And Now She's Gone(25)

“A little, but her coworkers told me that she was upset on that Friday.”

“You went to the Alumni Center?” Tea asked, eyes big.

“Yeah. They were very helpful.”

“Isabel and Ian had been arguing all week. They were supposed to go out of town that Friday night. He didn’t show up, though. So, remembering what he did on Valentine’s Day, Isabel drove to his house. He lives over by the Farmers Market, off Fairfax.” Tea took a big bite of torta and meat tumbled from the bun to the plate. “Anyway, she knocked, because he never gave her a key, even though he has keys to her mailbox and to her front door. So he answered but wouldn’t let her in. That’s when she saw one of his nurses—”

“Blonde?” Gray asked. “Pretty? Looks like Michelle Pfeiffer?”

“Uh-huh. You meet her?”

“No. She popped in his office while we were talking.”

“Well,” Tea continued, “Isabel saw her—her name’s Trinity—standing in his bedroom door and—” Tears shimmered in Tea’s eyes and beaded on those magnificent eyelashes. “She was so upset, cuz she knew for sure now that he was cheating on her. She shouted at him, and he slapped her, right there, in front of his other woman, then kicked Isabel out.

“She called me around ten, eleven o’clock that night, and I’m listening to her, and I’m saying to myself, She doesn’t sound right. She was talking slow and strange. I drove over to her place, and the door was unlocked, and so I went in, and there she was, on the bathroom floor, and there were pills…” Tea covered her mouth with her hand to tamp back a sob. “Pills everywhere.”

Gray’s ears warmed and she put a shaky hand atop Tea’s trembling wrist. “So, she tried to commit suicide? Ian says—”

“I know what Ian says,” Tea snapped. “She wouldn’t let me call nine-one-one. She wouldn’t let me take her to the doctor—especially since he probably knew all the emergency room docs in L.A. She told me that if God wanted her to live, she’d live. So I just sat there with her, and I prayed that He’d save her, and I prayed and hoped that she hadn’t taken enough pills.

“She made it through Friday night. Was sick, though, all Saturday and Sunday. It was God’s will that she survived.”

“And then she left on Monday?”

Tea nodded.

According to Mrs. Tompkins, Isabel had climbed into a black truck that Monday morning.

“What about her family?” Gray asked. “What did they say?”

“She didn’t tell her parents,” Tea said, nibbling shredded lettuce. “She knew that they’d write her out of their will or something if she didn’t get therapy, go to rehab, or do whatever happens after suicide attempts. So we kept it secret.”

“And her other friends—did they know?”

“What other friends?”

“The ones I see on her Facebook page. Wine tasting in Temecula and brunch—”

“Oh. Them. They’re not her real friends,” Tea said, chin high. “They’re more for show. For drinking—cuz I don’t drink. I don’t know them and I don’t want to know them. They want her to stay with Ian. For his money and for his status, for all of the material things he gives her. Isabel could never admit to them … to women like that … that she’s … that Ian’s…”

Gray nodded, understanding. “Do they know that she’s gone?”

Tea shrugged.

“You haven’t told them?”

“No. They’re not worried about her, either. They don’t miss her. Not one of them has reached out to me and she’s been gone all of June, most of July, and her birthday is tomorrow, and they’re busy drinking and smoking weed and sleeping around. They’re partly responsible for Isabel’s depression. She was becoming like them—her soul was conflicted.”

“So, you told Ian that Isabel tried to kill herself. And he said…”

“He said, ‘She can’t even die right.’”

“You heard him say that?”

“No. That’s what he texted.”

“To you?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Like, a few days after everything happened.”

“Isabel was long gone by then.”

Tea nodded.

“You were still in contact with her.”

Tea nodded again.

“But Ian didn’t think anything was wrong…”

“Until around June first. That’s when he contacted the police. He tried calling her, but she wouldn’t answer. He went to her place, but she was gone. Then he claimed that she stole Kenny G. That’s why he hired you. He doesn’t care about her—he just wants his damned dog.”

“Speaking of the dog…”

“Isabel always took care of him, cuz of Ian’s schedule. He’s as much her dog as his.”

“But he bought the dog, Tea. He probably pays the license for the dog, and I think you’re right—he cares more about the dog than about her. But she has to give him back. I can arrange for a swap. Or you can retrieve him and bring him back.”

“I’ll ask Isabel, but don’t hold your breath.” A tear tumbled down Tea’s cheek and she dabbed it with a knuckle. “She knew that he didn’t care. She knew that he wanted her dead, and she decided to leave—for good this time.”