The Better Liar(58)

“That’s true,” Nancy replied. She pressed her lips together, then said measuredly, “He doesn’t post online.”

“You guys track that too?”

“Like I said, we figured he’d go down for taxes. His business doesn’t make enough for him to drive a ’67 Camaro. He had it restored and repainted within the last year.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What’s that, twenty grand?”

“More. No pawnshop in Corrales is moving enough to throw that much money away on a single car. He takes in people’s grandma’s jewelry, guns, art pieces from Santa Fe where the frame is worth more than the canvas. There’s no way.”

“Maybe he’s a drug dealer.”

    She tapped her fingers on the table. “The thing is, if you’re pulling down enough to move out of your mom’s basement and start restoring classic cars, I’m probably going to hear about it. It’s a hazard of the trade when your customers regularly get pulled over with your merchandise in their car.”

“But, I mean, how can it be profitable? There aren’t that many murders per year, right? It’s Albuquerque, it’s not, you know, Los Cabos.”

Nancy shook her head. “We get lectured on it every fucking month at the station. Violent crime here is more than twice what it is on average in the rest of the country. Most of it’s opioids. People assaulting one another because of drug money. I’m not surprised you don’t think it’s dangerous here, though. It’s not really dangerous for you.”

I looked up. “Because I’m white?”

Nancy lifted her shoulder. “And you don’t do drugs. Your biggest risk is what happened to Jennifer Clery.”

I pressed the name into my mind. “His wife.”

“Yeah.” She slid her hand across the table to cover mine, then withdrew it just as quickly. She’d remembered we were in public.

“Then Leslie has to be even safer. You should see their house. They have a lawn in the backyard, a real lawn, with real grass. And she doesn’t do drugs. Dave—her husband—he smokes a joint from time to time, and he hides it from her—that’s how much of a teetotaler she is.”

“What else do you know about Dave? Is he an angry person?”

I let my hands fall into my lap and glanced down. “Dave would never. He loves her.” But my mind was going a mile a minute. Had Leslie found out about the money to Elaine Campbell? Had she confronted him and—?

The lines around Nancy’s mouth deepened. “If you listen to those guys when they get arrested, that’s why they do it. Because they love their wives.”

“No way,” I said. “He’s got this big family, older sisters, loves his mom. They have a baby—he loves the baby.”

    “How about Leslie?” Nancy asked. “I don’t mean to be—you know. But while you were gone, did she have a big support system like that? Or did he isolate her?”

I fell silent.

“If he controls the finances, it can be very difficult to leave. Some women say they feel like there’s no way out.”

We gazed at each other for a few moments.

“I have to know,” I breathed at last. “Because when I think about it, I want to say Leslie doesn’t have it in her. But I can’t say that. Because I know she does.”

“If it makes you feel better…” Nancy trailed off, then swallowed and started again. “Most people do. When they feel trapped, most people do have it in them.”

She was so beautiful, even under the fluorescent lights. Her body was marked by strong, clean lines connecting one element to the next. It made her appear more sharply present than everyone else in the room, the way the cowboys looked in old Westerns. I couldn’t imagine her killing anybody, although I knew she’d been in the army.

“Can I talk to him? Frank Clery?” I asked.

Nancy leaned back. “I can’t bring you in. And anyway, he wouldn’t tell you if it’s true. He’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut most of the time.”

“I have to try.” I put a catch in my voice. “I have to know.”

“Why don’t you ask Leslie?” Nancy said. “If it’s true, she needs you right now.”

It was a good question. It took me several seconds to come up with an answer. “You don’t know how messed up our relationship was until last week. She hated me. She’s allowing me back into her life on a very, very temporary basis.” True. “If I start accusing her of—of crazy shit like this, she’ll throw me out immediately. And if she does that…” I took a deep breath. “I don’t think she’ll ever let me back in. She could die, Nancy. If Dave is really doing…what you think he’s doing—if she’s that far gone…I could be her last chance at getting help.”

    Nancy ran her hand through her hair. “Clery is not a nice guy, Robin. I don’t know what you think you’re going to say to him to make him talk to you.”

I was getting somewhere. “I’m an actress. I’m great at getting people on my side. I can see into his psychology.”

She smiled reluctantly. “An actress, huh?” Like she thought I was being cute.

“I know it probably won’t work,” I said, pressing my advantage. “But it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me try. This could be my last chance too, at—at having a family.” At staying in New Mexico. At staying with Nancy.