P Is for Peril

Once she slams the door, it's over. She loses big points for that, giving Crystal a tactical advantage."
    "I'd find it difficult."
    "Who doesn't? Girls her age are melodramatic by nature and Leila's high-strung. She's one of the brightest kids we have, but she's a handful. They all are-except for a few Goody Two-shoes. You never know where you stand with them. Personally, I prefer this, though it does get tedious."
    "Fitch is all girls?"
    "Thank God. I'd hate to imagine having to deal with boys that age, too. Can I fix you a drink?"
    "I better not, but thanks."
    She finished the last of her martini and then leaned forward and set her empty glass with a click on the light wood coffee table. "I understand you're here about Dowan."
    "Yes, and I'm sorry to intrude. I'm sure she's been through a lot since this ordeal began."
    "It can't be helped."
    "How's she doing?"
    "I'd say fair. Of course, the strain's been enormous. The days drag on and on, some worse than others. She keeps waiting for the phone to ring, looking for his car. The rumors keep flying, but that's about all. No real sign of him yet."
    "I'm sure it's hard."
    "Impossible. It really gets to her. If it weren't for Griff, I don't know how she'd manage to keep sane."
    "Where was she that night, this house or the other one, in Horton Ravine?"
    Nica pointed at the floor. "They're usually here on weekends. Crystal's a Pisces-a water baby. This is more her style than that pretentious pile of shit Fiona built in town. Have you been there?"
    "Not yet."
    "No offense," she added mildly. "I know she's your client." You poor thing went unsaid.
    "What about you? When did you hear Dow was missing?"
    "Well, I knew something was going on that first night. I'd driven Leila up from Malibu as usual-we arrived about five o'clock-and she went off to her dad's. He's her stepfather, really, but he's helped raise her from infancy. At any rate, Crystal had already talked to Dow when we pulled in from school. He knew he wasn't going to be free in time for supper, so it was just Crystal and Rand and me."
    "Rand?"
    "Griff's nanny. He's great. He's been with the baby ever since Griff was born. You'll meet both in a bit. Rand'll bring Griff in for his goodnight kiss right after his bath. By then he's had his supper and he's ready for bed. On the twelfth, we put together a cold picnic and ate it out on the deck. It was gorgeous-quite clear and very balmy for that time of year; warm enough to linger without sweaters, which is unusual out here. We chatted about nothing in particular while we worked our way through a couple bottles of red wine. At seven forty-five, Rand took Griff and went over to the other house. He's got a couple of TV shows he likes and he wanted to be there in time to settle in for those."
    "Rand and the baby stay at the house in Horton Ravine?"
    "Ordinarily, no. I think Crystal and Dow were looking forward to some time alone. I was probably here until ten o'clock. It wasn't late, but I was bushed, finally winding down for the week."
    "What time did she expect Dow?"
    "Any time after nine. That was usually his pattern when he had to work late. I guess if you're married to a doctor, you don't pay much attention to the clock. Crystal fell asleep on the couch. She called me at three in the morning after she woke and saw that he wasn't here. She thought he might've come in late and gone into the guest room to avoid disturbing her. She checked and when she realized he wasn't there, she came back down and flicked on the outside lights. His car wasn't there. She put a call through to the clinic and they said he'd been gone for hours. That's when she called me and I told her to call the cops. She couldn't file a report until at least seventy-two hours had passed."
    "What was she thinking? Do you remember what she said?"
    "The usual. Car accident, heart attack. She thought he might've been picked up by the cops."
    "What for?"
    "Driving under the influence."
    "He drinks?"
    "Some. Dow always has a couple glasses of whiskey at the clinic when he works late. It's his reward for putting in the hours above and beyond the call of duty. She's warned him about driving home afterward, but he always swears he's fine. She was worried he might've run off the road."
    "Was he on medication?"
    "Hey, at his age, who isn't? He's sixty-nine years old."
    "What went through your mind?"
    A brief smile nickered. "Odd you should ask. I thought about Fiona. I'd almost forgotten, but it's really what popped