I told Noel that I want to knock out a first draft in a month. I’m flying to London tomorrow. I have a flat in Chelsea that I use when I need to get away. Without any interruptions, I know I can produce something significant in that period of time. Noel promised that he’d set the wheels in motion to rush the book into print. I also explained that, before I leave the country, I intend to put in motion a plan to protect myself from Constance and all her hired henchmen. She may track me to London, but this will tie her hands. She won’t be able to touch me. It’s something she’d never expect, but by tomorrow morning she’s going to realize I mean business. Noel agreed. It’s perfect, and it will only heighten interest in the forthcoming book I just have one more appointment to make before I get on that plane tomorrow. It’s risky, but I’m going to be on my guard. My only regret is that I won’t have a chance to say goodbye to Bram. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. Perhaps we’ll meet again one day. It’s a thought I choose to hold on to.

  Now on to the interview with Beverly Custerson.

  After I finished my discussion with Paul at Loring Park, I called to get my voice mail at the Maxfield. I was hoping to hear from Phillip Rapson. It was the only number he hadfor me, and I’ve been waiting for his call. Thankfully, he was a man of his word. He’d left a message saying that Constance s best friend, one Beverly Custerson, was still living in town. She and Tom, her husband, had divorced many years ago. Phillip gave me her number and I, of course, called immediately. It turns out that she lives just a few blocks from the Lyme House, the restaurant where I’d met with Oscar Boland last Saturday night. Since I knew the area and wouldn t need to consult a map, I asked if I could come over right away. She said to give her an hour. So I drove to the location in south Minneapolis and sat in my car typing up the transcription from the interview with Paul.

  Finally, at two-thirty, Beverly met me at the door of her home, a modest colonial on Penn Avenue. She was a small woman, dressed in dark slacks and a red cotton blouse. Her gray hair was clipped short. She seemed friendly, but her general demeanor was somewhat dour. (She reminded me of my aunt May, though without my aunt s penchant for vodka and lemon. May was never without a glass in her hand.) After introducing me to her two cats, Beverly ushered me into a study off the living room. She’d already prepared some coffee and was so insistent that I try one of her homemade bars that I finally gave up and ate one just to keep her happy. (If I’m going to waste calories, it wouldn’t be on a Pumpkin Raisin Delight.)

  INTERVIEW: BEVERLY CUSTERSON, MINNEAPOLIS, FRIDAY MAY 14

  M: When did you first meet Constance Buckridge?

  Beverly: Back then I knew her as Connie Jadek She didn’t marry Wayne Buckridge until, oh, let me see, about ‘64. We first met in ‘54 when she came to live with her brother, Arthur. My husband and I had just married the year before. We were both in our early twenties, struggling to make ends meet. You know how it is. But Connie, she was a really sad case back then. Sixteen and pregnant by some boyfriend back home in Wisconsin. Her parents kicked her out as soon as they found out about the baby. Connie and the boyfriend tried to live together for about a month, but it didn’t work He took off and left her to deal with the pregnancy alone. She had no other choice but to come to Minneapolis. Arthur was a goodfour or five years older, just finishing his degree at the U. He was a nice young man, lived across the hall from us. Quiet but friendly. The intellectual type, if you know what I mean. We all lived in an apartment building on 31st and Aldrich. The Peoria, old but nice, across from a park You could tell that sister and brother were close, but the pregnancy was a surprise — and a little hard to take — even for Arthur. Somehow he managed to pay for little Nathan’s birth. Connie didn’t have a dime. Arthur was working nearly full-time and going to school, so Connie was a complication he didn’t need, but he was a good-hearted guy. Family was important to him. I always respected him for that.

  M: I understand that you and Connie became bestfriends.

