"What did you find out?" Nudger asked.
"That Claudia Bettencourt-or Ferris, as she called herself then-was an intelligent, disturbed woman who was not innately violent. Her past wouldn't let go of here. Her younger sister had also been abused, and was a diagnosed schizophrenic who killed herself in a period of depression. Claudia was haunted by her childhood and doomed to emulate it through her daughters. Unfortunately, it's not an unusual situation, Mr. Nudger. I recommended leniency and therapy. The judge agreed. Claudia stayed out of prison. She was placed on probation and saw a court-appointed psychiatrist for several years."
"Did the psychiatrist help her?"
"Dr. Oliver helped her only to an extent. She understands her past now, and she's no longer compulsively violent. Toward anyone. She loves her children, as she always did."
"But she doesn't love Claudia."
Laura Cather smiled her frail and gentle smile at Nudger and nodded, pleased that he understood. "Claudia can't shake the guilt," she said, "because Ralph Ferris won't let her. He's the one who needs mental therapy now, but the law doesn't demand it."
"And Claudia can't forget Ralph Ferris because he's got custody of their daughters. He's a part of her life whether she likes it or not."
"Exactly. And he sees to it that she doesn't like it. He's never forgiven her, or acts that way. If he's so sure she deliberately left that window open to punish their daughter for some minor childhood transgression, maybe you can't blame him."
"I can blame him," Nudger said. "He's perpetuating pain."
"I've told Claudia to limit her involvement with him, send someone to get the children when she has visitation rights. Her psychiatrist told her the same thing when she was seeing him. Ralph won't cooperate. He demands to deliver the children to her door himself. He occasionally comes to see her alone, or taunts her over the phone. There's no way to stop him. No way, Mr. Nudger. No way even to know if he's still a grief-sick father or simply a mean and vengeful bastard. But I know which way I'd bet."
Nudger sighed. The world was a swamp, and understanding was quicksand. And sometimes the log you were standing on turned and gave you a crocodile smile.
"Two years ago Claudia tried to commit suicide by slashing her wrists," Laura Cather said. "Coreen Davis found her, slowed the bleeding, and got her medical aid in time to save her. It wasn't one of those Russian-roulette suicide attempts where the victim gambles on help arriving before death. Claudia's was a genuine attempt to die."
"And you're afraid she might try again."
"It's possible, maybe even likely. Coreen and I wanted you to find out about this the right way. We want you to know that Claudia is on a dark edge, Mr. Nudger. We want to make sure you understand that." She frowned, staring into interior distances, as she sought words to make him grasp her compassion and meaning. "She's fragile. So fragile. We want you to be careful with her."
Nudger sat looking at Laura Cather. He'd developed a sense about people like this, gentle people who couldn't dissemble or deceive. He knew them. They were easy to read; they wanted to be read, to live in a world without deception.
"There's more, isn't there?" he said.
She knew herself, too. She'd been expecting him to ask, maybe hoping for it. "I don't think Claudia left that window open, Mr. Nudger. I think Ralph went to the sick daughter's room that night. Maybe Vicki was feverish, complained of being too hot and wanted Ralph to open the window for just a few minutes. The child had vomited; maybe Ralph opened the window to let out the stench of sickness and forgot and left it open.
"Child abuse brings out the vigilante in juries, Mr. Nudger. Claudia didn't have a chance. But I read the court transcript with an objective eye, and I got to know everyone involved in the case. Ralph left that window open, Mr. Nudger. He knew it and denied it and let Claudia be convicted so he could get the children in the divorce. It eats on the bastard and he can't let Claudia alone. Maybe he hates her because she put him into that situation. Or maybe he's got himself talked into thinking she's actually guilty as charged. But Ralph left that window open, Mr. Nudger. I'm sure of it."
She sat fondling her silver brooch. There was nothing more to say. Maybe she'd said too much. Nudger stood up and moved to the door, turned.
"Thanks for telling me about this," he said.
She walked over and shook his hand, squeezing hard.
"I promise to be careful with Claudia," he told her.
She watched him walk down the stairs, into the street.
As he drove away he saw that she had come down onto the porch and was standing hunched forward with her thin arms crossed, wondering if she'd done the right thing by talking to him.
XIX
Nudger bounced along Grand Avenue in the Volkswagen, wondering how he really felt about what Laura Cather had told him. How would he feel about it tomorrow? He was shaken and befuddled, devoid of answers and afraid of what they might be when they took form. He couldn't imagine Claudia harming anyone, becoming uncontrollably angry, yet he had been told that she'd been caught in a pattern of pain and violence. Trapped by her past, and now trapped again because of Ralph Ferris. Claudia had been painted as victim rather than perpetrator by two people who knew her well and long. They had wanted to tell him about her to judge his reaction, to protect her. Nudger wasn't sure himself of his reaction.
When he saw a phone booth on the corner of a service station lot, he pulled in and parked next to it. Holding one ear with a cupped hand to block the sounds of traffic, he stood in the booth and listened to Jeanette's phone ring.
No answer. Maybe she was working again today for the temporary-help firm that sent her out on part-time secretarial jobs, and so hadn't made any nightline appointments. Nudger thought that would be all right. They might not make any progress on the case, but then they weren't exactly leaping from clue to clue anyway. And Jeanette would stay out of trouble for a while and be able to afford his fee.
He hung up the phone, got back into the car, and drove on toward his office. There he would check his mail, then phone Natalie Mallowan on the pretense of inquiring about Ringo's well-being and apply gentle persuasion in an attempt to hurry payment of his nine hundred dollars. It was lunchtime, but he wasn't hungry and wouldn't stop anywhere. There was no point in eating anyway until he'd checked the mail for McDonald's coupons.
As he parked near his office he forgot all about lunch and looking at the mail and phoning Natalie Mallowan. A Third District patrol car was parked at the curb in front of Danny's Donuts. As Nudger crossed Manchester, Danny appeared at the doughnut-shop window and motioned with a nod of his long head toward the car, indicating that it was there because of Nudger.
Nudger walked past the car, waiting for the voice he knew would come.
"You Nudger?"
He turned. There were two blue uniforms in the car. The one on the curbside had the door open and was leaning out, waiting for Nudger's answer. He had a deadpan face with eyes as full of expression as shirt buttons.
It suddenly occurred to Nudger why the uniforms might be there. Claudia! In that instant he knew exactly how he felt about her. It was the way he had felt before his conversation with Laura Cather.
"I'm Nudger," he said, walking toward the car. "What's this about?"
"Lieutenant Hammersmith sent us to pick you up and drive you to where he is. Wants you to get there before they remove a body." He climbed out of the car, a big man with the back of his blue shirt dark with perspiration. He held open the car's rear door for Nudger.
"Where is he, goddammit?" Nudger demanded.
The uniform looked surprised, but only for a moment. "Over on Utah at a murder scene," he said. "Woman got herself killed. The lieutenant thought you'd be interested."