Лори Касс - Wrong Side Of The Paw

“Too mild,” she said, staring at me fiercely. “I suppose I’m sorry for his kids, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“His oldest daughter, Leese, is a friend of mine.”

Daphne nodded. “My younger sister went to school with her. Nice enough, in spite of her dad.”

I’d introduced myself as I had to Rob Driskell, saying that I was considering having a house built, and that I’d been told she’d had some troubles with her construction. It was an odd introduction, but it wasn’t too far outside the realm of possibility.

“She’s trying to start a law practice up here,” I said.

“Another lawyer,” Daphne muttered. “Just what we need.”

“This is a little different,” I told her. “She’s specializing in cases for the elderly. Elder law, they call it.”

Daphne sniffed. “Putting a fancy label on an attorney just means they charge more.”

Ever so slowly, I was cottoning on to the fact that Daphne Raab was not a person filled with positive energy and general goodwill toward her fellow human beings. Moving away from the attorney issue, I said, “Is there anything you can tell me about Dale Lacombe that would help me make a decision about building?”

“Not much point now in telling you not to hire him,” she said, almost smirking, “but that’s what I would have said if you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago.”

Maybe Leese’s father hadn’t been an exemplary person, but enjoying the fact of his death was out of line. I tucked my irritation into a dark corner because, after all, I was the one who’d come to her. “He was murdered,” I reminded her. “Have you thought about who might have killed him?”

“No idea.” She laughed. “The police are going to have a heckuva time sorting this one out. It’ll be easier for them to go at it from the other way around, to figure out who didn’t want that . . . who didn’t want him dead.” She barked a short laugh. “Bet it was the wife. I don’t see how anyone could have put up with him for more than half an hour without wanting to smack the living daylights out of him.”

Her expression changed to polite blandness. “Really, though, I shouldn’t say anything. I don’t want to be the kind of person who says horrible things about people behind their backs.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, but she had, and had appeared to be enjoying herself immensely up until the last two sentences. Passive aggressive, thy name is Daphne Raab. “You know Carmen Lacombe?” I asked.

Daphne shrugged. “I know who she is. It wasn’t long ago they were separated. I heard she was going to ask him for a divorce. At least she doesn’t have to do that now.”

I asked a few more questions about the construction of her house then thanked her for her help and drove away, my mind whirling with the new information.

Carmen and Dale had been separated? Why hadn’t anyone told me that particular piece of very critical information?

Which led to an even more uncomfortable question: What else hadn’t I been told?

• • •

“That’s just not true,” Carmen said. “I don’t know how that story got around and it’s just so annoying that Daphne Raab of all people—Daphne Raab!—thinks she knows anything about my marriage. I can’t believe she would say that to you! No wonder Dale had to sue her to get paid for that job. Do you know what she said about him in the deposition?”

I did not, actually, not in the least, but Carmen was in full spate and there was no stopping her. On the plus side, we were talking on the phone and I was back home in the houseboat with Eddie on my lap, so at least I had some comforting purrs to soften Carmen’s ranting.

“That woman,” Carmen practically spat, “said my husband had the morals of a snake and the ethics of pond scum. Pond scum! The next time I saw her, you can believe that I told her exactly what I thought of her.”

I did believe it, all too easily. “Do you know how the rumor started that you and Dale were separated?”

She heaved a tremendous sigh. “It got blown all out of proportion. You’d think people would have better things to do than talk about other people, but they don’t. If we could harness the power of gossip, we’d have energy enough to light the world.”

That was probably true, but I didn’t want her to get off topic. “What was blown out of proportion?”

“Oh, it was just one of those silly things that happen in a marriage,” she said airily. “It was nothing, and he was back in the house in less than a week.”

“He moved out?”

“Of course he didn’t. All he packed was a suitcase. You can’t move out on a single suitcase.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but let it go. “What had you been fighting about?”

She hesitated. “You know, I don’t remember. I really don’t. Isn’t that funny? You’d think I’d remember our last big fight. But we don’t get to pick what we remember, do we?”

We did not, and more than once I’d wished to forget certain things that were ingrained into my psyche. Being picked last for a kickball team in elementary school, for one. For another, tripping on the top step of the stage as I walked through high school graduation and falling flat on my face in front of hundreds of people. Still, I’d survived both episodes and the experiences had made me a more compassionate person. Or so I hoped.

“Do you know where he stayed for that week?” I asked.

“With Mia,” she said, then laughed. “Maybe that’s why Dale came back so fast this time. He was tired of eating Mia’s cooking. Boiling water is about as much as she can do.”

I latched on to the first part of what she’d said. “This wasn’t the first time Dale left for a few days?”

“Well, I didn’t keep score.” Carmen sniffed. “Sometimes it was Dale and sometimes it was me. Every couple needs time away from each other.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, either. My parents had slept in the same bed every night of their marriage except for the hospital stays when my brother and I had been born. But every marriage was different, and if time apart was what had helped keep the Lacombes’ union intact, who was I to say it wasn’t a successful marriage?

“What do you think, Minnie?” Carmen asked. “Do you think that Raab woman killed my husband? I wouldn’t put it past her, she’s just a ball of hate.”

The phrase was an odd one to apply to a human being, but somehow it was apt. “She did come across as a negative person,” I said. “But here’s the thing. If she was angry enough at Dale to kill him, it seems as if she would have done it when the lawsuit was under way. Why would she do it now, when everything has been resolved?”

“The legal issues might be over,” Carmen said, “but there are things that the suit didn’t settle. The woman only had to pay us seventy cents for every dollar we were owed. Where’s the justice in that?”

Daphne’s side of the story was different, of course. She’d told me she’d had to pay another contractor to finish her house because Dale never came back to finish the interior trim work and the final coats of paint, inside and out. If I asked Carmen for details, which I wasn’t about to do, I was sure she would say that Dale would have eventually gone back to finish Daphne’s job, but she had been too impatient.

Eddie bumped my elbow with his head and I started petting his sleek coat.

Where was the justice? The judge in the lawsuit had probably had a better grasp on it than anyone involved, and it was time to move the conversation on. “I’ve heard that your husband had a number of employees that he didn’t get along with very well. Do you think any of them could have killed Dale?”

“The police asked me the same thing,” Carmen said, “and I don’t know why people are saying that. Dale was a great boss. Sure, he had turnover, but this is the construction business. It’s hard work and lots of people can’t handle it. That’s all Dale wanted, was his guys to put in a good day of work. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”