  Beverly: Yes, we were as close as sisters for over ten years. But shortly after she married Wayne Buckridge, Tom, my husband, was transferred to Thief River Falls up near the Canadian border. After living in a big city all my life, it felt like moving to Siberia, but we managed. I was never happy there, but I stayed until our divorce in ‘87. I kept in contact with Connie for a while by letter and occasionally by phone, but time and distance have a way of changing relationships. And then, once Connie started doing her TV show, she didn’t even have time to write anymore. We just drifted apart. All we ve done for the last twenty-five years is exchange Christmas cards. But I will say this. After such a bad start, she’s certainly made a success of her life. I’m proud of her. She was always… I’m not sure how to say this. She did things her own way, no matter what other people thought. Sometimes she made up her own rules, but she was never cruel or mean. She had a big heart.

  M: You were considerably older than Connie. What drew you together?

  Beverly: Well, several months after she moved into Arthur’s apartment, Ifound out I was pregnant with my first child. The fact that we were both expecting at the same time created an instant bond. Once Connie realized that Arthur would take care of her, she couldn’t have been happier. She really wanted the baby. I think her childhood had been pretty rocky. She didn’t talk about it much, but I could tell there hadn’t been a lot of love. She thought Nathan would bring something she’d missed to her life. And I really believe he did.

  M: You said that Connie and Arthur were close. Did anything about their relationship seem odd?

  Beverly: (Hesitates) No, not really. What exactly do you mean?

  M: You tell me.

  Beverly: Well, they fought some. But that s only natural.

  M: Over what?

  Beverly: Money, mostly. They lived in an efficiency apartment. That couldn’t have been easy. Connie got a part-time job as a checkout girl at a grocery a few weeks after she arrived, but she had to quit in her eighth month. All that standing was making her feet swell. Her doctor said she needed to keep them up as much as possible. But, really, most of the time they both seemed pretty content. Arthur graduated in the spring of ‘54 and was immediately offered a terrific job at a big company in town. That was right before Nathan was born, so money problems eased a bit. They even moved into a one-bedroom in July. Nathan was one month old. I gave birth to Janet in August and we had a big party when I got home from the hospital. Even back then Connie loved to cook.

  M: Were Arthur and Connie affectionate with each other?

  Beverly: I suppose. But Arthur way a reticent kind of man, not physically demonstrative. When I’d hug him, he always seemed kind of stiff. Not that there s anything wrong with that.

  M: I understand that Arthur disappearedfrom Connie s life in the late Fifties.

  Beverly: (Shakes her head) It way a terribly traumatic time for Connie. Something just seemed to snap inside Arthur. He lost his sense of balance. Sometimes he’d be incredibly talkative but say the oddest things, and at other times he wouldn’t talk at all. After a while we started seeing him less and less. Connie tried to cover, but I know he wasn’t coming home at night. And then when he way fired from his position at General Mills, she was beside herself with worry. Arthur way her only means ofsupport. She had a toddler to care for, and now her brother wasn’t around to provide for them. Not to mention the fact that she was scared to death about the state of Arthur’s mental health. When he disappeared, she nearly had a breakdown herself trying to find him. But she never did. Not until years later.

  M: Connie told her family — her children, her husband — and the house staff that Arthur had been a secret agent for the government and that s why he couldn’t talk about where he’d been or what he’d done for the last fifteen years. Did you know she’d lied about that?

  Beverly: (Smiles) Sure, I knew. She wrote me all about it. She had to make up some kind of cover story. She didn’t think Wayne would tolerate her brother’s presence if he knew he’d had mental problems. After she married Wayne, she had plenty of money to hire people to look for Arthur. Finally, in ‘73, someone found him. Connie checked her brother into a hospital right away. The doctors put him on some drugs, even tried some experimental vitamin therapies, and slowly he seemed to come out of his fog. Connie s love and devotion was a big part of that. I know she would have done just about anything to help him recover. After all, she owed him so much. And, off the record, I think she felt a little guilty, like maybe if she hadn’t created so much stress in his life, he might never have gotten sick in the first place.

  M: After Arthur disappeared, did Connie date?

  Beverly: Never. She didn’t have time.

  M: How did she survivefinancially?

