she saw the children and realized they needed help. They recommended counseling. Can you believe that? Starving, battered, and they recommended counseling.” Liliane shook her head. “The abuse was even worse than Dania imagined. Amos always said it was a blessing that she died before she found out.”
“What did Amos do?” I asked.
“Told Edna first. She was a good woman, Mrs. Hollowell. Then he got Youth Services out there before the day was over. You probably know the rest.”
“What was the daughter’s name?”
“Elizabeth. Amos had her hospitalized in a rehab center. Soon as she got out, she died of a drug overdose.”
I fished in my pocket for a Kleenex. Damn. “Amos had two daughters named Elizabeth, then.”
“Yes. Betty’s name is Elizabeth.”
I wiped my eyes. “Does Claire know? That she’s Amos Bedsole’s granddaughter?”
“She knows.”
“And her sisters? The twins?”
Liliane smiled, the first happy look I had seen on her face. “Glynn and Lynn took off the day they graduated from high school. They’re models in New York. You see them sometimes doing those twin commercials. They had counseling, of course, just like Claire did, but the doctors think that having each other protected them some from their environment. Their emotional environment, anyway. They were very malnourished.”
“And you took them in for Amos.”
“I took them in for me, Mrs. Hollowell, and now I need to find Claire. Mercy’s death is just one more sorrow in her young lifetime.”
“She said she was a widow.”
Liliane nodded. “A terrible highway tragedy. She was devastated by his death.”
Haley, I thought. Haley, you know.
The rain against the skylight suddenly began to make a clicking sound. We both looked up. “Sleet,” I said.
“Oh, Lord, let me get home while I still can.” Liliane Bedsole pushed herself up. Her black turtleneck sweater showed the curve of osteoporosis.
“If I hear anything I’ll let you know,” I said, helping her on with her raincoat.
“Claire must think a lot of you to come to you for help.”
“I think I was just on her mind.”
“I just wonder why she didn’t come to me,” Liliane said, pulling the hood over her orange hair.
I wondered the same thing, but didn’t voice it. “Be careful,” I said. “Go straight home.”
Liliane took the umbrella. “I’ve lived here all my life. I know how to handle ice.”
I looked at the red coat and the smooth face. This was one feisty little lady. “Be careful, anyway,” I said.
I closed the door and went to the kitchen to finish the cookies and to think about all Liliane had told me. She was right about skeletons in the closet. Our social mores had certainly changed. I thought about the two daughters named Elizabeth, one the abused drug addict, the other a Miss America living in Hollywood with a movie mogul. Two sisters named Elizabeth and both of them might just have lost their daughters.
I stuck another batch of cookies into the oven and called Fred to tell him to bring home Chinese. Then I lit the fire and picked up my Hillerman book. I needed it. The Navajo Nation had never looked more inviting.
Seven
T he sleet had turned back into rain by the time Fred got home. We ate our almond chicken and sweet-and-sour shrimp on cushions in front of the fire while I told him about Liliane’s visit.
“And she thought the girl might try and get in touch with you?”
“Yes.”
“How could anybody just walk out of a hospital like that?”
“Easily,” I said, thinking of Nurse Connie. “The problem is Claire didn’t have any clothes or money. How could she have gone anywhere?”
Fred got up and brought us both a cup of coffee. “What’s Liliane Bedsole like?”
“Nice. Frail. Very worried.”
“Sounds like she has good reason.” He handed me a spoon and a package of Sweet’n Low. “Did Claire and her sisters inherit some of old Amos Bedsole’s money? There was plenty of it.”
“I suppose so.
“What did Amos do?” I asked.
“Told Edna first. She was a good woman, Mrs. Hollowell. Then he got Youth Services out there before the day was over. You probably know the rest.”
“What was the daughter’s name?”
“Elizabeth. Amos had her hospitalized in a rehab center. Soon as she got out, she died of a drug overdose.”
I fished in my pocket for a Kleenex. Damn. “Amos had two daughters named Elizabeth, then.”
“Yes. Betty’s name is Elizabeth.”
I wiped my eyes. “Does Claire know? That she’s Amos Bedsole’s granddaughter?”
“She knows.”
“And her sisters? The twins?”
Liliane smiled, the first happy look I had seen on her face. “Glynn and Lynn took off the day they graduated from high school. They’re models in New York. You see them sometimes doing those twin commercials. They had counseling, of course, just like Claire did, but the doctors think that having each other protected them some from their environment. Their emotional environment, anyway. They were very malnourished.”
“And you took them in for Amos.”
“I took them in for me, Mrs. Hollowell, and now I need to find Claire. Mercy’s death is just one more sorrow in her young lifetime.”
“She said she was a widow.”
Liliane nodded. “A terrible highway tragedy. She was devastated by his death.”
Haley, I thought. Haley, you know.
The rain against the skylight suddenly began to make a clicking sound. We both looked up. “Sleet,” I said.
“Oh, Lord, let me get home while I still can.” Liliane Bedsole pushed herself up. Her black turtleneck sweater showed the curve of osteoporosis.
“If I hear anything I’ll let you know,” I said, helping her on with her raincoat.
“Claire must think a lot of you to come to you for help.”
“I think I was just on her mind.”
“I just wonder why she didn’t come to me,” Liliane said, pulling the hood over her orange hair.
I wondered the same thing, but didn’t voice it. “Be careful,” I said. “Go straight home.”
Liliane took the umbrella. “I’ve lived here all my life. I know how to handle ice.”
I looked at the red coat and the smooth face. This was one feisty little lady. “Be careful, anyway,” I said.
I closed the door and went to the kitchen to finish the cookies and to think about all Liliane had told me. She was right about skeletons in the closet. Our social mores had certainly changed. I thought about the two daughters named Elizabeth, one the abused drug addict, the other a Miss America living in Hollywood with a movie mogul. Two sisters named Elizabeth and both of them might just have lost their daughters.
I stuck another batch of cookies into the oven and called Fred to tell him to bring home Chinese. Then I lit the fire and picked up my Hillerman book. I needed it. The Navajo Nation had never looked more inviting.
Seven
T he sleet had turned back into rain by the time Fred got home. We ate our almond chicken and sweet-and-sour shrimp on cushions in front of the fire while I told him about Liliane’s visit.
“And she thought the girl might try and get in touch with you?”
“Yes.”
“How could anybody just walk out of a hospital like that?”
“Easily,” I said, thinking of Nurse Connie. “The problem is Claire didn’t have any clothes or money. How could she have gone anywhere?”
Fred got up and brought us both a cup of coffee. “What’s Liliane Bedsole like?”
“Nice. Frail. Very worried.”
“Sounds like she has good reason.” He handed me a spoon and a package of Sweet’n Low. “Did Claire and her sisters inherit some of old Amos Bedsole’s money? There was plenty of it.”
“I suppose so.
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