The Death of an Ambitious Woman by Ross Barbara

Author:Ross, Barbara [Ross, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomson Gale
Published: 2010-09-08T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

* * *

Ruth pulled up behind a gray van with “Mo’s Cleaning Services,” stenciled on its sides. All the windows of the Kendall house were open and the mournful drone of a heavy-duty vacuum cleaner emanated from inside. Ruth sighed. This was not the ritual spring cleaning that had been going on at Anna Abbott’s—cleaning that affirmed the certainty of the seasons and the continuity of life. This cleaning was all about death—hasty preparation for Tracey Kendall’s funeral.

Ruth had to bang and hallo at the front door for some time to be heard over the din. Hannah Whiteside finally appeared, looking exhausted and uneasy. “Stephen’s in his studio.” She pointed down the lawn.

At the studio, Susan Gleason opened the door. Her face was flushed, her mouth set in a grim line. “Do you really have to bother him?” she asked in a more clipped version of her cool tones. “He just got back to work early this morning.” Ruth assured her that she did and stepped into the huge studio space.

The dinosaurs loomed in front of her. Susan Gleason was right, Ruth reflected. The first impression was the most powerful. Not that the second look was uninteresting. Ruth stood for a moment and enjoyed the interplay of their facial expressions and body language.

A network of steel pipes, the beginnings of a new sculpture, rose from a plywood stand near the center of the room. Ruth couldn’t tell what it would be. A rolling scaffold stood beside it. Ruth looked up and noticed the elaborate system of ropes and pulleys hanging from the ceiling three stories above. So this was how a single man could move the heavy materials.

Ruth followed Susan Gleason through the maze of sculptures to the office at the back of the converted cottage. The space had been created from a one-story shed. It was small relative to the soaring studio space, but artfully arranged. Despite the presence of several large pieces—a desk, drawing table, two computer workstations and filing cabinets of several sizes—the room wasn’t crowded or disorganized.

Stephen Kendall stood up from his computer as they approached. “Chief,” he said, “what brings you here?” Susan Gleason stood off to the side of the room. There was tension in the air, and Ruth was sure she and Kendall had been arguing.

“We’re still working on the matter of your wife’s death. We have more questions.”

Stephen turned to Susan. “Give us a minute, okay?”

The air crackled with tension. Susan looked like she was about to protest, but then seemed to think better of it and began noisily gathering her things from in front of the second computer. Ruth noticed that Susan carefully shut down the computer itself, erasing from the screen something that seemed very reminiscent of the program Tracey Kendall had used to manage her schedule.

“I didn’t think we would see you again,” Gleason addressed Ruth. “Your district attorney assured me that your investigation was routine and you wouldn’t be bothering Stephen anymore. He is a very busy man.

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