Jill Churchill - Silence of the Hams

But then, it seldom crossed her mind in normal circumstances either unless Shelley reminded her.

“We're so sorry about your loss," Jane said.

“It was a terrible shock," Rhonda admitted. "But everyone's been so kind. Dear Tony has been helping me with the arrangements for the funeral." With that, she let go of Jane and Shelley and transferred her grip to Tony, who looked a little startled, but pleased. "Tony helped me decide on the coffin. Such a terrible word, coffin. And such a terrible thing to have to decide about. And the funeral people asked me all sorts of things that I never gave a thought to. Like things for the obituary in the paper, for example. Robert's degrees and professional organizations and exact dates. Tony had it all in a file. No wonder Robert was so pleased to have him for a partner.”

She was babbling, but she was entitled to, Jane figured. "Sit down and rest," Shelley said. "The coffee's done and you really should eat something. Jane and I will bring it out to you.”

Dabbing at the corners of her eyes, careful not to mess up her makeup, Rhonda let Tony lead her away to the sofa grouping in front of the enormous fireplace in the sunken living room. Shelley gave Jane a quick look that si‑ lently said, "We already have things to talk about.”

When they joined Rhonda, Tony had disappeared again. "He's making some phone calls for me," Rhonda explained without prompting. "The state bar association and some old friends and neighbors. Oh, dear — it doesn't seem possible that this has happened, does it?"

“It's a terrible shame," Shelley said. "And it must be very hard on you."

“Yes, but it could have been much worse for Robert." At their perplexed expressions, she added. "You see, he had an absolute horror of illness and a lingering death. He was so active — so enormously active. Physically, mentally, socially. To have been rendered inactive would have been hell for him. At least his death was very, very quick. I know if he'd had a choice, that would have been his preference."

“Do the police have any idea what happened?" Shelley asked innocently.

“They're not telling me anything," Rhonda said with what would have been called a pout in other circumstances. "Just asking questions. Terribly personal questions, some of them.”

Tony Belton had come back into the room. " — which I keep telling you you're under no obligation to answer," he added.

“But Tony, I have nothing to conceal. And I want the person who did this awful thing apprehended as soon as possible.”

Tony didn't comment, but held out the list of names and phone numbers. "Rhonda, I think one of these is wrong. I keep getting a pizza restaurant.”

The doorbell rang and Tony started to get up. Shelley stopped him. "I'll get it. In fact, Jane and I need to be moving along. We'll come back later on and help with the food, or tidying up or whatever you might need.”

They went to the door, where two more neighbors stood. One had a box of pastries from an expensive bakery. The other had a foil-covered casserole in a raffia basket. Shelley showed them in, and as she was closing the door, they could hear Rhonda saying, "Martha! Nancy! How wonderful of you to come help me out at this awful, awful time. I knew I could count on you. Such good friends."

“Hmm. Why does that sound familiar?" Shelley said.

7

"Why are we rushing off?" Jane asked.

“Because she's not a real person. She's a recording. She's not going to say anything interesting or useful. Not unless you're willing to be patronized for days on end while you wait."

“But did you see the looks she was giving Tony Belton?”

Shelley nodded. "That's a woman who is either having an affair or wanting to have an affair."

“I agree. There was something hungry and greedy in the looks, the little touches, the sad but provocative smiles. I wonder if Mel has seen them together. Do you think a man would pick up on that?"

“Even if he did, it wouldn't be evidence—" "But it's sure a nice motive, isn't it?" Jane said, getting into the car. "The wife and part‑ ner could get all the benefits of his business, his investments, everything — and without the bother of having him around. Which has to be a relief to both of them on general principle. A person like that can't be easy to live with or do business with."

“Do you really think we ought to go to visit Sarah in the hospital?" Shelley asked.

“Why not?”

Shelley shrugged. "I'd feel perfectly all right about it if she were in for surgery, but a mental breakdown? What do you say to somebody who's gone off the deep end?"

“The same things you say to anyone. Hope you're feeling better. Chat about neighborhood news — well, maybe not. Let's deliver the flowers and ask at the nurses' station if they think she'd like company. She probably doesn't. And if she does, we'll just be cheerful.”

They stopped at a florist shop and got a couple sprays of fragrant pink lilies in an especially pretty clear vase. "We're bringing these for Mrs. Baker," Jane said at the nurses' station when they finally found the right floor. "Should we leave them with you, or—"

“Yes, dear. Leave them here. Mrs. Baker is only authorized to have family visitors. You aren't family, are you? Oh, here comes her sister. She might want to take them in for you.”

Grace Axton, looking very tired, had just come out of a room down the hallway. "Oh, how lovely of you," she said, when she saw them standing there with their flowers. "I'll just take them to her room. She's sleeping right now. She'll be so pleased.”

Jane and Shelley waited patiently for Grace to return. "You look exhausted," Shelley said when Grace rejoined them. "Let us buy you some lunch. I'll bet you didn't get any.”

Grace smiled. "I don't think I have eaten, come to think of it. But not here. The food in this place makes me think of that old movie Soylent Green. There's a pizza place across the street."

“You'd eat pizza?" Jane said in amazement. "On purpose?”

When they'd walked across the street and were seated on remarkably uncomfortable rigid plastic chairs, Jane asked, "How is your sister doing?”

Grace lifted her shoulders. "Still sedated. The doctor thinks it was just exhaustion, topped off by that awful man dying in the storeroom. He says a couple days of enforced rest ought to put her right."

“Meanwhile you're doing her work and yours," Shelley said.

“The work's not bad. I'm not much of a cook and Conrad found someone to help him from a restaurant that's shut down for renovations. It'll really screw up our budget, but mainly I'm concerned with Sarah.”

Jane said, "Is there anything we can do for her? Bring her magazines or newspapers or some kind of craft project to occupy her?"

“I can't think what," Grace said. "Certainly not newspapers. Conrad would flip. He won't even allow that little local rag in the house because he didn't want her to know about the zoning battle.”

A perky waitress came and took their orders. When she'd gone, Shelley said hesitantly, picking her words with care, "I'm a little surprised at the change in Sarah. I remember her in high school as very outgoing, bubbly—"

“—and I was the shy, nerdy one," Grace said.

“Not nerdy, but shy — yes. It's like you've changed roles. What happened?"

“With me, it's simple and not very interesting. I married a jerk and finally got up the courage to divorce him. I'd taken all those bookkeeping classes in school and found out that I was pretty good at numbers and could earn my own living. Once I'd done that, it was like a great revelation that I could control my life! Funny how some of us have to be slapped upside the head with something traumatic to understand that, while others—"