“What?”
“I’m there all day every day, alone a lot of the time. Men know where to find me. They have the right to come in and look at me, unless I bar them, which as a practical matter is tough. They can sit in my café for hours, even have me wait on them. It can make for uncomfortable situations.”
I’ve never thought about it that way. I’m guilty of exactly that. “And . . . ?”
“I’ve learned a lot about men during that time. A lot of guys have hit on me in that shop. I’ve seen every type. Beau Holland is one of the worst. Vain, arrogant, pushy, no concern for anyone but himself. He can’t imagine any woman saying no to him—or meaning no, rather.”
“And Max? You told me he hit on you more than once.”
“He has, absolutely. But not like Beau. Max has a sense of humor about it. He’ll make a remark or whatever, some double entendre, but he knows when to back off. With me, anyway.” Nadine turns to me as she drives, letting me see her eyes. “All my instinct tells me he’s not the guy to try to take it when he’s not wanted.”
Something in her voice frightens me, but it also triggers anger. “You should have seen him trying to rip Jet’s shirt off earlier tonight.”
“You saw that happen?”
“I was across the Parnassus pool from them. He attacked her. That’s when she hit him with the hammer.”
“See? I’m an asshole. I’ve just been trying to make sense of why Jet never left that marriage.”
“That bothered me, too,” I admit. “I don’t mean after Kevin was born, or even after she discovered she was pregnant. But right after the rape.”
“Exactly. Jet wasn’t a teenager. She was, what, thirty-three? And an attorney.”
“I asked her about it. She couldn’t give me an answer. Only that she wasn’t as strong as she’d thought she was.”
“I’m not criticizing her,” Nadine says quickly. “And I’m not speaking lightly of this. I’ve been assaulted twice, almost raped both times. I managed to get out of those situations, but not unscathed.”
“Did you report it?”
“The first time, no. Second time, yes. But we’re not talking about me tonight.”
“Jet has serious issues because of her father abandoning her. She was also worried that Paul would kill himself if she left. He was suicidally depressed. And remember what Sally told you: Max is a truly evil man. Jet discovered that fact thirteen years before Sally did. She told me he takes trips to Vietnam to have sex with young prostitutes. Who knows what really kept her in that family?”
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Nadine says, sounding genuinely upset.
“No, I understand. I’ve listened to a lot of stories in my life, and there’s something that doesn’t feel quite right about Jet’s narrative. I hate saying that.”
“Why did Sally give the cache to me?” Nadine asks. “That’s the nub of it. Jet was the natural choice. She’s a practicing attorney. She’s Sally’s daughter-in-law. She’d crusaded against the Poker Club. She seemed unafraid of Max. Why didn’t Sally talk to Jet as soon as she suspected the truth? Unless . . .”
“She was afraid to,” I finish. “That’s what you’re thinking. And not just because she might scare Jet into running with Kevin.”
“Yes,” Nadine says quietly. “I don’t want to go any further than that. If you want to know more, you should go talk to Tallulah in the morning. She knows more than any of us.”
“You spoke to her today, right? About your mom and Max?”
“I did. But let’s leave it there. All this gets about as personal as anything can. And when you’re dealing with human beings, everyone has their own agenda. You can’t be sure you’re getting pure truth from anybody. You know that. I’m not even sure I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“Jesus,” I whisper. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not suggesting anything weird, okay? Just . . . you need to go down that road on your own. I can’t get between you and Jet. I don’t want to.”
Two semi trucks traveling in tandem blow past us, and the Acura shudders.
The implications of Nadine’s reasoning have left me cold, almost disoriented. Maybe it’s just sleep deprivation. For a few seconds I wonder if Jet is with Paul right now and, if so, if she’s all right. After that scene at the hospital, there’s no telling how he might treat her. For now, I have to trust that she’d text me if she were in trouble.
To distract myself from these thoughts, I say, “Did Sally ever consider killing Max? I mean, straight-up murder. Talk about having a good motive . . .”
“I know, right? She not only considered it, she planned it. But when the moment came, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Sally didn’t go to church much, but she was deeply religious.”
“That’s too bad. Because the world would be a lot better for a lot of people right now if Max had died instead of Sally.”
A darkened service station drifts past on the right.
“We’re going to be at the barn soon,” I tell her. “Tell me this: How did Sally compile such a damning data cache in only a few months? I mean, she was a housewife, not a private detective.”
Nadine pops my chest with a stinging blow.
“Damn! That hurt.”
“I should have smacked you in the face. Sally was sharp as a razor, and one of my best customers. Since 1865, the Poker Club has rotated meetings between the members’ houses. The Mathesons’ hacienda was better suited to a big group than most houses, so they hosted more than their share of meetings. As a first step, Sally started recording them. The last few months have been especially busy because of the paper mill. In no time she had enough damaging information to put most of the members behind bars. And that was before she cracked Max’s password and started copying his emails. She even installed a keystroke recording program.”
I laugh in amazement. “If Max had known that, he’d have died of a stroke weeks ago.”
“Or murdered Sally,” Nadine says in a cold voice.
“True. Look, I know you said Sally was sharp, but all this sounds pretty high-tech. Are you sure she didn’t have the help of a tech-savvy young attorney?”
Nadine nods. “Positive. Sally had read mysteries and true crime for fifty years. She also watched a lot of TV. That may sound quaint to you, but while her friends were watching Downton Abbey, she was bingeing on The Wire and The Americans. It was actually The Americans that inspired her plan.”
“How so?”
“Do you know the show? It’s a Cold War setting. And one episode involved the so-called Dead Hand system. Are you familiar with that?”
“I did a paper on it when I was at UVA. It’s a system that fires nuclear missiles even after your country has been destroyed. It’s put in place to deter a first strike by the other side. Even if your whole population has been wiped out, the Dead Hand fires every missile you have left, destroying the ‘victorious’ opponent.”
This earns me a smile from teacher. “Sally adapted that doctrine to marital warfare.”