I returned the material to the envelope. When I started to slide it back to Virden, he said, “No, you keep it. Give it to Roxanne when you find her.”
“Why not just deliver it yourself?”
“I don’t like dealing directly with my ex-wives. You know how it is.”
No, I didn’t. But I said, “Well, we can make the delivery if she’s living in Northern California, but it’ll cost you extra.”
“I don’t care about that. I’d just have to hire somebody else to do it.”
Right—with Judith LoPresti’s money, no doubt. Not that it was any of my business who paid his bills. “Is McManus your ex-wife’s maiden name?”
“Yes. She took it back after the divorce.”
“What does the middle initial stand for?”
“Lorraine.”
“Roxanne Lorraine McManus.” I made a note on the pad I use for client interviews. “You said the last time you saw her was eight years ago?”
“That’s right.”
“Where?”
“In San Jose, right after the divorce.”
“The Diocese letter is addressed to her in Blodgett.”
“Her hometown. She moved back there.”
“But she’s not there now.”
“No. I checked and my lawyer checked. She moved away again about seven years ago and nobody’s heard from her since.”
“Then where did the Diocese get the address?”
“It’s her aunt Alma’s. I gave it to them—they had to have one for the form.”
“But the aunt doesn’t have any idea where Roxanne is?”
“No idea. Complete silence since she sold her pet shop and left Blodgett again.”
“Does the aunt know why she moved?”
“Told Alma she was going into business with a friend.”
“Friend’s name?”
“Didn’t say, or if she did, Alma forgot it. Somebody she’d just met.”
“Male or female?”
“Couldn’t remember that, either. Alma’s memory’s not what it used to be.” Virden chuckled wryly to himself. “But she’s still a crusty old girl, cusses like a teenager. She had a few choice words for Roxie.”
“Why?”
“Pissed because of all the years of silence. Thought Roxie cared more than to blow her off that way.”
“Could she remember what kind of business deal it was?”
“No. But it probably had something to do with animals. Roxie owned the pet shop when I met her.” Virden cast his eyes upward. “The Warm and Fuzzy Shop, she called it. Terminal goddamn cute.”
“Where is Blodgett exactly? I’ve never heard of it.”
“No reason you should have. It’s a nowhere little town up near the Oregon border.”
“Is that where you were living while you were married to her?”
“God, no,” Virden said. “It’s where she lived when we met. I was a salesman working the Highway Five corridor in those days, on the road most of the time. She was eating alone in a restaurant I stopped at one night, we struck up a conversation, hit it off, and the next thing I knew we were married. But there was no way I was going to live in a craphole like Blodgett. Roxie leased her cute little shop—she wouldn’t sell it back then—and I moved her into my apartment in San Jose.”
“How long did the marriage last?”
“Two years. Then I met Elaine, my second wife, and that was the end of Roxie.”
The end of Roxie. Some turn of phrase.
“She have any other living relatives?” I asked.
“No. Both parents were dead before we were married, no brothers or sisters.”
“What else can you tell me about her? Hobbies, special interests?”
“Animals, like I said. Always yapping at me about getting a dog or a cat or some damn thing. I didn’t want any part of that, so she started volunteering at one of the animal shelters. Spent more time there than she did at home with me.”
I didn’t blame her.
“Any other interests?”
“None that’ll help you find her.” Virden punctuated the sentence with a leer.
“Would you happen to have a photograph of her?”
“Sure. I figured you might need one.” He produced it from the inside pocket of his suit coat. “It’s more than eight years old,” he said as he handed it over. “I haven’t changed much since, but she might’ve. You know how it is with women as they get older.”
Keep it up, Virden, I thought. One or two more glimpses into what goes on inside that head of yours and I’ll toss you right out of here. I don’t have to like the agency’s clients, but on the other hand, we don’t need business badly enough so I have to put up with greedy self-centered sexists who insist on red-flagging their shortcomings.