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Page 84“Did Ned know she talked about leaving him?”
“If he did, Marcella’s the one who told him. She was crazy about Ned. He played up to her. He was downright flirtatious, for lack of a better word. I could see what he was doing, but Marcella would brook no criticism, and it wasn’t my place to interfere.”
“Just a stab in the dark here, but didn’t Lenore get pregnant because of the Church’s stance on birth control?”
“She got pregnant because she was naive and inexperienced. Ned told her it wasn’t that easy. I’m sure he’d have said anything to get what he wanted from her. By the time I set her straight, it was too late.”
“What about Ned? Was he unhappy in the marriage as well?”
“If so, I’m the last person he would have told.”
“Do you believe he killed her?”
“You asked me that once.”
“I’m just wondering if he had reason to get rid of her.”
“I don’t know why a man like that does anything. I said the same thing to Mr. Wolinsky. All I’m offering is my opinion.”
“Fair enough. Let’s put it another way. Did other people believe he killed her?”
“Are Lenore’s parents still alive?”
“Oh my stars, no. Marcella died of cancer in 1976; her husband a year later of a heart attack.”
“So there’s no family left?”
“Two sisters, but they both married and moved away. This was some time after she died. The family was devastated. I don’t know where either girl ended up. Father Xavier might know.”
I thought about the two photographs I’d found. “I came across a snapshot of Lenore the day she was confirmed. She must have been twelve or thirteen.”
“Eleven and a half. I was there that day. She was a lovely child and a lovely young woman.”
“Why did she dye her hair?”
“Who?”
“Lenore. In the photograph of her with April, I was struck by how unhappy she looked. She’d dyed her hair a bleached blond that made her look hard. I wondered if the change was a sign of her illness.”
Clara looked at me in confusion. “Lennie never dyed her hair. She was always a brunette.”
“I don’t think so. There must be some mistake.”
I reached down and removed the photograph of Lenore and April in the red leather frame and passed it across the table to her.
She barely glanced at it. “That’s not Lennie.”
“Who is it then?”
“Ned and his mother, Frankie,” she said. “That photograph was taken two days before she left.”
I took another look. “You’re telling me that’s a boy? I assumed the child was April.”
“She was the spitting image of Ned at the same age, but that’s not her. It’s him.”
“Doesn’t that look like a little girl to you?”
“Of course. Even though the boy was almost four, Frankie refused to have his hair cut. It wasn’t until she left that his daddy took him to a barbershop and had it all shaved off. Poor little boy cried like his heart would break.”
I took one more look, still only half convinced, and then returned the photograph to the pouch. “Is there anyone still around who was with the police department back then? Because I’d love to talk to someone who actually remembers Lenore’s death.”
“Did Pete intend to talk to anyone other than you and Lenore’s priest?”
“Father Xavier’s the only one I know about.”
“I’d like to talk to him myself. It was my primary reason for driving up.”
“He’ll be at the rectory. Do you know where that is?”
“I passed it earlier when I was touring the town,” I said. “Would it be all right with you if I mentioned our conversation?”
“You don’t need my permission. I keep no secrets from him. He still hears my confession every week, though I must say my sins are so boring, he falls asleep half the time.”
“You have my card,” I said. “If you think of anything else, would you give me a call? You’re welcome to make it collect.”