"But you never met him."
"I'm sure we would've, but Claire didn't stay married to him very long."
Two years, no contact.
"So she visited on Christmas while she was married."
"No," said Ernestine. "Not during the marriage. Last Christmas she was divorced already."
Milo said, "Did she explain why she got divorced?"
"She called after it happened, said she was fine, everything was friendly."
"She used that word?" said Milo." 'Friendly.' "
"Or something to that effect. She was trying to reassure me. That was Claire. Take care of everyone else."
She glanced at her husband. He said, "I know this sounds weird to you-our not meeting him. No big white wedding. But Claire always needed her freedom. She- It was-That's just the way she was. Give her her freedom and she got straight A's. She was always a good kid-a great kid. Who were we to argue? You do your best, who knows how your kids are going to turn out? She turned out great. We gave her freedom."
Focusing on me during most of the speech. I nodded.
"We asked to meet him," he said. "The husband. She said she'd bring him by, but she never did. I got the feeling it didn't work too well from the beginning."
"Why's that?"
"Because she never brought him out."
"But she never actually complained about the marriage," said Milo.
"She never said she was unhappy," said Rob Ray, "if that's what you're getting at. Why? Do you suspect him of having anything to do with it?"
"No," said Milo. "Just trying to learn what I can."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, sir. At this point, he's not a suspect. No one is, unfortunately."
"Well," said Rob Ray, "I know you'd tell us if it was different. The only mention she made of him was sometimes at the end of a conversation, she might say, 'Joe sends his regards.' She did say he was a lawyer, not a courtroom lawyer, a business lawyer. When she called he was never home. I got the feeling he was always working. She was, too. One of those modern marriages. That's probably what happened, they were too busy for each other."
Ernestine said, "She did send us a picture. Of the wedding- the chapel. So we knew what he looked like. A redhead.
I remember joking to Rob Ray about little ginger-haired grandchildren."
She started to cry again, checked it, apologized under her breath.
Rob Ray said, "You'd have to know the kind of girl she was to understand. Very independent. She always took care of herself."
"Took care of others, too," I said.
"Exactly. So you can see why she'd need to unwind. And she unwinds by going off by herself to the movies. Or reading a book. Privacy's a big thing with her, so we try to respect that. Mostly she does things by herself. Except when we go out to the movies together. She likes doing that with me- we're both crazy for the movies."
The lapse into present tense made my own eyes begin to ache.
He might've realized it, too. His shoulders lowered suddenly, as if someone had pushed down upon them, and he stared at the bedcovers.
"Any particular kind of movies?" I said.
"Anything good," he mumbled. His face stayed down. "It was something we did together. I never pushed her to do sports. Tell the truth, being large, I wasn't exactly ready to run around, myself, so I was glad she was that kind of kid, could sit still and watch a movie."
"Even when she was tiny," said Ernestine, "she could amuse herself. She was the sweetest little thing. I could leave her in her playpen, go about my housework, and no matter what was happening all around her, she'd just sit there and play with whatever you put in there."
"Creating her own world," I said.
Her smile was sudden, unsettling. "Exactly, Doctor. You put your ringer right on it. No matter what was happening all around her, she created her own world."
No matter what was happening all around her Second time she'd used the phrase within seconds. Did it imply some kind of family turmoil?
I said, "Privacy as an escape."
Rob Ray looked up. Uneasiness in his eyes. I tried to engage him. He turned away. Ernestine watched him, twisted the handkerchief.
"About the way Claire got married," she said. "Rob Ray and I had a big church wedding, and it put my father in debt for two years. I always thought one of Claire's intentions was to be considerate."
"What put a light in her eyes," said Rob Ray, "was consideration. Helping people."
"Before Mr. Stargill," said Milo, "did Claire have any other boyfriends?"
"She dated," said Ernestine. "In high school, I mean. She wasn't some social butterfly, but she went out. Local boys, nothing steady. A fellow named Gil Grady took her to the prom. He's a fire lieutenant now."
"What about later?" said Milo. "College? Graduate school?"
Silence.
"How about once she moved to L.A.?"
"I'm sure," said Ernestine, "that when she wanted to date, she had her pick. She was always very pretty."
Something-probably her most recent memory of her daughter, gray, damaged, laid out on a steel table-caused her face to collapse. She hid herself behind both hands.
Her husband said, "I can't see where this is leading us anywhere."
Milo looked at me.
"Just one more thing, please," I said. "Did Claire ever get involved in arts and crafts? Painting, woodwork, that kind of thing?"
"Crafts?" said Rob Ray. "She drew, like any other kid, but that's about it."
"Mostly she liked to read and go to the movies," said Ernestine. "No matter what was happening all around her, she could always find some quiet time for herself."
Rob Ray said, "Excuse me." Lifting himself laboriously, he began the trudge to the bathroom. The three of us waited until the door closed. Running water sounded through the wood.
Ernestine began speaking softly, frantically: "This is so hard on him. When Claire was growing up, children made fun of him. Cruel children. It's glandular; sometimes he eats less than I do."
She stopped, as if daring us to debate. "He's a wonderful man. Claire was never ashamed, never treated him any way but respectful. Claire was always proud of her family, no matter what-"
The last word ended too abruptly. I waited for more. Her lips folded inward. As she bit down on them, her chin shuddered. "He's all I've got now. I'm worried about what this will do to him-"
Another toilet flush. Several moments later, the door opened and Rob Ray's big head appeared. Repeat of the laborious exit, the huffing trek to the bed. When he finally settled, he said, "I don't want you to think Claire was some strange kid, all locked up in her room. She was a tough kid, took care of herself, wouldn't fall in with anything bad for her. So this had to be an abduction, some kind of maniac."
Talking louder, more forcefully, as if he'd refueled.
"Claire was no fool," he went on. "Claire knew how to take care of herself-had to know."
"Because she lived alone?" I said.
"Because-Yes, exactly. My little girl was independent."
Later, sitting in a coffee shop on La Tijera with Milo, I said, "So much pain."
"Oh, man," he said. "They seem like good people, but talk about delusions. Making like it's one happy family, yet Claire never bothers to bring the husband around, never calls. She cut them off, Alex. Why?"
"Something the mother said made me wonder about family chaos. She used the phrase 'no matter what was happening all around her' three times. Emphasizing that Claire coped well. Maybe there was turmoil. But they're sure not going to tell you now. Pretty memories are all they've got. And why would it matter?"
He smiled. "All of a sudden the past isn't relevant?"
"It's always relevant to someone's life," I said. "But it may not have had a thing to do with Claire's death. At least, I don't see it."
"A maniac, like the old man said."
"He and his wife might be holding back family secrets, but I don't think they'd obstruct you," I said. "Claire's been out here for years. I think L.A.'s more relevant than Pittsburgh or Cleveland."
He gazed past me, toward the cash register, waved for service. Other than two red-eyed truckers at separate booths, we were the only customers.