Рита Браун - The Tail Of The Tip-Off

He used the brass knocker in the form of a pineapple.

Anne opened the door. "Matthew, do come in."

"Forgive me for not calling. I was on my way home and thought I'd stop by to see if you need anything."

"Please come in. I'll make us both a drink. It would be lovely to have some company."

Upstairs the squeals of two girls captured his attention as he entered the house. "Party?"

"Georgina Weems. I'm trying to keep Cameron's routine as normal as I can. Children mourn differently than we do. She needs her friends. I need mine." She looked into his eyes with her hazel green eyes. "Scotch? Vodka martini? Isn't that your drink?"

"A little too early for me. I'll take a cup of your famous coffee."

"You're in luck because I was just going to make espresso. H.H. bought me that huge brass Italian thing with the eagle on the top. Restaurants don't have espresso makers this huge." She led him into the kitchen.

He folded his coat over the back of a kitchen chair. "A major machine."

She showed him the steps for making espresso, then brewed him a perfect cup, cutting a small orange rind to accompany it. She poured herself one, too, in the delicate white porcelain cup with the gold edge that H.H. also gave her for Christmas.

"Let's go in the living room. What's wrong with me? I should have taken your coat."

"Everything happens in the kitchen anyway, and I don't care about my coat. Sandy sends her love, by the way."

Anne sat down at the kitchen table. "You two have been wonderful throughout this ordeal. It's bad enough I've lost my husband"-she put her cup on the saucer-"but to have people think I killed him is a deep dose of cruelty. I know what is being said behind my back."

"Now, only the sheriff is going to take that route. He has to investigate all possibilities." He tried to soothe her.

"Rick was here yesterday. Cooper, too. You know my little greenhouse? They went through it with me and asked me questions about belladonna. They were quite obvious so I pointed out that even an azalea if ingested in large quantities can induce a coma. Buttercups can shred your digestive system. The berries on mistletoe can be fatal." She paused. "I must look like a husband killer." She dropped her head slightly, then raised it.

"Not to me you don't."

"Thank you."

"This espresso is better than anything I've ever had in a restaurant." He sipped appreciatively. "Need any shopping done?"

"Thank you, no. The weather has kept me in more than anything. Let them stare. I'll stare right back."

"That's the spirit. Most people are so damned bored anyway they're looking at you with envy in their eyes. 'If only I could be that interesting.'?" He mimicked what he thought such a voice would sound like.

"Oh, Matthew, you're pulling my leg."

"Hey, I'll pull your arm, too." He drained his cup.

She refilled it. "Should I call Sandy and tell her I'm peeling you off the ceiling?"

"One of the advantages of being big is that I can ingest a lot more of everything before it affects me." He smiled. "You know, I've been thinking a lot about H.H.'s death. We both know his temper might piss off someone, excuse my French, but a deep-dyed enemy? Can't think of a one."

"What about his lover when he ditched her?" Anne was surprisingly frank, but Matthew was an old friend.

"I didn't know about that-not until everyone knew and then the next evening there he was at the basketball game with you."

"For Cameron. He was waffling. 'I'll go. I'll stay.' It really was hell and I suppose that's why I'm not mourning the way people think I should. I suppose I do look guilty." Her jaw set.

"Why didn't you tell us? Sandy and I would have talked to him. You know that."

She lightly tapped the table with the head of the small spoon. "I was furious that he would think I was so stupid, so pliable, that he could do this to me again. When I did confront him he denied it. Don't they all? But I wore him down. He said he was sorry but he also said he needed a lift. He needed too many lifts over the years." She rose, opened the refrigerator and put out cookies, then drew herself another espresso. She also poured a shot of McCallums for good measure. She held up the bottle but Matthew shook his head no. "The only thing I didn't do was take an andiron and brain him."

"Did you know the woman?"

"Eventually. Mychelle Burns."

"Ah." He chose not to say what he knew about that.

"Now she's dead, too, and it doesn't look good for me."

"There are very good lawyers in this town. Don't you worry."

"I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't worried. More worried for Cameron than for me. What if her little friends hear their parents talking? What if they tell Cameron, 'Your mother murdered your daddy'? My God, that terrifies me."

"We aren't there yet." He exhaled. "Presumably Rick will find out why Mychelle was killed but that's not really my concern. I've been thinking. Could this have had anything to do with H.H.'s business?"

"How?" She sipped the scotch, the warmth as comforting in its way as the espresso was.

He paused a moment. "Oh, money under the table. Rigged bids. That sort of thing."

"Not that I know of. It wasn't that H.H. kept his business life from me but by the time he'd come home, the food would be on the table and we'd talk to Cameron. That was her time. After supper he might mention what happened in his day. I guess most couples are like that or become like that. You move in separate worlds unless you're in the business together."

"True. Sandy and I rarely talk about business. I don't want to bring it home." He made a motion with his hands as though pushing something away. "Men and women have better things to talk about."

"From time to time he'd blow his stack over Fred Forrest."

"Fred's such a pain in the ass. Now if someone murdered him, I could understand that. What about firing someone, a guy who holds a grudge?"

She shook her head. "Given the type of business you're in, I know you have to fire people but he never brought that up. If an ex-employee bore a grudge, I knew nothing of it."

"H.H. used to make fun of me because a lot of my boys are functionally illiterate, but I'll tell you, they are loyal. They know it's hard to get hired and they know most bosses will trim down their pay if they can hardly read and write. I pay them well and I get good work, steady, good work. It's been years since I've had to fire anyone."

"Isn't it a pain, though? You can't leave written notes."

"You'd be amazed at what they remember. They don't need to have a note. Tell them and they remember. Granted, it's a problem if something comes up and Opie's down at the store getting lunch. Or you're going to leave the site and you need to leave him a note, but that doesn't happen very much. Anyway, I have a good foreman and that helps."

"I wish I could tell you something, anything."

"You may not be able to answer this-do you think you would have divorced him?"

"For Cameron's sake, I wouldn't want to."

"What about yours?" Matthew's voice was soft.

"Oh." She glanced at a spot over his head then dropped her gaze to his. "He'd become a habit. I was used to him. There were days when I loved him and days when I didn't. Lately there were more of the 'didn't.'?"

"Anne, I'm sorry. Truly sorry." She shrugged, tilted her head and smiled. He continued. "If you need a good lawyer, let me know. You know you can call Sandy or me any time of night or day. If you need some time alone, we'll be glad to take Cameron. Matt and Ted adore her. They'll be big brothers."

"Thank you. Do you think I did it?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Thank you, Matthew."

43

White cartons of Chinese food, tops opened like flower petals, decorated Harry's kitchen table. Cynthia Cooper brought the delicacies, a ritual she and Harry shared on those Saturday nights when neither of them had a date.