J is for Judgment (Kinsey Millhone 10)

“That’s when we heard, too. Well, that’s not quite accurate. Last night Lena Irwin called my sister, Pam, and we had an instant meeting. Lena was sure you were related. Both my sisters were panting to drive down to meet you, but we finally decided it’d be too confusing for you. Besides, Tasha really had to get back to San Francisco, and Pamela’s so pregnant she’s about to pop.”

Three girl cousins suddenly. That was a bit much. I shifted the subject. “How do you know Lena?’

Liza waved dismissively, a gesture I’d used a hundred times myself. “Her family’s up in Lompoc. The minute she said she’d met you, we knew we had to come down. We haven’t said a word to Grand, but I know she’ll want to meet you.”

“Grand?”

“Oh, sorry. That’s our grandmother, Cornelia. Her maiden name was LaGrand, and we’ve always just shortened it. Everybody calls her Grand. It’s been her nickname since childhood.”

“How much does she know about me?”

“Not that much, really. We knew your name, of course, but we really weren’t sure where you’d ended up. The whole family scandal was so ridiculous. I don’t mean at the time. Good heavens, from what I’ve been told, it split the sisters down the middle. Am I interrupting your work? I should have asked before.”

“Not at all,” I said with a quick look at my watch. I had three hours before my lunch appointment. “Alison told me she’d hold the calls, but I couldn’t think what could be so important. Tell me about the sisters.”

“There were five of them altogether. I guess they had a brother, but he died in infancy. They were completely divided by the breach between Grand and Aunt Rita. You really never heard the story?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m sitting here wondering if you really have the right person.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Your mother was a Kinsey. Rita Cynthia, right? Her sister’s name was Virginia. We called her Aunt Gin, or Gin Gin sometimes.”

“So did I,” I said faintly. I’d always thought of it as my pet name for her, one that I invented.

Liza went on. “I didn’t know her that well because of the estrangement between those two and Grand, who’ll be eighty-eight this year and sharp as a tack. I mean, she’s virtually blind and her health’s not that good, but she’s great for her age. I’m not sure the two of them ever spoke to Grand again, but Aunt Gin would come back to visit and all the sisters would converge. The big horror was that somehow Grand would get wind of it, but I don’t think she ever did. Anyway, our mother’s name is Susanna. She’s the baby in the family. Do you mind if I sit?”

“I’m sorry. Please do. You want coffee? I can get us some.”

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m just sorry to barge in and bury you under all this. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Your mother was the oldest and mine’s the youngest. There are only two surviving—my mother, Susanna…she’s fifty-eight. And then the sister one up from her, Maura, who’s sixty-one. Sarah died about five years ago. God, I’m sorry to spring all this on you. We just assumed you knew.”

“What about Burton…Grandfather Kinsey?”

“He’s gone, too. He only died a year ago, but of course he’d been sick for years.” She said it like I should have known the nature of his illness.

I let that pass. I didn’t want to focus on the fine points when I was still struggling with the overall picture. “How many cousins?”

“Well, there’re the three of us, and Maura has two daughters, Delia and Eleanor. Sarah had four girls.”

“And you’re all up in Lompoc?”

“Not quite,” she said. “Three of Sarah’s four are on the East Coast. One’s married, two in college, and I don’t know what the other one’s doing. She’s sort of the black sheep of the family. Maura’s kids are both in Lompoc. In fact, Maura and Mom live within five blocks of each other. Part of Grand’s master plan.” She laughed and I could see that we had the same teeth, very white and square. “We better do this in small doses or you’ll die of the shock.”

“I’m close to that as it is.”

She laughed again. Something about this woman was getting on my nerves. She was having way too much fun, and I wasn’t having any. I was trying to assimilate the information, trying to cope with its significance, trying to be polite and make all the right noises. But I felt foolish, in truth, and her breezy, presumptive manner wasn’t helping much. I shifted on my chair and raised my hand like a kid in a classroom. “Could I ask you to stop and go back to the beginning?”