  Beverly: Well, after she accepted that Arthur was gone for good, she had a series of part-time jobs. I tried to help her out by baby-sitting Nathan. With the money Arthur had saved in the bank, she was okay for about a year. But eventually she didn’t have enough to pay for rent and food and clothes and medicine. She was desperate. I couldn’t just stand by and watch. That’s when I talked to Tom. I insisted that she move in with us. Tom was hesitant at first, but he eventually gave in. We had a two-bedroom and it worked out okay.

  M: What year was that?

  Beverly: Let s see. I was pregnant with our second child, so that would make it the winter of ‘59. She lived with us until she went to work for Wayne and Pepper Buckridge about a year and a half later. She paid us what she could, which was never much, but she did most of the cooking and cleaning, and even some baby-sitting for me. She had part-time jobs during the day, but when Nathan was sick or I couldn’t take care of him after school, she’d have to come home. When that happened too often, she’d get sacked. It wasn’t an easy time for single mothers. There wasn’t the kind of help there is today.

  M: Did she like working for the Buckridges?

  Beverly: Yes, I think she did. She especially appreciated the fact that she and Nathan lived on the premises, and when her son got home from school, she was there. Nathan was seven when they moved in. A really nice kid. Connie didn’t mind the hard work. You have to understand, she always had this unshakable sense that she was going to make something of herself one day. I don’t think she knew what that meant exactly, but she believed she’d have money, so much that she’d never have to worry about it again. I think the fame part came as a surprise. Don’t ask me where she got the notion, but it would come up every now and then. I know it kept her going during the worst times. The hardest part about living with the Buckridges was the way Nathan was treated. Pepper Buckridge let him play with her son at first, but then she changed her mind. Nathan was forbidden to be in the main part of the house. After school, he could play outside at a park or go next door and play with the little girl who lived there. I believe her name was Andrea. They were almost the same age and really hit it off. I think she was his only real friend for many years, until she moved away. But if he was in the house, he had to be up in the room he shared with his mother. Connie didn’t have the money to buy a TV, but she did get him a radio. But, honestly, it wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’tfeed the sunfish off the dock, or play on the beach in front ofthe house, or watch the TV in the family room, or play with Paul; it was the fact that he was treated like a second-class citizen that really got to Connie. I imagine it got to Nathan, too. He was always an exceptionally bright child.

  M: So, Constance must have hated Pepper Buckridge.

  Beverly: Hate might be too strong a word, but yes, something like that.

  M: Nathan, too?

  Beverly: I never heard him say a word against Pepper, but I’m sure her rules hurt.

  M: What did Constance think of Wayne Buckridge?

  Beverly: A tfirst I think she liked him. He seemed so serious to her that she’d joke with him, not often but every now and then. Eventually he started to respond. He even joked back Connie thought they were developing a friendship. (Seems hesitant)

  M: But later?

  Beverly: Well, after she’d worked there about a year, Wayne made a couple ofpasses at her. She rejected them, of course, but he didn’t stop.

  M: How do you know all this?

  Beverly: Oh, Connie and I got together every Thursday. It was her day off. We’d have lunch or go for a walk Sometimes she’d come over to the house. Tom and I’d bought a small rambler in Richfield by then. Or we’d go shopping. But we al ways had these long conversations. Connie needed someone to confide in, someone she could trust, especially after Wayne started pressuring her to have sex with him.

  M: Are you saying that Connie had no interest in him at all?

  Beverly: Lord, no. He was a goodfifteen years older. I mean, she liked him okay, but the idea of having sex with him repulsed her.

  M: Really? Other people I’ve talked to have said that it was the other way around. Connie tried to seduce Wayne.

