Nemesis (18 page)

“How do you mean, ruinous?”

I watched Mrs. Lyman consider whether or not to answer. Finally, “I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but … How much do you know about her?”

“A fair amount, but it would help to know more.”

“Well … she was a dreadful woman. My husband believes she was mentally ill and I have no doubt he's right. A shrew and a compulsive liar … my God, the lies she told, the stories she made up. She was incapable of telling the truth about anything.”

“What sort of stories?”

Emotions played across Grace Lyman's face—memory shadows, I thought. Her antipathy toward Verity Daniels must have been pretty intense; it melted some of her reticence, opened her up in spite of herself.

“Ridiculous fantasies,” she said. “Conspiracies against her, conspiracies in her workplace. Men following her, trying to attack her. Obscene phone callers. Neighbors spying on her while she was naked in the shower. Most of it came from television—she watched TV incessantly when she wasn't working or playing her silly games or out buying things she and Scott didn't need and couldn't afford. Or sneaking around behind his back. She always had to be the center of attention, always had to feed her sick craving for excitement. Scott put up with it for two years before the final straw. But by then he was in debt, and except for his second marriage to Karen, a
good
marriage, nothing has gone right for him since.”

“What was the final straw?”

“I'm not sure Scott would want me to discuss that.”

“I may already know the answer,” I said. “He found out she was seeing another man.”

Nothing for five or six beats. Then, “I'm sorry, but I dislike euphemisms. Not seeing another man, she was
fucking
another man. The whole time Scott was married to her. She admitted it when he finally caught on.”

“How did he catch on?”

“He stumbled across a box Verity had hidden in her closet. Money, some expensive pieces of jewelry he hadn't given her”—Mrs. Lyman's mouth curled distastefully—“and a couple of those graphic notes illicit lovers write to each other. At first she tried to pretend she'd saved the money, bought the jewelry, and written the notes herself. But Scott kept pressing her until she lost control and screamed the truth at him. She had a really vicious temper when she was provoked.”

“Did she name the man?”

“Oh, yes. Her boss at the insurance agency where she worked.”

“Vincent Canaday,” I said, thinking: So her affair with Canaday stretched all the way back to the time of her marriage to Scott Ostrander. Five years, at least. Ongoing? On again, off again? Pretty serious relationship, in any case.

“Yes, Vincent Canaday,” Mrs. Lyman said. “Of all people, after what she once said about him.”

“How do you mean?”

“One of her fantasies. The workplace conspiracy I mentioned.”

“What sort of conspiracy?”

Just then a fat blue jay came swooping down out of one of the pines that rimmed the yard, landed on the place-set table, and sat there screeching like a banshee. Grace Lyman came out of her chair so quickly she might have been ejected, chased the bird off by yelling and flapping her arms. It flew back into the tree and kept right on screeching.

“Jays,” she said when she came back, as if it were an obscene word. “I can't stand those birds, they drive me to distraction sometimes.”

“Pretty noisy,” I agreed.

She sat down again. “What was it you asked me?”

“You were going to tell me about Verity Daniels's workplace conspiracy.”

“Oh, that. I don't remember exactly … some nonsense about defrauding one of the insurance companies the agency represented.”

“And it was Canaday who was doing the defrauding?”

“So she claimed. When she found out about it he tried to enlist her help, but she refused. She talked him into returning the money, and he gave her a raise so she'd never tell anybody what he'd done. Some silliness like that.”

“She didn't say exactly what the alleged fraud was?”

“If she did, Scott didn't tell me.”

“Or how much money was involved?”

“No. What does it matter? It was just another of her games.”

Maybe. And maybe not.

I asked, “When did she make this claim, do you recall?”

“No, I … wait, yes I do. It was around Christmas, the year before she admitted to the affair. Scott asked her where she'd gotten the money to buy something or other and she said it was from a raise in her salary. Then she told him the fraud story.”

“About the affair. How long had it been going on?”

“A long time. She didn't provide exact dates.”

Two years is a long time. So is one year. Pre-fraud or post-fraud, assuming there was any truth to the story? If there was, and the affair had begun post-fraud, it opened up the possibility that Daniels had blackmailed Canaday into it and kept him on the hook for a long time afterward. And blackmail, if the pigeon decides he's had enough, is a strong motive for murder.

I asked, “Did your brother name Canaday when he filed for divorce?”

“No. He could have … should have, given the demands she made. Alimony, for God's sake, when she was making almost as much money as Scott. If they'd owned rather than rented their home, she'd have tried to force him to sell it. As it was, he gave her a larger share of their community property just to be free of her.”

“Has your brother had any contact with her since the divorce?”

“Of course not. Why should he, after what she put him through?”

I waited a couple of seconds before I said, “I understand he was pretty upset when he found out about her inheritance.”

“Well? Wouldn't you be if you were him?”

“Probably.”

“He didn't do anything about it, if that's what you're thinking,” Grace Lyman said.

“But he is in serious need of money.”

That bought me a sharp look. “What are you suggesting? That he went to her and begged for a loan? Scott would sooner have cut off his hand. Don't you understand? She was a blight on his life, a plague to him. He'd never have had anything to do with her, not for
any
reason.”

I said mildly, “Hate is a pretty strong emotion.”

“Yes, it is. But my brother is a passive person, completely nonviolent. If he'd wanted to … hurt Verity, if he'd been capable of so much as slapping her, he'd have done it when she threw her affair in his face.”

I let that pass without comment.

“The kind of woman she was, dozens of people probably had cause to kill her. Vincent Canaday, for one. Why aren't you investigating him?”

“I am,” I said. “Hank Avery, too, among others.”

“Who?”

“Hank Avery, the brother of the man Verity Daniels was engaged to three years ago.”

“Oh, yes, the man who was drowned in the Delta.”

