Gwen pushed at a strand of gray hair with a capable looking hand. “They were almost college age by then. In fact, Gregory had left that fall and Diane left the year after. But they were very messed-up kids. Laurence was a strict disciplinarian. Not that I have any quarrel with that — I think kids need structure but he was a very controlling person, really out of touch with anything emotional, rather aggressive in his manner of dealing with anyone, the kids in particular. So the two of them, after five years of that regime, were both withdrawn and shut-down. Defensive, uncommunicative. From what I could tell, his relation to them was based on attack, being held accountable, much like what he had done with me. Of course, I’d been seeing them alternate weekends and that sort of thing, and I had the usual summer visitation. I just didn’t have any idea how far it had gone. And his death was a kick in the head to them on top of that. I’m sure they both had a lot of feelings that were never resolved. Diane went straight into therapy. And Gregory’s seen someone since, though not regularly.” She paused a moment. “I feel like I’ve giving you case histories here.”
“Oh no, I appreciate your candor,” I said. “Are the kids here in town too?”
“Greg’s living south of Palm Springs. Salton Sea. He has a boat down there.”
“What sort of work does he do?”
“Well, he doesn’t have to do anything. Laurence did provide for them financially. I don’t know if you’ve checked on the insurance yet, but his estate was divided equally between the three kids-Greg, Diane, and Nikki’s son, Colin.”
“What about Diane? Where is she?”
“She’s in Claremont, going to school. Working on another degree. She’s interested in teaching deaf children and she seems to do very well. It worried me some at first because I suspect, in her mind, it was all tied up — my divorce, Nikki, Colin, and her responsibility — even though it had nothing to do with her.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t understand what you mean,” I said.
Gwen glanced up at me with surprise. “I thought you’d already talked to Nikki.”
“Well, I talked to her once, ” I said.
“Didn’t she tell you Colin was deaf? He was deaf from birth. I don’t really remember what caused it, but there was nothing they could do about it apparently. Diane was very upset. She was thirteen, I think, when the baby was born and maybe she resented the intrusion. I don’t mean to be so analytical at every turn but some of this came out with her psychiatrist and it seems pertinent. I think now she can articulate most of it herself — in fact she does — so I don’t think I’m violating any confidence.”
She selected a couple of strands of ribbon from about twenty spools hung on pegboard on the wall above the grooming table. She laid a blue and an orange on Wuffles’s head. “What do you think, Wuf? Blue or orange?”
Wuffles raised her (I assumed) eyes and panted happily, and Gwen chose the orange, which I must admit made a certain jaunty sense against Wuffles’s silver-gray mop of hair. The dog was docile, full of trust, loving every move even though half of Gwen’s attention was turned to me.
“Gregory was into drugs for a while,” Gwen said conversationally. “That’s what his generation seemed to do while mine was playing house. But he’s a good kid and I think he’s okay now. Or as okay as he’ll ever be. He’s happy, which is a lot more than most of us can say — I mean, I’m happy but I know a lot of people who aren’t.”
“Won’t he get tired of boating?”
“I hope so,” Gwen said lightly. “He can afford to do anything he wants, so if the leisure begins to pall, he’ll find something useful to do. He’s very smart and he’s a very capable kid, in spite of the fact that he’s idle right now. Sometimes I envy him that.”
“Do you think it would distress the kids if I talked to them?”
Gwen was startled at that, the first time she’d seemed disconcerted by anything. “About their father?”
“I may have to at some point,” I said. “I wouldn’t like to do it without your knowledge, but it might really help.”
“I suppose it would be all right,” she said, but her tone was full of misgivings.
“We can talk about it later. It may not be necessary at all.”
“Oh. Well. I don’t see how it could hurt. I must say, I don’t really understand why you’re into this business again.”
“To see if justice was done, I guess,” I said. “It sounds melodramatic, but that’s what it amounts to.”
“Justice to whom. Laurence or Nikki?”
“Maybe you should tell me what you think. I’m assuming there was no love lost between you and them, but do you think he got his ‘just deserts’?”
“Sure, why not? I don’t know about her. I figure she had a fair trial and if that’s the way it came out, well she must have done it. But there were times I’d have done it myself if I had thought of some way.”
“So if she killed him, you wouldn’t blame her?”
“Me and half a dozen others. Laurence alienated a lot of people,” she said carelessly. “We could have formed a club and sent out a monthly newsletter. I still run into people who sidle up to me and say ‘Thank god he’s dead.’ Literally. Out of the comer of their mouths.” Gwen laughed again. “I’m sorry if that sounds irreverent but he was not a nice man.
“But who in particular?”
She put her hand on her hip and gave me a jaded look. “If you got an hour, I’ll give you a list,” she said.
I laughed then. Her humor seemed irrepressible or maybe she was only feeling ill at ease. Talking to a private eye is often unnerving to people,
Gwen put Wuffles in an empty cage and then went into the other room and led out a big English sheepdog. She lifted its front feet first, placing them on the table, and then she heaved its hind legs up while the dog whined uneasily.
“Oh come on, Duke,” she snapped. “This one is such a sissy.”
“Do you think we could talk again soon?” I asked.
“Sure, I’d like that. I close up here at six. If you’re free then, we can have a drink. By the end of the day, I’m ready for one.”
“Me too. I’ll see you then,” I said.
I hopped down off my stool and let myself out. When the door closed, she was already chatting with the dog. I wondered what else she knew and how much of it she was willing to share. I also hoped to hell I could look that good in another ten years.
CHAPTER 6
I stopped off at a pay phone and gave Nikki a call. She picked up on the third ring.
“Nikki? This is Kinsey. I have a request. Is there any way I can get into the house where you and Laurence lived?”
“Sure. I still own it. I’m just leaving to drive up to Monterey to bring Colin back but it’s en route. I can meet you there if you like.”
She gave me the address and said she’d be there in fifteen minutes or so. I hung up and headed for my car. I wasn’t sure what I was after but I wanted to walk through the place, to get a feel for what it was like, living as they lived. The house was in Montebello, a section of town where there are rumored to be more millionaires per square mile than in any other part of the country. Most of the houses are not even visible from the road. Occasionally you can catch a glimpse of a tiled roof hidden away in tangles of olive trees and live oak. Many parcels of land are bordered by winding walls of hand-hewn stone overgrown with wild roses and nasturtiums. Towering eucalyptus trees line the roads, with intermittent palms looking like Spanish exclamation points.
The Fifes’ house was on the comer of two lanes, shielded from view by ten-foot hedges that parted at one point to admit a narrow brick driveway. The house was substantial: two stories of putty-colored stucco with white trim. The facade was plain and there was a portico to one side. The surrounding land was equally plain except for patches of California poppies in shades of peach and rich yellow, gold, and pink. Beyond the house, I could see a double garage with what I guessed was a caretaker’s quarters above. The lawns were well tended and the house, while it had an unoccupied look, didn’t seem neglected. I parked my car on the portion of the drive that circled back on itself to permit easy exit. In spite of the red-tiled roof, the house looked more French than Spanish: windows without cornices, the front door flush with the drive.