Eugenia sighed. “I wondered when you’d ask about that. There wasn’t one, at least none that the police could find. No overnight bag. Nothing.”
“But surely . . . now wait a minute.”
“I know, I know, it sounds odd, but that’s all I know about it.”
Reluctantly, her mother-in-law set aside her knitting. “Nothing’s settled. You know, because of the accident . . . Maybe the police really do have it and are lying.”
“No way . . . I mean that’s too bizarre.”
“Is it?”
“Yes! Why would they do that? Because they suspect me of something?” Marla asked as the phone jangled in her hands. She answered before thinking. “Hello?”
“Marla. You’re awake. Good.” Alex’s voice had a sharp edge to it. “I just talked to Detective Paterno. Charles Biggs died this morning.”
“Oh, God, no.” She felt as if her bones were crumbling, as if she couldn’t possibly support herself any longer. Now not one, but two people dead.
“Marla? Are you okay? I just wanted to let you and Mother know what was going on. The police will probably be calling again. There’re some questions about how he died, maybe it wasn’t just from his wounds.” He paused for a second. “They think it might have been murder, that someone helped him along.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, but suddenly felt as cold as death.
“Neither do I, but I wanted to warn you.” Alex was irritated and worried; she could hear the tension in his voice, imagined the strain on his face. “Paterno won’t give up until he’s dug up something. I’ve dealt with him before.”
“You have?”
“You remember . . . oh, no . . . he was looking into some trouble we had down at Cahill House . . . the situation resolved itself, but he kept sniffing around . . . anyway, you’d better brace yourself. No doubt he’ll be calling you. With more questions. A lot more.”
“But I can’t tell him anything—”
“I know, I know, just be careful.”
“But he’s with the police.”
“The San Francisco Police. Your accident occurred in the mountains, far away from the city and yet he somehow lands in charge of the investigation. Look, I don’t trust him, okay? Just keep your cool.”
“I don’t have anything to hide,” she said and sensed Alex hesitating.
Her heart galumphed.
“Do I?” she demanded.
“Of course not, darling. I didn’t mean to rattle you. Just be careful.”
Shaking inside, fearing something she didn’t understand, Marla nodded, as if Alex could see through the telephone wires.
“What is it?” Eugenia asked, her lips drawn into a knot. Marla passed her the phone, tried to quiet the dull roar in her head. What was happening to her? Her stomach turned over at the thought of the poor man who’d been burned so horribly, then died.
Because of her.
Things couldn’t get worse, she told herself, but she had the nagging suspicion that she was wrong. Dead wrong.
Chapter Seven
“Nice do,” Joanna quipped as she stood on the front porch. She motioned to Marla’s hair with sleek fingers decorated with rings.
“Thanks, I did it myself.”
“That I believe.”