Sara Paretsky - Sisters on the Case

The girl answered, but her voice was soft and low. Madeleine could make out only a few words. ‘‘… when a wife dies…’’

Madeleine watched all the detective shows. A husband was always the prime suspect when a wife died.

Mike sounded irritated. ‘‘… have to kill her. Murder’s the only solution. It ruins everything if…’’

Madeleine put down her spoon. She used her napkin to swipe at the spilled soup, then grabbed the check. She struggled out of the booth and hurried to the cash register. Oh dear, oh dear. She hadn’t left a tip. At the register, she put down a bill, twice the total, and said breathlessly, ‘‘So sorry. Must leave. Please see that the waitress gets the tip.’’ She walked as fast as she could to the exit and didn’t stop until she was a block away, her legs aching and wobbly.

She couldn’t escape the sound of Mike’s voice: ‘‘… have to kill her… Murder’s the only solution…’’

Madeleine shuffled the deck of cards with practiced ease. She arched the cards in a high curve, caught them expertly. She’d played cards since she was a little girl and was adept at everything from bridge to Texas Hold’em. Faster than a croupier sorting chips, she slapped cards facedown, one after another. Solitaire helped her think.

Dandelion’s orange paw flicked out and the first card slewed toward the edge of the table.

Madeleine caught it in time. ‘‘Bad girl.’’ But her tone was loving.

The orange cat hunched her shoulders, waiting for another card to be played.

When the cards were down, Madeleine began to play, occasionally righting a card from Dandelion’s attack, but her thoughts darted like minnows. She should call the police. Would they listen? Mike would deny everything. Maybe she could warn Meg.

She’d never really talked much with Meg. It was Mike who was friendly. He seemed like such a nice young man. And to think he and Meg had moved to Castle Point because of her. The block of flimsily built condos had been thrown up in the sixties. Each condo had three floors that had later been made into separate apartments. An exterior stair served each unit. Apartments were scarce in the Hollywood area. She’d told her best friend, Mia, that the apartment beneath her was empty and the ad hadn’t yet run. Mia’s nephew Mike was looking for a place. Mike and Meg moved in the next week. Both had jobs on the fringes of the business, but they wanted to write movies. Didn’t everyone in Hollywood have a script to sell? Everyone but her. She was a reader and hardly ever gave a thought to the fact that she lived in Hollywood, though occasionally she went to a show with Mia.

Madeleine felt a pang of sorrow for Mia. She and Mia loved to play bridge. They made good partners, Mia bold and aggressive, Madeleine with an uncanny card sense. Their regular foursome ended with Betty Bailey’s heart attack and her husband’s move back to Texas after the funeral. Now Mia and Madeleine played bridge with Mike and Meg every Wednesday in Madeleine’s apartment.

Mike and Meg were pretty good players. Madeleine suspected that the young couple agreed to play to keep on his aunt’s good side. Mia had no family other than her sister’s son. Mia wasn’t rich but her house, once a modest bungalow, had appreciated in worth to almost a million and someday would come to Mike.

Madeleine didn’t find the evenings with Mike and Meg as cheerful as the old days with the Baileys. She had to put Dandelion in the bedroom because Meg didn’t like cats. Mia said Meg hated cats and she was sure it was because she was deathly afraid of them. ‘‘You’d think anyone would know a pet cat wouldn’t hurt them. But some people…’’ That was as near as Mia ever came to criticizing Meg, though Madeleine was sure that Mia and Meg didn’t like each other and were pleasant only because of Mike.

Oh, how awful that Mike would plan to murder-

Dandelion reached out, snagged a card.

Madeleine caught it before it fell. She drew her breath in sharply. The ace of spades. Here she was thinking about murder and she held the ace of spades in her hand. She had to do something, because she knew well enough what she’d heard and what it meant, but the police would think she was a silly old lady. It wouldn’t do any good to call Crime Stoppers. She had no proof.

Madeleine gripped the ace so tight, it bowed under pressure and the edges hurt her fingers. If only there were some way to frighten Mike…

She stared at the card. Tomorrow was Wednesday. They’d be coming here to play bridge.

Slowly a plan took shape.

Madeleine clutched the phone with a hand that shook. She hated to lie and especially to imperious Mia, a former Latin teacher with a clear-eyed view of human frailty. Madeleine tried to keep her voice casual, though she was afraid she sounded utterly false. ‘‘… running late. Could you be here at seven thirty instead of seven? That’s fine with Mike and Meg. I’ll have everything under control by then.’’ Oh dear, that wasn’t what she’d meant to say at all. It sounded absurd.

There was the tiniest pause before Mia responded. ‘‘Seven thirty it is. Is there anything I can do to help?’’

‘‘Oh no, no, it’s a family thing. Thank you, Mia. I’ll see you then.’’ She hung up quickly.

Madeleine added another swath of blush to her cheeks. Twin patches of red glowed like beacons. She smoothed and smudged and ended up looking as if she had a rash. That was all right. Young people never looked at old people, and anyway the red smears would hide a flush if her blood pressure soared. She must remember to focus on the cards and not think about Mike and Meg, not for an instant.

At ten to seven, she made sure Dandelion was in the bedroom, the door closed. She patted the pocket of her loose blue smock, scanned the card table, checked the serving tray. Everything was ready.

The bell pealed promptly at seven.

Madeleine pulled a fluffy white handkerchief from her pocket and clutched it in her left hand as she pattered to the front door. She opened it, her welcome effusive. ‘‘Come in, come in. I have our drinks ready. A light beer for Mike and scotch and soda for Meg.’’ She offered them easy chairs on one side of the coffee table, brought the drinks.

Mike looked around. ‘‘Mia usually beats us here.’’ He had a long scholarly face with bright blue eyes and an easy grin. His lanky frame made the chair look small.

Meg’s expression was remote, although some of its blankness might have been caused by stretched skin that emphasized a heart-shaped face. She took the drink with a murmured thanks.

Madeleine patted her face with the hanky, dropped onto the sofa. ‘‘Mia’s running a few minutes late. The traffic. But she’ll be here before we know it.’’ Madeleinetucked the handkerchief into the wristband of her smock and picked up a deck of cards. ‘‘We can have fun while we wait. I love to read the cards.’’ She looked coy. ‘‘I used to pick up some extra money telling fortunes, but I don’t do that anymore. I’ll do yours for free.’’ She lifted the deck, shuffled, shuffled again, shuffled a third time. ‘‘Have to start fresh to find out the truth.’’

Suddenly her nose wrinkled. She sniffled and reached for the handkerchief. She sneezed into it, murmuring, ‘‘Oh, that Dandelion, sometimes she makes me sneeze.’’

Meg’s head jerked around in search of the cat.

As Madeleine fluttered the hanky and thrust it in her pocket, the shuffled deck disappeared, replaced by a deck that looked the same. But this deck had been very carefully arranged.

Madeleine glanced at the clock. ‘‘We have time to do the magic square. We’ll do Mike first.’’

She placed one card-the ten of spades-in the center of the coffee table and snapped, facedown, three cards in a top row, three in a center row, three in a bottom row.