with another generation of less-than-fit parents. I was hearing the sound of history repeating itself—of people making the same kinds of bad decisions and passing them down as a legacy from one generation to the next—from Arthur to Petey and now from Petey to Athena. Although I had to admit, when it came to making bad multigenerational decisions, I didn’t have a hell of a lot of room to talk.
“What can you tell me about Petey?” I wondered. “How old is he?”
“Don’t know exactly. Late twenties, I suppose, or maybe early thirties. He started acting out after his father died. Got into trouble his sophomore year of high school and ended up getting expelled. I don’t think he ever even got a GED. He ended up in juvie first and then did a couple of stints in the King County Jail when he was older. Once he got into drugs, he was a lost cause. Whenever he got desperate enough or broke enough, he’d come home to Agnes. After she caught him stealing from her, she no longer let him stay at the house, but she did allow him to hang out in the house that had once belonged to Pete’s brother—to Arthur’s Uncle Warren. She let him bunk in there whenever he needed to, but he’s been gone for a while now, too,” Hilda added after a pause.
“Since last fall?” I asked.
She nodded. “Just before it started getting cold and wet. It wasn’t all that unusual for him to be gone for months at a time before he’d turn back up again. The last time I caught sight of him wasn’t very long before the power got shut off.”
“The power to the place where Naomi and Petey were living?” I asked.
Hilda nodded again. “I’m guessing that once Lenora took charge of Agnes’s affairs, she turned off the utilities.”
“Did Lenora know that Naomi and Petey were staying in one of the houses?”
“I couldn’t say,” Hilda answered. “Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t.”
“So Petey took off, leaving Naomi alone with no heat or water?”
“I guess,” Hilda replied. “I never saw anyone else over there with her.”
“Did you ever talk to her?”
“I tried, but you know how people like that are—suspicious of everyone, skittish. I saw her sitting out on the porch from time to time—smoking. Once I went over to have a word with her, just to be polite, but she got up, turned her back on me, and went inside the house. Not very neighborly, if you ask me, and you’d think she’d know better than to smoke when she’s expecting, but that’s the way kids are these days.”
It turned out that smoking cigarettes while pregnant was the least of Naomi’s transgressions. Naomi Dale and Petey Mayfield were both way too old to qualify as kids. So much for that lame excuse!
“What about Agnes?” I asked. “Did she have any kind of relationship with Naomi?”
“Not so’s you’d notice,” Hilda told me. “By last spring Agnes was starting to have memory lapses. Even if the two of them were best of friends, Agnes might not have remembered from one day to the next. We neighbors all took turns looking in on her and making sure she was all right. Then one day Lenora came riding in on her high horse—or should I say broom? She picked up her mother and carted her off without ever bothering to tell any of Agnes’s friends that they were leaving or where she was going.”
Yes, Lenora No Last Name really was a piece of work.
I glanced at my watch. Lucy was still locked up in the car, and it was far later than I expected. Even if we left right now, rush hour would be in full swing by the time we made it to the West Seattle Bridge.
“Thank you for all your help, Mrs. Tanner,” I said, shutting off the recording app on the phone. “I should go. I’ve taken up too much of your time.”
“But what about the girl?” Hilda asked. “You told me earlier that Naomi was missing. Are you going to be able to find her?”
“I hope so, but I don’t know. These days there are lots of people in Seattle living out of grocery carts covered with blue tarps.”
“Where did she come from originally?” Hilda asked.
“Texas, I believe.”
“Well, I hope she’s all right,” Hilda added, “and the baby, too. She must have had it by now. Will you let me know if you find out anything? That baby would be