“I got there shortly after 8:00. I left by 9:30 so that I could get to work by 10:00,” Elaine added.
“That’s a pretty exact recollection,” Rena said.
“It’s what I do three or four days a week. Not that hard to remember.”
A.L. considered the information. It added up. Milo had said that she was a gambler. Said that she generally arrived at work about ten. “Why did you lie the first time?” he asked.
Elaine looked at Rena. “You asked the question in front of my daughter. She...hates that I gamble. We’ve had words about it. So I hide it from her. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
A.L. looked around. “This is a real nice house in a real nice neighborhood. You must do pretty well at the casino.”
“The casino always ultimately wins,” she said. “Everybody knows that. But there have been times that I’ve done okay. I just enjoy it. Maybe that’s what makes Leah angry. But, quite frankly, it’s not really Leah’s or anybody else’s business how I choose to spend my time or my money. I choose what makes me happy and I don’t need anybody’s approval.”
Elaine was now even more pissed off. They must have been some words.
Rena leaned forward, put her notebook and pen on the table. “You were arrested for child endangerment and illegal narcotics,” she said.
Elaine didn’t flinch. “Yes. I had a bad habit and I paid a price for my stupidity. Marijuana. Cocaine. Pills. I was a regular user. I was collateral damage, got caught up in a sweep that was focused on somebody else. But there were witnesses who testified that I’d done the drugs in my home, in front of my child. It was true. I never let her touch them but...that hardly matters, right?”
“No,” Rena said, her voice hard.
“I did my time,” Elaine said. “And it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I kicked the habit.”
“Leah knows?” A.L. asked.
“Of course. During my jail time, she was in the foster care system. Had to change schools. It was hard on her. Hard on both of us. But we made it through. Got past it. It was just Leah and me for a lot of years. She was in high school when I married Bert Broadstreet. He was a good man. Unfortunately, he died eight years later. Heart attack. This,” she said, waving her hand around her house, “is because of Bert. He had always been a good saver and quite frankly, I’m benefiting from that today.”
“Would you say that there’s lots of friction between you and your daughter?” A.L. asked.
Elaine shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s friction. It’s just lately she seems determined to find fault with me, to find fault with the things I do. To have others find fault with me.” She stopped. “Never mind. Now is certainly not the time to be dwelling on that.”
“Is your daughter’s marriage in good shape?” A.L. asked.
“Why would you ask me that?” Elaine responded, her tone sharp.
“Because I thought I detected a hint of...something,” A.L. said. “Something that told me that everything wasn’t exactly right.”
Elaine scratched her ear with her right index finger. “I’ve noticed that lately, too,” she said. “I haven’t asked. And Leah hasn’t volunteered any information.”
“You don’t have any reason to believe that either one of them is in any way responsible for Emma’s disappearance?” A.L. asked.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “They both love that little girl. With all their hearts.”
A.L. glanced at Rena. When she folded up her notebook, he stood. “I think we’re done,” he said.
Elaine stood, too. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I wasn’t completely forthcoming earlier. It’s just complicated. I try not to disappoint my daughter if I don’t have to.”
It was dumb to lie to the cops but A.L. somewhat understood the circumstances. She’d been attempting to avoid a confrontation with her daughter. He wasn’t always absolutely forthcoming with Traci. For example, she knew that he’d recently been to California on vacation but didn’t know that he’d gone with Tess.
“Did you tell Milo about the conviction?” Elaine asked.
A.L. shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t see the need. If he’d done a background check on you, he’d have found the information himself.”
“If I can keep it from my son-in-law, too, that would be best.”
“You don’t think Leah has told him?” Rena asked.
“We haven’t talked about it for years but the last time we did, she said that she hadn’t. She didn’t do that for me. Like I said, it was a hard time for her. She told me that she’d put it behind her. She told me that there was nothing to be gained from dusting off the drama and giving it air.”
“We’ll attempt to keep your confidences as much as we’re able,” A.L. promised, knowing better than to ever promise absolute confidentiality. Sometimes shit happened and every scab got scratched and ripped open.
“I appreciate that. But know this, Detectives. If it helps you find my granddaughter, I don’t care if it’s the lead story in the Bulletin.”
“Right. Good evening.” He and Rena walked back to their car.
When they got inside, Rena turned to him. “Well, I definitely didn’t see any cognitive failure. As my grandmother might have said, Elaine Broadstreet is full of piss and vinegar.”
“Agree.”
“I have to admit, I was a little surprised when you asked Elaine her opinion on the Whitmans’ marriage.”
“Yeah, I know. But there’s something about her that I like.”
“She’s a felon and she lied to us.”
“There is that.” A.L. flipped through his notes. “What do you think about this Steven Hanzel and the fund-raising site?”
“Not surprised,” she said. “They might need it.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you really think that Leah hasn’t told Troy about her mother’s small transgressions and subsequent time in jail?” Rena asked.
“I don’t know. And I’m not sure of a way to ask him without tipping our hand. I guess we could ask Leah if it comes to that,” A.L. said.
“Tough on a kid to suddenly get dumped into the foster system and have to change schools,” Rena said.
Rena’s phone dinged. She picked it up. Studied it. Made that weird face she always did when something wasn’t quite right.