“I have about half an hour between now and my next appointment,” she conceded. “I suppose I could meet you for coffee. Do you know where the McDonald’s is on Old Glenn Highway?”
I personally had no idea, but I was pretty sure Twink would be able to find it.
“I’m on the way,” I said.
“How will I know you?”
“Just look for a bright yellow vintage Travelall,” I told her. “I’ll be the guy climbing out of that.”
We arrived minutes later. Entering the restaurant, I saw a woman waving in my direction from the far side of the room. I nodded at her, but I stopped off at the counter long enough to pick up my own cup of coffee. I had swilled enough coffee at Zig’s Place that I really didn’t need any more caffeine right then, but I wanted this conversation to seem more like a casual visit than an interrogation, and a steaming paper cup of coffee functioned as a suitable prop.
When I got to Betsy’s table, I put my cup down and then presented her with both a look at my ID and a business card before taking the opposite seat. I noticed that Betsy Norman, Penny Olmstead, and Shelley Adams were all of an age, but it occurred to me that of the three Shelley was the only one whose good looks were being helped along by professional augmentation.
“It says here you’re from Seattle,” Betsy said, frowning at my card.
That’s another prop, by the way. Mel and I still have the condo in Seattle, and from a business standpoint using Seattle as a base of operations has more cachet to it than Bellingham. Also, people know where it is.
“What’s this all about?” she added.
“I was friends with Danitza’s son’s father,” I replied.
“Back before Chris disappeared into the woodwork, you mean?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “That was an unfortunate situation all the way around.”
Betsy nodded in agreement.
“So I’m working on behalf of Danitza and her son. She’s considering attempting to reconcile with her father, and I’m trying to smooth the way.”
“That would be wonderful,” Betsy said. “The rift with her daughter broke Eileen’s heart, but Roger was absolutely adamant about it, and Eileen went with the flow.”
“I understand that growing up you were friends with both Eileen Phillips and Shelley Hollander?” I asked.
Betsy nodded. “Shelley and I go way back,” she said. “I knew who Eileen was, of course, because I was also friends with her younger sister, Penny, but I didn’t really get acquainted with her until I met her as a patient when she started showing up at the hospital for chemo. She was such a fighter as far as the cancer was concerned, and it surprised me that she didn’t go to war with her husband about burying the hatchet with their daughter. I sure as hell would have.”
“You knew Roger had forbidden Danitza to visit her mother in the hospital?”
Betsy nodded. “Yes, everyone at the hospital was aware of that, and we all went along with it. Roger was in the state legislature at the time. He was a big deal statewide, not just here in Homer, and what he said went. Had Danitza tried to visit, she wouldn’t have been allowed to enter her mother’s room.”
“But Shelley was.”
“Of course she was,” Betsy said. “She and her husband and Roger and Eileen had all been great friends—up until Jack died. After he was gone, Shelley was lost. I think being there for Eileen and Roger was one way she helped herself deal with losing Jack. She was a constant visitor in Eileen’s room, especially when the legislature was in session and Roger was off in Juneau. During that last round of chemo, when Eileen was so sick, Shelley was at the hospital every single day. Eileen considered her a godsend, and so did I.”
“Were you surprised that Roger and Shelley married so soon after Eileen died?” I asked.
Betsy shook her head. “Not really,” she answered. “Widows and widowers who come from happy marriages tend to remarry sooner than those whose marital lives were troubled. Besides, the two of them had a lot in common—not only that long history of the four of them being friends together but also having lived through the devastating loss of a beloved spouse.”
Betsy’s response made me think that even now she still had no inkling that her good friend Shelley and Roger Adams had been involved in an affair long before either one of their spouses was out of the picture.
“So as far as you knew, Jack and Shelley had a solid marriage?”
Betsy gave a small shrug. “For the most part,” she said finally. “Jack was a little rough around the edges, and there was a big age difference. He was a homebody, and she was more of a good-time girl. He kept her reined in.”