An Absence of Light

Valerie Heath studied him. She had crossed one leg over the other and was swinging it gingerly, the cellulite dimpling the lower sides of her weathered thighs. If Neuman had guessed right, she was one hell of a confused woman right now, and he didn’t think she was having any luck puzzling through it.

“And you traced her to here,” she said stiffly, slapping the cigarette in her mouth and sucking on it.

Neuman nodded his head slowly.

She glared at him, her eyes flat with anger.

“You told Ms. Aldridge that you had another woman living with the two of you at that time,” Neuman said. “Is she still with you?”

“No.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s moved.”

“Oh. Well, do you know where she moved to? Maybe she knew where Ms. Synar went after she left here.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

Neuman nodded. “What was her name?”

This last question seemed to bring Valerie Heath to the boiling point.

“Look, goddamn it, I don’t know you from Adam,” she said. “You just walk in here…” She was shaking her head in frustration. “Let me see that ID again.”

“Oh, sure,” Neuman said, and he took it out of his pocket once more, stood, and leaned across the coffee table to hand it to her. This time she actually read the card which, of course, she hadn’t done when Neuman first showed it to her. Moving it away from her until it came into focus at about arm’s length, she concentrated on the words though her hand was shaking so badly Neuman couldn’t imagine how she could read it As she squinted at the ID, Neuman nudged Paula with his knee and tapped the mailing label on one of the magazines lying upside down on the coffee table.

After studying the card a moment, Valerie Heath gestured at Neuman with it though she didn’t get up. Neuman stood again and took it back.

“I’m going to check you out, mister,” Valerie Heath threatened, her lips quivering with emotion. “Tomorrow I’m calling… I’m checking you out, mister. I’m not going to answer any more questions.”

“Ms. Heath,” Neuman said slowly. “Please, I can assure you…”

Valerie Heath jumped to her feet, almost losing her romper top which she quickly retrieved, yanking up on the sides.

“Get the hell out of here,” she said. She was trembling, her eyes blinking furiously, her anger tinged with something besides antagonism.

Neuman and Paula stood, and Neuman started to say something else, but Valerie Heath beat him to it.

“Get out of here!” She stretched a leathery arm toward the front door, a trail of cigarette ashes following the arc of her gesture.

“Look, I apologize if I offended you”-Neuman was keeping up the patter all the way to the door-”but I had to ask these questions. I mean, this is just part of the job. It’s what we have to do if we’re going to help…”

They were outside, and Valerie Heath slammed the door behind them.

“Jesus,” Paula gasped as they walked out through the courtyard. “I thought she was going to start hitting you. I really thought she was going to.”

“You were a lot of help in there, Paula,” Neuman said, grinning at her.

“Next time, hotshot, why don’t you let me in on the game plan and you might get some help. What did you expect me to do?”

They walked back along the drive through the drifting mist of the sprinkler system which was still hissing.

“What was your impression?” Neuman asked as they got into the car.

“Well, for starters, it was a total washout She didn’t give us one ounce of information we didn’t already know.”

“Yeah, but what was your impression about how she reacted to the whole thing about Colleen Synar?”

Paula thought a second. “Frightened. Yeah, she seemed scared, actually. And confused.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Neuman said, starting up the car. “And I noticed she didn’t threaten to call the cops if we didn’t get out.” He turned on the headlights and drove past the house. When he got to the intersection where the street entered the mainland, he made a U-turn and started back.

“What’s the deal?” Paula said. “You’re not going to go back there…”

“Just wait a second,” he said. He cut his headlights just before reaching the house again and glided past, doubling back at the end of the street. He pulled to the curb and parked behind one of several cars between him and Valerie Heath’s. He cut the motor.

“I think we really rattled her cage,” Neuman said. “You saw the name on the magazine subscription label?”

“Irene Whaley.”

Neuman picked up the radio and called in the license plate on the Corvette. Paula rolled down her window and flapped the top of her dress for air. The night had grown sultry and with the dead air came an occasional waft of strong harbor odors. When the call came back on the car they both listened. It belonged to Frances Rupp, same address.

Paula looked at Neuman. “What the hell’s going on?”

Neuman shook his head, watching the house. “I do not know.” And then: “Okay, here we go.”