V Is for Vengeance

course not. It just took me by surprise.”
    “Sorry if it seemed dishonest. I wanted to do right by her.”
    “I understand,” I said. “While I’m here, would you mind my taking a look at her things?”
    “You can do that. Sure. Doesn’t amount to much. The desk was hers. My office is in the second bedroom. I cleared two drawers of a chest of drawers in the master. In the bathroom, she’s got the usual shampoo, deodorant, that kind of thing.”
    “Let’s start there.”
    “You want me to hang around or make myself scarce?”
    “Come with me. That way, if anything comes up, I can ask questions while I search.”
    He showed me into the bathroom off the master bedroom. “Margaret and I remodeled fifteen years ago. Tore out a wall here and opened these two bedrooms to form a master suite. Doesn’t look like much compared to new houses these days, but we were happy. We did a bump out in the kitchen to make like a breakfast nook and then added a screened-in porch.”
    I made what I hoped were appropriate responses while I sorted through the medicine cabinet and the vanity drawers she’d been allotted. He was right about her medications—no prescriptions at all. Sixty-three years old, you’d think she’d be into hormone-replacement therapy or thyroid medication, pills for high blood pressure or elevated cholesterol levels. Her personal hygiene products were just what you’d expect. Nothing exotic. I’d have been happy to see a tube of Mary Kay lipstick, just for the chance to track it back to the local rep.
    “The police still have her purse,” he said apropos of nothing.
    “Doesn’t surprise me. Too bad she didn’t take prescription meds. We might have tracked down her doctor and learned a thing or two.”
    When he saw that I’d run out of drawers to tackle, he said, “Bedroom’s this way.”
    I followed him into the bedroom where he pointed out the drawers she used. When I opened the first, I was greeted by a soft cloud of fragrance—lilac, gardenia, and something else.
    Marvin took a step back. “Whoa . . .”
    “What?”
    “That’s the White Shoulders I gave her on our six-month anniversary. It was like her signature perfume.” He shook his head once and his eyes flooded with tears.
    “Are you okay?”
    He gave his eyes a quick swipe. “Took me by surprise is all.”
    “You can wait for me in the other room if it’s easier.”
    “No need.”
    I went back to my search. Audrey’s tidiness extended to her lingerie. In both drawers, she was using fabric-covered boxes to store her neatly folded underpants, bras, and panty hose. I felt my way through the items without discovering anything. I pulled the drawers all the way out and checked for papers or other items taped under them or on the back. Zip.
    I crossed to the closet and opened the door. There were rods for double hanging, cubbyholes, shelf dividers, wire baskets, and cedar-lined shelves tucked away behind clear Lucite doors. Her wardrobe struck me as skimpy for a working woman. Two suits, two skirts, and a jacket. Of course, this was California, and work clothes were more casual and relaxed than in other places.
    Marvin’s side of the closet was as organized as hers. I said, “You guys are something else. She must have had a closet company come in and do this.”
    “Matter of fact, she did.”
    I removed stacks of folded sweaters, felt along the seams for anything hidden. I checked the pockets in her slacks and jackets, opened shoe boxes, and rooted through the laundry hamper. There was nothing of interest.
    I returned to the small desk in the living room, where I sat down and worked my way through the drawers he’d cleared for her. No address book, no month-at-a-glance calendar, no appointment book. It was possible her route was preset and she had no need to make penciled reminders to herself. But what about the ordinary day-to-day transactions? Everyone has to-do lists, scraps of paper, scratch pads with scribbled notes. There was none of that here. Which meant what? If Audrey had decided to kill herself, she might have systematically deleted anything of a personal nature. I wasn’t sure why she’d be that secretive unless she was paranoid about anything connected to her shoplifting extravaganzas. She’d been working with a younger woman. If the two were linked to a larger retail-theft ring, even a fragment of information might be telling. So maybe the other woman was the one who kept track of their activities.
    The