“You know about the incident, then.”

“Scott told me. I think he said the man's brother came to see him, that's how he found out. Verity was absolved of any wrongdoing, but the man didn't believe it. Hank Avery, yes. He knew about Verity's affair with Canaday, too. He and Scott talked about it.”

“Do you know if your brother's seen Avery since?”

“I doubt that he has. He'd have no reason to.” The jay was still shrieking; Grace Lyman glared in the bird's direction, then looked at her watch. “My God, it's twelve-thirty. You'll have to leave now. My guests will be arriving soon and I still have things to do in the kitchen.”

I didn't argue, just got to my feet and thanked her for her time and for being frank with me.

She was already regretting it; the way her changeable eyes had darkened told me that. She said, “I suppose you're going to see Scott anyway.”

“I won't tell him about our conversation, if you'd rather I didn't.”

“That doesn't matter, we have no secrets from each other. But is it really necessary to bother him? He has enough to deal with as it is. Have some compassion, can't you?”

“I do, for anybody in trouble. Especially a friend and associate who's been accused of crimes he didn't commit. If your brother is innocent of any wrongdoing, he has nothing to fear from me.”

“He'd better not have.”

Exit line: she walked away quickly toward the house. But she didn't go inside while I was still in her sight, and maybe not until after she heard my car start up out front.

 

19

On the way out of Danville I spotted a Taco Bell and turned into the parking lot. Not to eat—junk food is not one of my vices—but to buy a cup of bad coffee and make some phone calls.

The first call was to the agency to check in with Tamara. She'd gone to Runyon's arraignment—moral support—and I asked her how it had gone.

“As we expected,” she said bleakly. “Nothing new on the police investigation, and the hotshot from the DA's office argued that there was enough evidence to bind Jake over for trial. Judge agreed.”

“Without bail?”

“Yeah. Hard-ass, that judge. Dragovich tried to get him to set a reasonable figure, but he said the assault charge combined with the murder charge established what he called ‘a pattern of behavior' that made Jake a potential danger to society. Bail denied. So it's up to us to get him the hell out before the trial.”

“Judge set a trial date?”

“Not yet. Just scheduled a consultation with Dragovich and the ADA to determine when it'll be. Dragovich says at least three months, probably longer on account of the jammed-up court calendar.”

“Well, that gives us plenty of time, at least.”

“Longer it takes us, the longer Jake sits in a damn cell.”

“Try not to think about that,” I said. But it was spurious advice; I was thinking about it myself. “You have a chance to check on whether any of the possible suspects in Daniels's past lived in the city?”

“Yeah, Canaday did. For a couple of years when he was working for Pacific Rim Insurance.”

“When was that?”

“Ten years ago.”

Long time—too long to remember Lake Merced? “Any of the three have relatives in the city?”

“Nope. Nor any friends or business associates I could locate. You find out anything so far?”

“Some things we didn't know about.” I filled her in on the information I'd gathered from Helen Avery and Grace Lyman.

“Makes Avery and Canaday look like our best bets,” Tamara said. “Avery stalked Daniels once, maybe he started doing it again.”

“For what reason?”

“Pissed off about all the money she inherited. Got a mad on, stalked her, caught her alone somewhere and got up in her face, she went off on him, he lost it and killed her.”

“That would make sense if it'd happened two and a half years ago. He didn't resort to violence then, it's not likely he'd do it now. At least not for revenge. There'd have to be another reason for him to be guilty.”

“Money. Maybe he thought he could get some out of her.”

“Possible but not likely,” I said.

“Well, then, there's Canaday. He needs money badly, too.”

“So he does.” And if he had gone to Daniels for a handout, that blew off the remote possibility of her having blackmailed him into their affair. Blackmailers don't loan money to their victims. “How heavy were his recent losses?”

“Pretty heavy, from what I can find out.”

“Recoup at any time? Pay off any of his debts?”

“Doesn't look like it,” Tamara said. “Could be he tried borrowing from Daniels when she collected her two million and she turned him down. Or only gave him enough to dig himself a deeper hole. So he went back for more, she blew him off, there was a fight and she ended up dead.”

“Viable scenario if he was still involved with her before and after she inherited. Make that if he was involved with her in the first place.”

“Why if? Daniels admitted they were getting it on, right? And everybody you talked to confirmed it.”

“Daniels was a liar—her confession to Ostrander could've been a lie, too. The rest is all hearsay so far. What Avery told his mother, what Ostrander told his sister.”

“One way to verify it.”

“Ask Canaday,” I said. “I intend to, though probably not straight out. How long has he been playing the market and losing? Back as far as five years?”

“Longer. Two mortgages on his home, a personal loan that he's close to defaulting on.”

“Always in need of money, then. Badly strapped at times.”

“Yep. You thinking maybe there's something to Daniels's workplace fraud story?”

“Keeping an open mind. It wouldn't be anything Canaday could get away with long term, but there are ways for a risk-taker with his own agency to get his hands on cash for short periods. Phony claims. Convincing customers to make out premium checks to him instead of to the insurance company. You have a list of the companies he brokers for?”

“No, but I can get one.”

“Do that, and then check with the companies. Use some ploy to find out if any of them have had reason to question Canaday's business practices.”

“Leave it to me, boss.”

The coffee was cold now, wouldn't have been worth finishing even if it weren't. I got out of the car to dump it, got back in, and called home to find out how Kerry was getting on.

But I didn't find out.

Eight, nine, ten rings—no answer.

Didn't necessarily mean anything. She might have been so deeply involved in one of her advertising projects that she ignored the phone. Or in the bathroom. Or taking a nap; she wasn't sleeping as much now as she had been for a while, but when she did nap she tended to sleep deeply. But the nonresponse tightened my nerves just the same. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.