I walked with her to the garage at the rear of the property and waited while she backed her car into the alleyway. I closed the garage door after her and circled the house to the front, where my Honda was parked. Meanwhile, she’d driven along the alley and pulled around to the front, where she eased her car in behind mine. We proceeded in a slow two-car motorcade. I kept an eye on her in my rearview mirror, noting how anxiously she scanned the darkened streets. At Henry’s, I left my car with the engine running while she parked in his drive. I let her into the studio and then went back out to scout for a parking place of my own.
Once that was taken care of, it didn’t take long to get Ruthie settled. I keep the sofa bed made up with fresh sheets, so all I had to do was add two pillows and a quilt. At 10:00, we said our good nights and I climbed the spiral staircase and got ready for bed. It was comforting to have someone else on the premises. I was reminded of the nights Dietz had camped out on the same sofa bed. Waking in the wee hours, if I peeked down from the loft, I’d see him reading or watching television with the sound turned so low, I could have sworn it was off.
I slid under the covers and I was just about to turn out my bedside lamp when I identified the idea my subconscious had been trying to bring to my attention. I got out of bed and crossed to the railing where the loft overlooks the living room below. I could see Ruthie propped up in the sofa bed, a book open in her lap.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you. Henry broke the code on the number cipher Pete created. Turned out to be a list of women’s names. Six of them.”
She looked up. “You want to come down or talk to me over the rail?”
I padded down the stairs barefoot, my oversize T-shirt skimming the tops of my knees.
She moved her feet so I could perch on the bottom of her fold-out bed. I could feel the bed frame through the mattress and wondered how she could bear it. I’d never had a complaint, but the supports felt like the metal struts on a sewer grate.
Ruthie set her book aside. “So six women’s names. Was mine one of them?”
“Nope. So far, I don’t think this has anything to do with you.”
“You know who they are?”
“The first two are Shirley Ann Kastle and Lenore Redfern, both from Burning Oaks. The third is Phyllis Joplin, who’s either from Perdido or currently living there. The fourth is a psychologist named Taryn Sizemore. I talked to her. Number five is a woman named Susan Telford in Henderson, Nevada. The last name is Janet Macy in Tucson, Arizona. Four are definitely connected to Ned Lowe, and I suspect the other two are as well.”
“Ned Lowe’s the guy whose daughter got married? What’s that about?”
“I’m not sure. I had a chat with Taryn this afternoon. She’s the one who pointed out the link.”
“Name’s familiar, but refresh my memory.”
“Oh, sorry. She’s the gal who sued Ned Lowe back in 1978.”
“Right. I remember now.”
“Lenore Redfern was Ned’s first wife. Phyllis Joplin was his second. Taryn said she knew about Shirley Ann Kastle, but that’s as far as she’d go. I haven’t identified the other two, and Taryn didn’t recognize the names. I’m curious why Pete put together the list of names and why he encrypted them.”
“Don’t look at me. He never said a word about any of this,” she said. “You have a theory?”
“I do, but you won’t like it.”
“Why is that relevant?”
“I don’t want to get your dander up. I’m just playing with ideas.”
“Fine. Duly noted. Now get on with it.”
“I think Pete was collecting hush money.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Blackmail?”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“Of course not. So who’s he blackmailing now? And don’t say Ned Lowe.”
“I won’t say Ned Lowe, but that’s what I’m thinking.”
“Bullshit.”
“Don’t be so defensive. Suppose it was Ned Lowe and Pete was pressuring him. Pete’s killed and at first the guy thinks he’s safe and everything’s good. Then he gets worried Pete had something that would prove incriminating if it ever came to light.”
“But why Ned Lowe in particular? As far as I know, Pete never even met the man.”
“You can’t be sure of that, and neither can I. Pete kept a lot of information to himself. The point is, he was working for Byrd-Shine when the lawsuit was filed. It was their job to find dirt on Taryn Sizemore, which apparently they did. Pete might have learned something just as damning about Ned Lowe. The list is a roster of women, and I believe all of them are tied to Ned Lowe in some way. Girlfriends, wives—romantic interests would be my guess. What I don’t know is why the list constitutes a threat.”
