Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

But Sandy stared into the box for a long time before pulling the object out to hold up. “A rabbit-skin blanket,” she said. “My mother had one when I was a kid that looked like this.”

“Those were big with the Washoe,” Wish explained to Nina, whose puzzlement must have showed.

“That’s what the dealer told me. Said they keep you so warm at night, even up in Alpine County at six thousand feet in the wintertime, you could sleep in the nude in a lean-to,” Winston teased. “Of course I thought of you, Sandy.”

But the joke was lost on Sandy, who stroked the blanket with a reverent hand, saying, “Each blanket lasted three years, then you made another.” She scrutinized the front and back, then looked at Winston with the same intense interest. “You must have paid a lot.”

“They are rare,” Winston agreed.

“Used to be the Washoe hunted rabbits with nets, shooting arrows at the rabbits, who ran into the net thinking they were escaping,” Sandy said. “Four or five hundred a day were killed. Then they cut the hides into strings and dried them for a day and a half. Twenty-five strings made one jackrabbit blanket for two people.”

“I’m saving for a down blanket this winter,” said Wish stoutly. “No animals die, and it’s just as warm.”

“But when this blanket was made, life was different,” said Sandy, pulling the blanket up to rub against her cheek, “In those days, you survived without money. Even up here in Tahoe where it gets really cold.”

The shift in atmosphere was subtle. Winston handed out more gifts, exotic flowers for Nina, Genevieve, and Lindy, a pen for Paul. Sandy put the rabbit-skin blanket across a chair.

It sat there, a reminder of times when money meant nothing. The conversation lagged.

“Oh, it is beautiful this year, isn’t it?” said Nina, hoping to bring back their earlier good spirits. “More beautiful than I can ever remember. Cobalt-blue skies, cartoon clouds, a great success to celebrate…”

“Will you listen to this girl. She’s giddy with success!” Lindy said. “Let’s do one last toast, to Nina and her Irish luck.”

They raised coffee cups and glasses to her, and drank.

“This had nothing to do with luck, you know,” Nina said. “Without you all…”

“Stop her before she gushes,” commanded Winston.

“And Paul here…” she said.

“… whom we have forgiven for not pegging Wright as a problem,” said Winston, interrupting her train of thought.

“Let’s not get into that again, Winston,” Genevieve said. “None of us had Wright pegged, except maybe Nina. Anyway, he’s no danger to us anymore.”

“According to Paul, maybe he is,” said Nina. She felt a need to speak about this, even as she realized she was contributing to the erosion of good feeling they had built up.

“What do you mean?” asked Sandy.

“If you can believe this, he’s hinted around that he finds the circumstances of Wright’s death terribly suspicious.”

“How can an allergic reaction be suspicious?” Winston asked.

“I don’t know,” said Nina. “Ask the expert.”

Winston shifted in his chair to face Paul more directly. “What are you thinking?”

“He thinks someone spiked the food,” said Nina. “Crazy, huh?”

Their waiter picked up Lindy’s credit card and the bill, and walked off while the party stared at Paul, agog.

“All this commuting you have been doing between Carmel, Washington, and Tahoe has driven you completely around the bend,” said Winston.

“It’s just peculiar,” said Paul, “him keeling over. Maybe-”

“Stop right there,” Winston said. “That’s useless conjecturing. Do you realize if you even hint at this notion of yours to anyone you could cause us a huge delay?” asked Winston. “An investigation by the police could hold up our money for months.”

“Believe me, I never intended to hint at anything.”

“He just doesn’t like peculiar things,” said Nina, recognizing for the first time she, too, had had too much to drink. Her head was spinning…

Paul took her arm and helped her up. “I think we’ll be going now,” he said. “Anyone need a ride?”

No one did.

“You’re not taking this further, are you?” Winston asked as the rest of them stood up to say good-bye.

“No,” said Paul. “As far as I know, everyone’s satisfied this was an accidental death. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, yeah,” Winston said. “Uh-huh. It always starts so innocently, but later there’s running and screaming.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sandy.

“It’s from a movie,” Winston said, “about monsters getting loose.”

Monday morning when Paul reached for Nina, he found only the indentation of her body beside him. He stretched, pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, and padded barefoot down to the kitchen, where she had left him a pot of coffee smoking and black with age. A note on the counter directed him to cereal and bananas, but he didn’t want to cook. After making himself a fresh pot of coffee, he took a steaming mug out onto the deck with the morning paper, settled in, and made himself at home among the pines in Nina’s backyard.

An hour later he was caffeine-boosted and ready to move. He packed up his things, throwing the comforter over Nina’s messy bed. Before leaving, he called his office, directory assistance, Sandy at Nina’s office, and a number down south, spending nearly an hour on the phone.

In the van, he paused for a moment to consider his options. Nina for lunch, that was a given.

He would be heading home tonight. A little Monday morning gambling? Too decadent. A run in the thin mountain air? It would be good for him, but… it would be more interesting to check on the silly little thing that was nagging at him.

From the bin between the two front seats, he removed a Lake Tahoe telephone directory he had permanently borrowed from a motel a couple of years before. Flipping to the county government offices pages, he browsed for El Dorado, finding the office he wanted on Johnson Boulevard.

He dialed a number, asking for directions and a fifteen minute appointment, which was, a little to his surprise, granted.

The medical examiner had his office in the same complex as the courthouse where he needed to meet Nina later. How convenient.

“Nice to have things quiet again,” said Sandy when Nina finally climbed down from the Annapurna of papers on her desk for a midmorning cup of coffee. “Everyone’s coming in late.” She stood in the doorway of Nina’s office, her own fresh coffee in hand.

“Everyone’s pooped,” said Nina. The last months had been hell. They deserved to sleep late. “Did I thank you for holding this place together while I was so swamped?”

“Yes, but feel free to thank me again.” The long line of Sandy’s lips extended slightly.

“And you’re due for a big bonus when my fee comes in.”

A quiver of her eyelid suggested that Sandy found this very exciting news. “Should we start looking for bigger offices?”

“No.”

“Why not? You’ll want to expand a little. Not enough to upset our little applecart here, of course, but a little. Since the trial ended, you look like a ghost rattling her chains. You need a project.”

“There’s always a letdown after a trial but I’m not sure expanding the business is what I should do.”

Sandy stared at her. “You have some other plan you forgot to mention?”

“Maybe I’ll take some time off. Maybe a year.”

Sandy sucked in her breath. “So it comes to this,” she said.

“Comes to what?”

“Money. That’s what it does… it gets inside people. They forget who they are.” She seemed to be recalling something unpleasant. “I should have known. Since the beginning of this case, you’ve been compromising like crazy.”