The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(84)

“So the police are following up on this lead? This man she met for sex? They think he’s the killer?” asked Aaron, who was pale but composed, his hands resting gently in his lap. He was very well dressed for someone who didn’t have a job. He was wearing a full suit and a white shirt that had probably been professionally cleaned and starched. His tie was expensive silk, better than anything Kurt had ever worn. I realized, thinking back, that he’d always been dressed well—I just hadn’t noticed before, because of the context of our meetings.

Why had Carrie left Jared Helm and not come home? Why had she been virtually estranged from her parents?

I had been silent for too long. I had to focus to remember Aaron Weston’s question. “The man she met for sex? Yes, I suspect they will try to find him. I don’t know anything about that part.” It was hard to speak. Words demanded a certain distance from pain, and I felt as if the pain—the pain of Carrie’s death, of continually being reminded how little I knew about her, of how I’d failed her, of her daughter’s suffering, the pain of my own loss, so distant and yet so fresh—had come crashing down over my head, drowning me. They said that you eventually conquered grief, but it didn’t feel like that to me. It felt like grief conquered me again and again, and I never knew when it would strike.

“But they aren’t going to give up on the case, just because of how she was killed, are they?” asked Aaron.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. Then I took another breath. “It’s been given a lot of publicity. That’s thanks to you two, so I think you can take some comfort in that. You did help, in the end.”

“Do they know who he is? Do they have any information about him?” asked Aaron. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his hands, and the words sounded sad and almost rote.

“I don’t know. I’m sure they’re doing all they can,” I said.

“But do they have a name? A face? Anything?” Aaron’s questions were rapid-fire. “Do they know where she met him, if it was so close to where she died? Was it in a car? Did they have an argument? Did she change her mind about having sex with him and he got angry with her?”

I shook my head. “We’ll have to wait and see. I just wanted to make sure that you knew about this before it came out publicly.”

“But why?” said Judy. Her face was dripping makeup now.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “Maybe someday we will find out the answer. Maybe we won’t. We’ll have to live with it anyway.”

“I think Judy meant why would the police put out this information publicly?” Aaron asked. “They don’t have to tell all the details. It would only tarnish Carrie’s memory.”

“Oh. Of course.” I scrambled to think logically rather than emotionally. “They must think it will help them find the killer, if people know more about the circumstances of her death.” That was my own conclusion, anyway.

“Or maybe they’re doing it because we pressured them and made them look bad,” said Aaron darkly. “Maybe this is their revenge. We look bad in return. Carrie’s name is forever ruined. And what about Kelly? What will this do to that little girl?”

“I’m sure she won’t understand it,” I said. “She’s too young, really. That will protect her, in a way.” I felt a sensation like scissors in my stomach at the thought of Kelly Helm hearing this about her mother. I could imagine Jared and Alex Helm sitting her down and forcing her to listen to the details. They would want to pound into Kelly that her mother had been a bad woman, that Kelly should forget about her.

“And what about how it makes us look to our friends and neighbors, in the church? It will make everyone question the way that we raised our daughters. How will anyone trust me in a business situation? I used to have control over millions of dollars.” Aaron looked angry, but there was a thread of panic in his anger. It sounded like he cared more about his own vanity than his daughter’s death—or his granddaughter.

But I tried to be sympathetic. He had probably not slept for days, I reminded myself. And he had just buried his daughter. He had lost his job. He had this huge house to pay for. The pressure on him must be enormous. But even as his wife was reacting too dramatically, I could not help but think that he was taking this all in too coldly. Instead of feeling anguish, he seemed to be planning, thinking about his future business empires and his reputation. And that made me wonder about his lost job, and his choice to give up pursuit of custody of Kelly legally.

“There’s no need to make assumptions about what will happen in the future. One day at a time,” I said. I had thought that Kelly would be better off with the Westons, but suddenly I was not so sure.

I had seen real love, however twisted, between Alex Helm and Kelly. He was protective of her, and seemed to see her as more than an extension of himself. I wasn’t so sure about the Westons. I realized I had never seen them interact with Kelly, unless you counted Aaron Weston’s addressing his granddaughter from the funeral podium. Did the Westons love Kelly? It was humbling to realize how quickly I had jumped to the conclusion that they would feel for the little girl as I did.

I stayed a few minutes longer, then drove home in a daze, wondering if I had been a party to bringing Carrie Helm home from Las Vegas, and if that had ultimately led to her death. Was I part of her betrayal, too?