“Those were Agnes’s favorite slippers. Why didn’t Lenora let her take those along?”
Why not indeed?
The flowered bedspread was eerily familiar. It was the same pattern that had been on my grandparents’ bed when I first reestablished a connection with them after a lifelong estrangement. Next to the bed on a dusty table was an arrangement of four small gold-framed photographs. I picked them up and examined them one by one. The first was a wedding photo. The World War II–vintage hairdos and clothing told me that Agnes and Peter were the smiling bride and groom. Next came what I recognized as a senior-class portrait of a much younger version of Lenora, followed by another of a boy who was presumably Lenora’s younger brother, Arthur. The last one, and the only one in faded color, showed a gangly, grinning boy wearing a Little League uniform along with a catcher’s mitt.
“That one’s Petey,” Hilda informed me. She was standing beside me as I scanned through the photos. “That was just before he got off on the wrong track—after he stopped playing baseball.”
“May I take this?” I asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Hilda said with a shrug.
I slipped the framed photo into my pocket. On the chest of drawers where I had hoped to find a hairbrush or comb, there was nothing but a crocheted doily and an old-fashioned jewelry box complete with a windup ballerina on top.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.
Hilda gave a sigh. “This way,” she said.
The bathroom was tiny and dated. I had a feeling there was asbestos in the antiquated tile on the floor. The basin, cracked and rusty, was of the two-faucet variety that went out of fashion years ago. The claw-footed bathtub, like the single-pane windows, had obviously been part of the original design. There was no shower. A drinking glass containing a lone toothbrush sat on one corner of the basin. As far as I was concerned, that toothbrush meant pay dirt. There was a medicine chest set in the wall over the basin. The mirror on that was mottled and desilvering around the edges, but when I opened the door, I found exactly what I wanted—a hairbrush and comb. Unfortunately, that’s also when I realized that although I had come in search of evidence, I hadn’t been fully prepared to find it.
“Crap!” I exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” Hilda wanted to know.
“These are what I need—the toothbrush and the brush and comb—but I didn’t think to bring along any evidence bags.”
“I’ll get you one,” Hilda told me. “I know where Agnes kept her Ziploc bags.” She hobbled off and returned a few moments later carrying two gallon-size plastic bags. I put the toothbrush in one and the comb and brush in the other.
“Thanks,” I told her. “That’s perfect.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“Not really,” I said. “This is great.”
“Well, there’s something I need,” she huffed under her breath. She banged her way out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. When she emerged, she was carrying the wedding picture, which she slipped into her apron pocket right next to the revolver.
“Other than Petey, nobody else is going to want this picture, and if he shows up, I’ll give it to him,” she said. “But Peter and Agnes were good friends of ours. This will give me something to remember them by.”
I nodded. “I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t want you to have it.”
I was starting to worry about timing. If I didn’t head home soon, I was going to miss my crib-assembling date with Scotty.
“We should probably go,” I said, but Hilda seemed reluctant to leave. She stood still, surveying the room as though looking at it for one last time and saying her good-byes.
“Is anything missing?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Hilda wanted to know.
“Does it look as though Lenora has gone through the place and taken anything?”
“I doubt it.” Hilda said with a shrug. “Why would she? Agnes’s stuff never would have been good enough for her snot-nosed daughter.”
With that, Hilda and I turned and left that sad little house, closing and double-locking the door behind us. For me it felt like slamming the door on someone’s life and throwing away the key. I didn’t ask Hilda, but I’m pretty sure she must have felt the same.
I had planned on dropping Lucy off before going to Scotty’s place, but in the interest of saving time she came along to Ballard with me. When Scotty and Cherisse bought their house, it had come with a room