, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a writer, Mr. Haines?”
“No, I’m a teacher.”
“Where do you teach, Mr. Haines?”
“At the Oak Ridge Middle School.”
“Here in Majesta?”
“Yes, just a mile from here.”
“Do you frequently write articles for magazines, Mr. Haines?”
“Well...” he said, and glanced at his wife, as if deciding whether he should lie or not. She was still watching him intently. “No,” he said, “not as a usual practice.”
“But you thought you might like to write this particular article...”
“Yes. I enjoy the magazine, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it. It’s called Our Right, and it’s published by a non-profit organization in...”
“So you contributed a hundred dollars to A.I.M. and asked for their mailing list, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You gave somebody a hundred dollars?” Lois said.
“Yes, darling, I told you about it.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said. “A hundred dollars?” She shook her head in amazement.
“How much did you expect to get for this article you were writing?” Annie asked.
“Oh, I don’t know what they pay,” Haines said.
“Did the magazine know you were writing this article?”
“Well, no. I planned to write it and then simply submit it.”
“Send it to them.”
“Yes.”
“Hoping they would take it.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever actually write this article, Mr. Haines?”
“Uh... no... I never got around to it. I’m very involved in extracurricular activities at the school, you see. I teach English, and I’m faculty advisor for the school newspaper, and I’m also advisor for the drama club and the debating club, so it sometimes gets a bit hectic. I’ll get around to it, though.”
“Have you yet contacted any of the people on the mailing list A.I.M. supplied?”
“No, not yet,” Haines said. “I will, though. As I say, when I find some free time...”
“What did you say this article was going to be about?” Lois asked.
“Uh... pro-life,” Haines said. “The movement. The aims and attitudes of... uh... women who... uh...”
“When did you get to be such a big pro-lifer?” Lois asked.
“Well, it’s a matter of some interest to me,” Haines said.
His wife looked at him.
“Has been for a long time,” he said, and cleared his throat.
“That’s news to me, the fuss you made about this one,” Lois said, and clutched her belly as if it were an overripe watermelon.
“Lois...”
“Totally news to me,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “You should have heard him when I told him I was pregnant again,” she said to Annie.
Annie was watching him.
“I’m sure that’s of absolutely no interest to Miss Rawles,” Haines said. “As a matter of fact, Miss Rawles — should I call you Detective Rawles?”
“Either way is fine,” Annie said.
“Well, Miss Rawles, I wonder if you can tell me why you’re here. Has my letter to A.I.M. caused some sort of problem? Surely, an innocuous request for a mailing list...”
“I still can’t get over your paying a hundred dollars for a mailing list,” Lois said.
“It was a tax-deductible contribution,” Haines said.
“To a pro-life organization?” Lois said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.” She turned to Annie and said, “You live with a man for ten years, you still don’t really know him, do you?”
“I guess not,” Annie said. “Mr. Haines, do you know whether the following names were on the mailing list you received from A.I.M.?” She opened her notebook and began reading. “Lois Carmody, Blanca Diaz, Patricia Ryan...”
“No, I don’t know any of those names.”
“I didn’t ask you if you knew them, Mr. Haines. I asked if they’re on that list you got from A.I.M.”
“I would have to check the list,” Haines said. “If I can even find it.”
“Vivienne Chabrun?” Annie said. “Angela Ferrari? Terry Cooper...”
“No, I don’t know any of those people.”
“Cecily Bainbridge, Mary Hollings, Janet Reilly?”
“No,” Haines said.
“Eileen Burke?”
He looked puzzled for an instant.
“No,” he said. “None of them.”