Page 43 of Luck of the Devil
I blinked, staring at her in shock. “A woman showed up at my mother’s house?”
Was that who she’d called on the burner phone?
“Yep, she walked right up to the front door, and your mother opened it before she even had a chance to knock. Your mother let her into the house, and the black car drove off. Then a few minutes later, Sarah Jane and the woman walked out from the back of the house, your mother rolling a suitcase behind her. They got in your mother’s car and left.”
I still couldn’t believe it. “Do you remember what this woman looked like?”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember much.”
“Anything would help. Maybe what she was wearing?”
Tapping her chin, she made a face and said, “Well, let’s see.” After two more taps, she dropped her hand. “She had on dark jeans and knee-high black boots. She was wearing a black T-shirt and a gray winter coat that hit her mid-thigh.”
That was not remembering much? “Do you happen to remember her hair color?”
“It was salt and pepper colored. Shoulder length. One of those bob cuts everyone associates with a Karla.”
Karla? I gave her a questioning look. “Do you mean a Karen?”
She waved her hand. “Karla, Karen. Whatever. Basically a bitch.”
“Are you saying the woman was a bitch?”
“Shoot no,” she said in irritation. “I never talked to her.”
“Did you recognize her? Any idea who she might be?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“How old do you think she was?”
“Well, she must have a great skin care routine, because her face looked like she was in her forties, but her hair made her look a little older. It was a lot more gray than dark.”
That didn’t necessarily mean anything. She could have been anywhere from thirties to sixties.
“Had you seen the woman at my mom’s house before?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at me with plenty of attitude. “You think I pay attention to the comings and goings at your mother’s house?”
That’s exactly what I thought, but I wasn’t about to admit it. I forced a smile. “Heavens, no, Mrs. Comstock, but I was hoping maybe you had noticed. You know, when you were gardening, or happened to see something when you left the house to go to the store.”
“Nope, that’s the only time I saw her, but I have to say, I was pretty surprised when I heard they pulled your mother out of the river and that woman wasn’t with her. I mean, it was obvious Sarah Jane was leavin’ town with her suitcase and all. I figured she and that woman were going on a trip together. It just seems odd Sarah Jane was in that car all alone.”
She had a very good point.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s very odd.” It meant my mother hadn’t headed straight out of town and off the bridge. At some point, the woman with her had gotten out of the car. Had the woman been part of her murder?
Or had she been in the car, and someone removed her body before the police found the car? That seemed highly unlikely.
“Do you remember anything else that might help me piece together what happened in the last few weeks of my mother’s life?”
She gave me a scrutinizing look. “I thought you were trying to put together her last few days.”
“I am,” I said nonchalantly. “It’s just that I don’t know anything about the woman she left with, so I’m curious if she had any other new friends I didn’t know about.”
“Friends,” she scoffed. “Sarah Jane Adams didn’t have friends.”
I couldn’t argue with her there. The behavior of the people who’d shown up at her funeral only proved her point. “Then maybe not friends,” I said, not feeling the need to protest my mother’s lack of relationships. “Maybe people you hadn’t seen at the house before?”
