asking for absolution, I’d come to the wrong place. “You talked to her the other day. What did she say?”
Two days ago Betty Rowan had ordered me out of her daughter’s room, but most family members of the deceased, I’ve found, are eager to feed on crumbs of conversation, and so I would have to do.
“She didn’t say much that made sense, probably because of the sedation,” I told her. “She thought I was Nina—?” I ended with a question mark in my voice.
“Weldon,” the mother finished automatically, as I’d hoped she would. “Mousy thing. I don’t know what Lenore saw in her.”
“I guess they were close.”
“
Too
close.” She was frowning, and I wondered if she was jealous of their relationship. “I suppose I’ll have to call her. I have her number somewhere in my purse.”
“Do you want me to call her for you?” I’ll admit I’m not sure how much of my offer was prompted by curiosity, how much by my sincere desire to help.
The woman stiffened, almost imperceptibly. “No, that’s all right. She’ll take the news worse, coming from a stranger. She was here yesterday, and Lenore was doin’ so much better.” Betty ran a hand through her hair. “What else did Lenore tell you?”
“She said Robbie was very angry with her, that he wasn’t going to visit her. Because of Max. She said that twice. I assume Robbie is her ex-husband.” A guess, but Betty didn’t deny it.
The woman tightened her lips. “Did she say why he was angry?”
“No. She said that the accident was her fault, that she’d hoped for a second chance, but didn’t deserve it.”
“She was too hard on herself.” Betty shook her head. “I told her over and over, but she didn’t believe me. I seen this coming. Dr. Korwin says no, but a mother knows.” She pressed her hand against her heart.
“You think she tried to kill herself the other night?”
“I guess so. I guess she did, poor baby.” The mother sighed. “She wanted out of her pain.”
“Why was she so depressed?”
A spark of anger kindled in her eyes, but she smothered it. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Mrs. Rowan, something’s been puzzling me. Why would Lenore be in a nightgown trying to cross Laurel Canyon in the middle of the night?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“There’s a lot that bothers me, and not much I can do about it,” she said, the anger sparking again. “Did you ask Lenore?”
“She didn’t remember being there.”
Betty nodded. “It was the medication. She didn’t know what she was doing.”
“But why would she go to Laurel Canyon? Does she know anyone who lives around there?”
“It doesn’t make a difference, does it? Why she went there, what happened, whose fault it was. She’s at peace now, in God’s hands.” She glanced down the hall toward the south tower. “I’m going to talk to the detective, find out when I can see my baby.”
Without another word she walked away. I stood there for a moment, thinking about our conversation. It occurred to me that Betty Rowan had talked to me not because she was seeking comfort from Lenore’s final words, but because she was nervous about what her daughter had revealed.
nine
North of Sunset, Crescent Heights Boulevard changes its name and its densely populated residential/commercial character and morphs into Laurel Canyon, a tree-and-mountain-bordered two-lane road that quickly merges into one as it snakes its way up to Mulholland, then widens again on its descent into the San Fernando Valley.
On your right as you’re driving up, you’ll see a few apartment buildings and homes ranging from modest to grand, as well as convenience stores and an espresso bar and, for a short stretch, a side road that allows you to escape part of the rush-hour traffic I found myself in now—too many cars packed into the coils of a sluggish intestine. Also on your right, just north of Hollywood Boulevard, is the dark yellow
Two days ago Betty Rowan had ordered me out of her daughter’s room, but most family members of the deceased, I’ve found, are eager to feed on crumbs of conversation, and so I would have to do.
“She didn’t say much that made sense, probably because of the sedation,” I told her. “She thought I was Nina—?” I ended with a question mark in my voice.
“Weldon,” the mother finished automatically, as I’d hoped she would. “Mousy thing. I don’t know what Lenore saw in her.”
“I guess they were close.”
“
Too
close.” She was frowning, and I wondered if she was jealous of their relationship. “I suppose I’ll have to call her. I have her number somewhere in my purse.”
“Do you want me to call her for you?” I’ll admit I’m not sure how much of my offer was prompted by curiosity, how much by my sincere desire to help.
The woman stiffened, almost imperceptibly. “No, that’s all right. She’ll take the news worse, coming from a stranger. She was here yesterday, and Lenore was doin’ so much better.” Betty ran a hand through her hair. “What else did Lenore tell you?”
“She said Robbie was very angry with her, that he wasn’t going to visit her. Because of Max. She said that twice. I assume Robbie is her ex-husband.” A guess, but Betty didn’t deny it.
The woman tightened her lips. “Did she say why he was angry?”
“No. She said that the accident was her fault, that she’d hoped for a second chance, but didn’t deserve it.”
“She was too hard on herself.” Betty shook her head. “I told her over and over, but she didn’t believe me. I seen this coming. Dr. Korwin says no, but a mother knows.” She pressed her hand against her heart.
“You think she tried to kill herself the other night?”
“I guess so. I guess she did, poor baby.” The mother sighed. “She wanted out of her pain.”
“Why was she so depressed?”
A spark of anger kindled in her eyes, but she smothered it. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Mrs. Rowan, something’s been puzzling me. Why would Lenore be in a nightgown trying to cross Laurel Canyon in the middle of the night?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“There’s a lot that bothers me, and not much I can do about it,” she said, the anger sparking again. “Did you ask Lenore?”
“She didn’t remember being there.”
Betty nodded. “It was the medication. She didn’t know what she was doing.”
“But why would she go to Laurel Canyon? Does she know anyone who lives around there?”
“It doesn’t make a difference, does it? Why she went there, what happened, whose fault it was. She’s at peace now, in God’s hands.” She glanced down the hall toward the south tower. “I’m going to talk to the detective, find out when I can see my baby.”
Without another word she walked away. I stood there for a moment, thinking about our conversation. It occurred to me that Betty Rowan had talked to me not because she was seeking comfort from Lenore’s final words, but because she was nervous about what her daughter had revealed.
nine
North of Sunset, Crescent Heights Boulevard changes its name and its densely populated residential/commercial character and morphs into Laurel Canyon, a tree-and-mountain-bordered two-lane road that quickly merges into one as it snakes its way up to Mulholland, then widens again on its descent into the San Fernando Valley.
On your right as you’re driving up, you’ll see a few apartment buildings and homes ranging from modest to grand, as well as convenience stores and an espresso bar and, for a short stretch, a side road that allows you to escape part of the rush-hour traffic I found myself in now—too many cars packed into the coils of a sluggish intestine. Also on your right, just north of Hollywood Boulevard, is the dark yellow
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