from the meds when she showed up. I guess she was afraid to drive.”
“In her nightgown,” I said.
“She probably didn’t realize what she was wearing.”
I supposed that was possible. “So she stormed out, yelled at you, threatened to kill herself, and you said, ‘Go ahead, do it right this time.’ ”
“That wasn’t my finest moment.” His face was flushed. “Lenore was always threatening to kill herself. She was manipulative, needy. I didn’t take her threat seriously, but I was worried about her. So I got into my car a few minutes later to give her a ride home, but I couldn’t find her.”
“How many minutes later?”
“I don’t know. Five, maybe? I didn’t check my watch. At first I thought she was lost, because the streets here curve, and they can be confusing, especially at night.”
“Lenore was struck on Laurel Canyon just north of Lookout,” I said. “How is it that you didn’t see her when you exited on Willow Glen?”
“Because I didn’t
take
Willow Glen,” Saunders said, allowing himself a small satisfied smile. “I drove up and down the streets looking for her, then took Mount Olympus to Laurel Canyon. I figured Lenore would go that route because it would take her closer to home, and it was safer.”
“And when you didn’t find her, you didn’t think that maybe she took Willow Glen?”
Saunders shook his head. “Why would she head farther north?”
“Because, as you said, it was dark, and she was confused by the streets, and her pills. Obviously, that’s where she
did
end up.”
“Obviously.” Saunders nodded. “But at the time, it didn’t occur to me that she’d take Willow Glen. At first, when I couldn’t find her, I figured she’d managed to get to Laurel Canyon before I did, so I drove south. When I didn’t see her, I assumed she’d heard my car when she was heading down Apollo and hid until I passed. Lenore was very stubborn, Molly. And she was furious with me.”
I understood stubborn and angry. I’d stormed out of the house once after a fight with Ron and refused to get into his car when he’d followed me. “How far did you drive down Laurel Canyon looking for her?”
“Past Hollywood Boulevard. When I didn’t see her, I figured she was hiding, like I said, or she’d flagged a cab. So I turned around and took Mount Olympus home.”
“And all this happened
before
the car hit her,” I said, not bothering to hide my skepticism.
“I have no idea when she was hit. Willow Glen and Mount Olympus at Laurel Canyon are over a mile apart.” Saunders stared into his coffee container. “I keep going over it in my mind. What if I’d caught up with her and persuaded her to let me take her home? What if I’d taken her threat more seriously and let her stay the night?” He looked up at me. “Even if I had, she probably would have killed herself, if not yesterday then some other time.”
“Why?”
That pained, angry look crossed his face again. He shifted restlessly on his seat and gazed up the street, as if searching for an escape. I thought that, like Connors and Betty Rowan, he would avoid answering, but he cleared his throat and I tensed in anticipation.
“I haven’t talked about this for some time.” He spoke so softly that I had to lean closer to hear him above the noise of the traffic, but I couldn’t miss the quiet despair in his voice. “Last March, almost a year and a half ago, Lenore killed our two-month-old son.”
I don’t know what I’d expected, certainly not this. My heart felt heavy with sadness, and a sort of regret at what I’d pried loose. “I’m so sorry,” I said, the words lame to my ears. Even if I hadn’t been shocked, I don’t think I would have known what other words to offer.
“She was suffering from postpartum psychosis,” he said, still not looking at me. “You hear about it more these days, and I guess the signs were there, but I didn’t see them at the time. Afterward, of course, it was so clear.”
“In her nightgown,” I said.
“She probably didn’t realize what she was wearing.”
I supposed that was possible. “So she stormed out, yelled at you, threatened to kill herself, and you said, ‘Go ahead, do it right this time.’ ”
“That wasn’t my finest moment.” His face was flushed. “Lenore was always threatening to kill herself. She was manipulative, needy. I didn’t take her threat seriously, but I was worried about her. So I got into my car a few minutes later to give her a ride home, but I couldn’t find her.”
“How many minutes later?”
“I don’t know. Five, maybe? I didn’t check my watch. At first I thought she was lost, because the streets here curve, and they can be confusing, especially at night.”
“Lenore was struck on Laurel Canyon just north of Lookout,” I said. “How is it that you didn’t see her when you exited on Willow Glen?”
“Because I didn’t
take
Willow Glen,” Saunders said, allowing himself a small satisfied smile. “I drove up and down the streets looking for her, then took Mount Olympus to Laurel Canyon. I figured Lenore would go that route because it would take her closer to home, and it was safer.”
“And when you didn’t find her, you didn’t think that maybe she took Willow Glen?”
Saunders shook his head. “Why would she head farther north?”
“Because, as you said, it was dark, and she was confused by the streets, and her pills. Obviously, that’s where she
did
end up.”
“Obviously.” Saunders nodded. “But at the time, it didn’t occur to me that she’d take Willow Glen. At first, when I couldn’t find her, I figured she’d managed to get to Laurel Canyon before I did, so I drove south. When I didn’t see her, I assumed she’d heard my car when she was heading down Apollo and hid until I passed. Lenore was very stubborn, Molly. And she was furious with me.”
I understood stubborn and angry. I’d stormed out of the house once after a fight with Ron and refused to get into his car when he’d followed me. “How far did you drive down Laurel Canyon looking for her?”
“Past Hollywood Boulevard. When I didn’t see her, I figured she was hiding, like I said, or she’d flagged a cab. So I turned around and took Mount Olympus home.”
“And all this happened
before
the car hit her,” I said, not bothering to hide my skepticism.
“I have no idea when she was hit. Willow Glen and Mount Olympus at Laurel Canyon are over a mile apart.” Saunders stared into his coffee container. “I keep going over it in my mind. What if I’d caught up with her and persuaded her to let me take her home? What if I’d taken her threat more seriously and let her stay the night?” He looked up at me. “Even if I had, she probably would have killed herself, if not yesterday then some other time.”
“Why?”
That pained, angry look crossed his face again. He shifted restlessly on his seat and gazed up the street, as if searching for an escape. I thought that, like Connors and Betty Rowan, he would avoid answering, but he cleared his throat and I tensed in anticipation.
“I haven’t talked about this for some time.” He spoke so softly that I had to lean closer to hear him above the noise of the traffic, but I couldn’t miss the quiet despair in his voice. “Last March, almost a year and a half ago, Lenore killed our two-month-old son.”
I don’t know what I’d expected, certainly not this. My heart felt heavy with sadness, and a sort of regret at what I’d pried loose. “I’m so sorry,” I said, the words lame to my ears. Even if I hadn’t been shocked, I don’t think I would have known what other words to offer.
“She was suffering from postpartum psychosis,” he said, still not looking at me. “You hear about it more these days, and I guess the signs were there, but I didn’t see them at the time. Afterward, of course, it was so clear.”
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