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that Stephen Sondheim song about ladies who lunch came to mind.  She

had that great dewy skin I always envy, beautiful dark hair and eyes,

and had probably even had some work done, but she looked seriously

uptight.

Before we'd even completed the introductions, the maid was back with a

tray of coffee and tea.  "Thanks, Rosie.  You heading out to yoga?"

Rosie nodded.

"Go ahead and take my car.  I'm not going anywhere."  When Rosie left,

Susan explained.  "I've turned her on to yoga for some back spasms

she's been having, but her sunroofs leaking, and the shop can't fix it

until next week.  Poor thing showed up this morning soaking wet.  "

Maybe I had judged Susan Kerr prematurely.

"Sorry about all this banging," she said, gesturing in the air the way

people do when they try to point to a sound.  She pulled a clip from

her hair and shook her head slightly.  Loose brown waves tumbled past

her shoulders.  "I've got this creepy basement fit for Freddy Krueger,

and I finally broke down to have it refinished.  Anyway, I'm sorry I

wasn't at Clarissa's last night.  I was at a fund-raiser for the museum

and didn't get Tara s message until nearly midnight.  She told me to

call her, but I can't believe she didn't tell me why.  When I woke up

this morning, Clarissa's disappearance was all over the news.  Of

course, I called Tara at once to find out who I could talk to.  She's

the one who gave me your number, Detective Johnson."

"Tara and Townsend tell us you're probably Clarissa's closest friend,"

Johnson said.  His gentle comment called for a response but didn't

steer the conversation in a particular direction.

"Better than friends, detective."  Kerr leaned forward and touched

Johnson's forearm as she spoke, a gesture that was somehow more

reassuring than flirtatious.  She must have sensed that Ray had arrived

at her home with some preconceived notions.  "With my parents gone,

I've known Clarissa longer than anyone else in my entire life.  She's

the closest thing to a sister I've got.  We've been through it all

together."

We stayed silent during her pause.  For Johnson and Walker,

the silence was probably part of the strategy.  I was quiet because I

couldn't help but think of Grace and how lost I'd be if anything ever

happened to her.

"I want to believe that there's an explanation," Susan said, "but I

keep coming back to what I know is true.  This is totally unlike

Clarissa.  She's so ... responsible.  Predictable.  She'd never go off

like this without telling someone: Tara, Townsend, me, her parents.

She's surrounded by people who are close to her.  She'd never let us

worry this way.  Something terrible must have happened."

This time, the silence that followed wasn't enough to prod Susan into

speaking, so Johnson gave a gentle nudge.  "Everything we've learned

about the case so far leads us to think that we're investigating a

crime here, not just a missing person.  Part of what we're doing now is

putting together a timeline for the last few days.  Maybe you can start

by telling us about the last time you talked to Clarissa."

"Sure.  It was just Saturday.  Townsend was working at the hospital

nothing new there so Clarissa had the whole day free.  We had a late

lunch, then went to the Nordstrom anniversary sale."

"How was her mood?"  Johnson asked.

"Same old Clarissa.  Fun, talkative, sweet.  Afraid to spend money."

Susan paused and smiled.  "Sorry.  If you knew Clarissa .. . well,

you'd know what I mean.  Best sale of the year, and I had to talk her

into buying a couple of sweaters.  She's very practical."

Susan and Clarissa clearly lived in a different world from most of us.

I'd seen Clarissa's closet, after all.  I couldn't imagine what Susan's

must be packed with.

"Any financial problems that you know of?"  Johnson asked.

Susan laughed.  "Oh, God, no.  She and Townsend do fine.  It's just

Clarissa's way.  We grew up in southeast Portland, you know.  About

half a step up from the trailer parks.  Well, she was half a step up. I

was basically right in there.  She worked her way out by studying hard

and putting herself through school."

"Did you go to school together?"  I asked.

She laughed again.  "Sure through high school.  If you're asking how I

dealt with my generational income challenge, I won't waste your time by

making it sound heroic.  I was lucky enough to be the prettiest

aerobics instructor at the Multno-mah Athletic Club when my husband

Herbie decided to settle down.  We were married for ten years before he

passed away.  I've always felt a little guilty for having at least as

much as Clarissa when I can barely balance a checkbook."

I had to hand it to her.  Susan Kerr had a hell of a personality.

There's something reassuring about a person who is so comfortable about

who and what she is.

"So when exactly was she with you on Saturday?"  Walker asked.

"I picked her up at her house around one.  We had a long lunch,

probably until three, then shopped at Lloyd Center until I dropped her

off around seven."

"Can you think of anything unusual that came up?"  Walker was quicker

to move to narrow questions than I would have been.

"Like what?"  she asked.

"Anything," he said.  "Someone following her, a run-in with someone,

something she seemed worried about.  Things like that."

"Anything at all that you think possibly could be helpful," I added.

She shook her head.  "No.  We certainly didn't notice it if someone was

following us.  I mean, who would follow us?"  Susan's comment seemed to

trigger her own memory.  "Well, actually, about a month ago, she did

mention some guy in her caseload who was getting a little creepy.  She

usually writes off the stuff people say to her as nothing, but this guy

had her a bit unnerved.  I told her to call the police if she was

really worried, but I don't think she ever did.  She told me a few days

ago that she hadn't heard anything else from him; I forgot to ask her

about it on Saturday."  She was no doubt wondering whether she'd ever

have another chance.

"Her assistant at the office mentioned something similar to me, but she

couldn't give me the file.  Do you remember anything else about the

case?"  I asked.

"I don't recall whether she ever used his name.  The irony is that

Clarissa actually felt sorry for the guy, but there wasn't anything she

could do for him.  He was getting evicted from public housing under

some policy that lets them kick you out if someone visits you with

drugs?"

I could tell she wasn't sure if she had it right, so I nodded to let

her know that I was familiar with the policy.

"Anyway, it was a big mess.  Clarissa didn't think she could stop the