  Beverly: That’s absolute hogwash. Believe me, I know. I was even there once when Wayne came home. It was after Connie had taken the job as their cook. We were in the kitchen talking and Wayne walked in the back door. He nodded to me, made no effort to introduce himself, and then, in my presence, he came up behind Connie and pinched her in the… well, lower regions. I was appalled. So was Connie, though she just moved away. But she blushed a deep red and tried to ignore it. She told me later that she was terrified that she’d lose her job if she didn’t put out, so to speak Come to think of it, here’s an even more telling situation I witnessed. Once, when she was over at my house for lunch, we looked out the front window and there was Wayne sitting in his car, staring at the front door. That’s when Connie admitted to me that he d been following her around town for months. I mean, the man was obsessed, and that’s the truth. Connie wanted nothing to do with him. As an employee, she had to be friendly, and like most women she second-guessed herself. She wondered if she’d done something to give him the wrong impression, the idea that she was “interested.” But the fact was, she wasn’t, and yet she had to deal with him every day and be pleasant. As I said, she liked him, okay, even felt a little sorry for him. He and his wife kept separate bedrooms. He ate most of his meals alone in the dining room. Little Paul was almost always asleep by the time he got home from work. From what Connie said, Pepper was a total hypochondriac. Or so everyone thought.

  M: Are you suggesting that wasn’t true?

  Beverly: (Hesitates again) I’m not sure how much I should say. (Puts a hand over her mouth)

  M: About what?

  Beverly: (Seems uncomfortable) I wouldn’t want this to appear in a book. You have to understand, it all happened so long ago. Connie’s obviously made peace with what happened. I don’t have the right to open up old wounds.

  M: Perhaps they ‘re not so old. Would it surprise you to learn that Paul Buckridge believes his mother was poisoned? He’s thinking of having her body exhumed.

  Beverly: (Appears shocked) But he mustn’t do that.

  M: Why not? It may be the only way to prove how she really died

  Beverly: He should leave well enough alone!

  M: But if Connie actually poisoned her, if Pepper was murdered, he deserves —

  Beverly: Connie? Excuse me, but what are you saying? Connie had nothing to do with Pepper’s death. It was Wayne Buckridge who poisoned his wife. He’d been feeding her small amounts of antifreeze for months. I told you, he was obsessed with Connie. He wanted her at any cost, so he slipped the poison into Pepper’s Coke. She had a lot of stomach problems and liked to drink things that were fizzy. Little did she know that the fizzy liquid was causing the stomach problems, the weight loss — and eventually would kill her.

  M: Did Connie know about the poisoning before thefact?

  Beverly: She had no idea. She just thought Pepper was sick and getting sicker. After Pepper died, Wayne came to her and asked her to marry him. She refused, of course. That’s when he told her what he’d done. And he said that if she refused to marry him, he’d go to the police and tell them that Connie had poisoned Pepper. After all, she was the cook She had daily access to all of Pepper’s food and drink Wayne said it wouldn’t be hard to make the police believe that Connie had been after him all along. Maybe he’d even admit to sleeping with her once or twice. He’d be full of remorse for his part in his wife s death. But when he rejected Connie s ever-growing sexual demands, how could he know she’d resort to poison to get rid of Pepper? Well, as you can imagine, Connie was horrified. It all sounded so plausible that she felt sure Wayne could make the accusation stick After all, to the outside world, all she had going for her were her looks. It would seem natural that she’d use them to better her station in life. She came over to my house the same night he proposed. Id never seen her in such a panic. First she told me what Wayne had done and then she said she dgo to jail if she didn’t agree to be his new wife. She begged me to tell her what to do. What could I say? Wayne had all the cards. If she didn’t agree to his terms, she’d end up in prison. Nathan would go to a foster home. Their lives would be ruined. After she calmed down a little, she mentioned that Wayne had insisted that it would be good for Nathan to finally have a real family. Connie couldn’t give him much — she had no money and never would — but Wayne could give him the world. The best schools. Music lessons. Summer camps. After they were married, he promised to make Nathan his legal son. He told her he loved her like he’d never loved anyone else in his entire life, that he didn’t want to go on living without her. When she got home later that night, she found him sitting on the back porch. He asked her again to marry him. Had he been so wrong to think she caredfor him just a little? She asked him to give her a day to decide. She talked to Nathan about it. He was nine or ten at the time. I don’t know what he said exactly, but the next day Connie told Wayne she’d marry him, but that she wouldn’t do it right away. There had to be a decent waiting period after Pepper’s death. She didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. She asked for two years. He agreed to one. And exactly one year to the day after Pepper died they were married.