S Is for Silence Read Free

time are the fireworks?”
    Violet reapplied her lipstick and then rubbed her lips together to even out the color. She recapped the tube. “Whenever it gets dark. I’m guessing nine,” she said. She leaned forward, blotted her lipstick with a tissue, and then used an index finger to clean a line of color from her teeth.
    “Are you and Foley coming home right afterward?”
    “Nah, we’ll probably stop by the Moon.”
    Liza wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to ask. It was always like that. They’d get home at 2:00 A.M. Liza, dazed and groggy, would collect her four dollars and then walk home through the dark.
    Violet took the bulk of her hair, twisted it, and held it high on her head, showing the effect. “What do you think? Up or down? It’s still hotter than blue blazes.”
    “Down’s better.”
    Violet smiled. “Vanity over comfort. Glad I taught you something.” She dropped her hair, shaking it out so the weight of it went swinging across her back.
    That was the sequence Liza remembered—beginning, middle, and end. It was like a short loop of film that ran over and over. Daisy reading her comic book, Violet naked, and then being zipped into the polka-dot sundress. Violet lifting her bright red hair and then shaking it out. The thought of Ty Eddings was wedged in there somewhere because of what happened later. The only other brief moment that stayed with her was a time jump of maybe twenty minutes. Liza was in the cramped, not-quite-clean bathroom with its moldy-smelling towels. Daisy, her fine blond hair caught up in a barrette, was taking her bath. She was sitting in a cloud of bubbles, scooping them up and draping them across her shoulders like a fine fur coat. Once Liza had Daisy bathed and in her baby doll pajamas, she’d give her the pill Violet left for her whenever she went out.
    The air in the bathroom was damp and warm, and smelled like the pine-scented bubble bath Liza had squirted into the rush of running water. Liza was sitting on the toilet with the lid down, watching to make sure Daisy didn’t do something dumb, like drown or get soap in her eyes. Liza was already bored because babysitting was tedious once Violet left the house. She only did it because Violet asked, and who could turn her down? The Sullivans didn’t have a television set. The Cramers were the only family in town who owned one. Liza and Kathy watched TV almost every afternoon, though lately Kathy had been sulky, in part because of Ty and in part because of Violet. If Kathy had her way, she and Liza would spend every waking minute together. Kathy had been fun at first, but now Liza felt like she was suffocating.
    As Liza leaned over and swished a hand in the bathwater, Violet opened the door and stuck her head in, holding Baby in her arms. The dog yapped at them, bright-eyed and happy in a braggy sort of way. Violet said, “Hey, Lies, I’m off. See you kids later.”
    Violet liked to call her “Lies,” a shortened form of “Liza” but spelled differently, or at least as Liza pictured it.
    Daisy tilted her face up, puckering her lips. “Kiss!”
    Violet said, “Kiss, kiss from here, Honeybunch. This lipstick’s fresh and Mama doesn’t want it messed up. You be good now and do everything Liza says.”
    Violet blew Daisy a kiss. Daisy pretended to catch it and then blew it back, her eyes shining at the sight of her mother, who was looking radiant. Liza waved, and as the door closed, a waft of violet cologne entered the room on a wisp of chill air.

2
    The puzzle of Violet Sullivan was dumped in my lap via a phone call from a woman named Tannie Ottweiler, whom I’d met through my friend Lieutenant Dolan, the homicide detective I’d worked with the previous spring. My name is Kinsey Millhone. I’m a licensed private investigator, typically working twelve to fifteen cases that range in nature from background checks to insurance fraud to erring spouses in the midst of acrimonious divorces. I’d enjoyed working with Dolan