I Is for Innocent

Their kids ran away, or caused trouble. Not my little Tippy. She was so easy to get along with. She didn't do well in school and she had the 'flu' a lot, but otherwise she seemed fine. I guess I was in denial, because I know now she was drunk or hung over half the time."
    "You're lucky she straightened out."
    "Part of that was Izzy's death. It did us in. It made us closer. We lost the best friend we ever had, but at least it brought us back together."
    "How'd you find out about her drinking?"
    "She reached a point where she was drinking so much I couldn't miss it. By the time she reached high school, she was really out of control. Popping pills. She smoked dope. She'd had her driver's license six months and she'd already had two wrecks. Plus, she stole anything that wasn't nailed down. This was actually the autumn before Isabelle's murder at Christmastime. She'd started her junior year, cutting classes, flunking tests. I couldn't handle it. I kicked her out, so she went to live with her father. When Iz died, she came back." She stopped to light another cigarette. "Jesus. Why'm I telling you this stuff? Look, I gotta get back to class. Do you mind hanging out? I really do need a ride home if you can do me that."
    "Sure. I'd be happy to."

Chapter 8
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    I drove her home at 10:30 after class had ended. Most of the students were gone by five after ten, cars spilling out of the darkened parking lot with the sweep of headlights, engines thrumming. I offered to help her tidy up, but she said it'd be quicker if she did it herself. I wandered around the room, doing an idle survey while she emptied the coffee urn and rinsed it out, put away the drawing supplies, and then flipped out the lights. She locked the doors behind us and we headed for my VW, which was the only car left in the parking lot.
    As we drove through the gated driveway, she said, "I live in Montebello. I hope that's not too far out of your way."
    "Don't worry about it. I'm on Albanil, near the beach. I can come back along Cabana and it's no big deal."
    I turned right onto Bay, and then right again on Missile, picking up the freeway about two blocks down. She gave me directions to her place and for two miles we chatted idly, while I tried to decide what I could learn from her. "How'd you first hear about Isabelle's death?"
    "The cops called about two-thirty and told me what had happened. They asked if I'd come over there and just sit with Simone. I threw some clothes on, hopped in the car, and barreled over there right away. I was just in shock. The whole time I was driving, I kept talking to myself like some kind of nut. I didn't cry till I got there and saw the look on Simone's face. The Seegers were a mess. They kept telling the same story over and over again. I don't know which of us was in worse shape. Actually, I think I was. Simone was numb and out of it until David showed up. Then she lost it completely. She really came unglued."
    "Oh, that's right. He claimed he was jogging in the middle of the night. Did you believe him?"
    "God, I don't know. I did and I didn't. He'd been doing night runs for years. He said he liked it because it was quiet and he didn't have to worry about all the traffic and exhaust fumes. I guess he suffered from insomnia and roamed the house at all hours."
    "So he used the jogging to wind down when he couldn't sleep?"
    "Well, yeah, but on the other hand, the night of the murder, it seemed awfully contrived." She twisted a finger in an imaginary dimple in her cheek like a ditzy blonde. "'What a coincidence. I was just passing by on my two a.m. run.'"
    "Simone tells me he was living down the road at that point."
    She made a face. "In that awful house. He told the cops he was just getting back from a run when he saw the lights up at Isabelle's and stopped to see what was going on."
    "Did he seem upset?"
    "Well, I wouldn't say that, but then nothing seemed to move him. It was one of her big complaints. He was an emotional robot."
    "You mentioned Simone going nuts. What'd you mean by that?"
    "She got hysterical when he showed up, convinced he'd killed Isabelle. She always maintained the story about the stolen gun was pure bullshit. We'd all been in the house on countless other occasions. Why would any one of us suddenly sneak upstairs and steal David's thirty-eight, for God's sake? She figured it was part of a setup. I guess I'd have to agree."
    "So, you were at the dinner party Labor Day weekend when the gun disappeared?"
    "Sure, I