The Girl in the Green Raincoat_ A Novel - Laura Lippman [16]
“Yes, it’s . . .” She flipped through the pages she had been collecting. “. . . Massinger.”
A queer look crossed Lenhardt’s face. “Are you sure?”
“It’s on her marriage certificate.”
“Because that was Danielle’s last name, too.”
Danielle Messinger had died—accidentally, according to the autopsy—after tripping over her cat. Her sister, Carole, twenty at the time, was in her junior year at Salisbury State. In fact, it was Carole’s panicky call that had prompted a neighbor to check on Danielle, who had not answered her phone on Easter Sunday. Danielle had been dead for several days, presumably falling on Good Friday, with no chance of resurrection.
Why hadn’t her boss—and boyfriend—been similarly worried? She had the four-day weekend off, Don Epstein told police. Danielle said she had plans. No, he didn’t know what they were. She had been kind of secretive lately, moody and distracted. Truth was, they had a fight Wednesday night and she had been giving him the silent treatment. He didn’t attend the funeral, but then—there was no funeral to attend. Danielle Messinger’s sister had returned to Severna Park, taken charge of her sister’s remains and had her cremated.
That was as much as Lenhardt could tell Tess, after she showed him the photo of Carole with Don Epstein and his second wife, toasting them at their wedding.
“Did she know him then?” Tess asked. “I mean back then, when her sister died.”
“Knew of him, as I recall, but mainly in the context of her sister’s boss. She was in college when they started dating. She did say they were engaged, which was news to me. And to Epstein, who denied it, and the fact was, there was no ring on her finger, no proof. That said, I always thought Epstein was keen to marry Danielle, if only for spousal immunity. She knew something. She had agreed to meet with me the following week.”
Dusk had fallen by now, the dogs and their walkers had come and gone. Tess had encouraged Lenhardt to pour himself a drink, and tried not to be too envious of the Jameson to which he helped himself. She didn’t even like Jameson, but the fact that she couldn’t have it made it all too desirable.
“Okay, but—” The door opened. Tess had to leave it unlocked when she expected visitors, not to mention the delivery of her meals. It was her supper, brought tonight by Crow’s acolyte, Lloyd Jupiter. Once a street kid, all jangly nerves and bravado, he had found a vocation and sense of direction at Crow’s alma mater, the Maryland Institute College of Art, where he was studying film on scholarship. He also was dating a stunningly beautiful Chinese girl, one adopted at age two and raised by two mommies. All of this—an Asian girl, her gay parents, school—represented so much growth for Lloyd that Tess was almost wistful for the brash, skeptical teenager he had been not that long ago. It was a relief of sorts to see the face he made as he entered with the carryout from Dukem, the Ethiopian restaurant. Lloyd remained closed off to all culinary experiences outside of cheeseburgers, chicken boxes, and pizza.
“You could not pay me to eat this—” He stopped short when he saw Lenhardt. “Why is there a police here? Did you find that crazy dog’s owner?”
Lloyd, also picking up the slack in the dog-walking department, had been bitten by Dempsey and now wanted nothing to do with him. He took Esskay and Miata out happily, but refused to walk Dempsey.
“Sergeant Harold Lenhardt. He is a cop, but he’s also a miracle worker with dogs. Look how calm Dempsey is.”
Dempsey, nestled against the mountain that was Tess’s belly, bared his teeth at Lloyd and growled.
“Dog’s a flat-out racist,” Lloyd said.
“He hates everyone,” Tess points out.
“Hates everyone. Bit me.”
Lloyd began to arrange the food on Tess’s bed tray, and she was careful to mask her amazement. Gushing over Lloyd’s transformation tended to make him revert to his most thuggish, surly behavior. Left alone, without comment, he increasingly did the right thing in the right way. She had no idea why a curriculum of watching films and attempting to make them would