Lisa Gardner - The Next Accident

"As I mentioned on the phone," Rainie said, "I have a few simple questions about Amanda Quincy."

Mary held up a hand. "The coffee, please."

Rainie blinked, feeling gauche. Then she realized that good old Jeeves was hovering with a silver tray bearing an antique coffee urn and two tiny china cups. He set the serving tray down on a side table and did the honors of pouring the first dose. Rainie accepted hers with genuine trepidation. The paper-thin china looked old, rare, and highly fragile. She was guessing that it held approximately three sips of coffee, at which time she'd be forced to refill the cup herself from the heavy silver pot. Maybe she'd just nurse this batch.

"Nice place," Rainie tried, attempting to balance the teacup on her knee while still trying to figure out why Mandy's best friend appeared so nervous.

"It's been in my husband's family for generations."

"He's a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Works lots of hours?"

"Of course. He's one of the best neurosurgeons in the country and his patients need him."

Rainie was getting a few things now. "Older?"

"In his forties."

"Met him where you used to work, huh? Went from best tipper to permanent meal ticket. Not bad."

Mary flushed. "I suppose you could look at it that way."

"Oh no, trust me, I admire you. Wouldn't mind meeting a neurosurgeon, myself."

"Mark's a wonderful husband." Mary was still in defensive mode.

"Mark and Mary. Oh yeah, those Christmas cards have got to be killers."

"I thought you said you were working on Mandy's accident."

"You're right; I'm getting off track. So about the night in question – "

"What about that night?" Mary interrupted. "I'm afraid I don't understand the reason for this interview. The accident happened over a year ago. Mandy got drunk, she drove. She did that sometimes, you know. I don't see any point in you being here."

"Well, I heard about the coffee, thought I'd stop by." Rainie sighed at the confused look on Mary's face. Sarcasm was definitely lost on the woman. "So, about that night. You told Mandy's father that she had come over to play cards."

"That's right. We always played cards on Wednesday night. At least we did."

"Who's we?"

"Mandy, myself, Tommy, and Sue."

"You knew each other from…"

"We used to work together, at the restaurant, before I met Mark. Why is this relevant?" Mary had that tight look on her face again.

"Just asking," Rainie replied lightly. "So the four of you are playing cards."

"Hi-low-jack," Mary supplied.

"Great. Hi-low-jack. Party starts at…."

"I wouldn't call it a party," Mary said immediately. "We were drinking soda, you know. I told Mr. Quincy that we were drinking Coke."

"I got that. Playing cards, drinking Coke. You started at?"

"Nine, maybe ten. Sue's still a waitress and she had the dinner shift."

"You guys started that late on a weeknight?"

"Sue and Mandy waitressed, Tommys a bartender. So they don't have to be at work until noon at the earliest. And I… well, hours don't really matter much for me anymore."

Rainie thought she detected a trace of bitterness there. All was not well with Cinderella and Prince Charming. "You played cards until?"

"Two-thirty."

"Drinking soda the whole time."

"Yes," Mary said quickly. Too quickly. She looked down at her lap, where her fingers were now intertwined. Here we go, Rainie thought.

"You told Mandy's father that she didn't have anything to drink other than Diet Coke."

"I said I didn't see her drink anything other than Diet Coke."

"You didn't see?"

"I didn't see."

Rainie stood up. She put her cup back on the silver tray, happy to be rid of breakable objects. Then she turned back on Mary, and this time her gaze was hard.

"Didn't see, Mary? Didn't see? Now why does that seem to imply that Mandy might have been drinking after all, but you don't want to admit it?"

Mary's gaze had become fixated on her lap. She untangled her fingers, twisted the three-carat rock on her left hand, then tangled her fingers back up again.

"I swear I didn't know," she whispered.

"Do us both a favor, Mary. Spit it out."

Mary's head jerked up. Her eyes were growing darker; maybe Mrs. Doctor Olsen had some fire in her after all. "She carried the Diet Coke can with her everywhere, okay? I didn't think much of it at the time, but Mandy kept the can with her everywhere. You know, even when she went into the bathroom."

"You think she might have been mixing her own drink on the side. Looks like Diet Coke, smells like Diet Coke, oops so I added a little rum."

"It wouldn't have been the first time."

"Alcoholics do learn some good tricks," Rainie agreed, though personally she'd never been one for mixed drinks. For her, it would always be beer. "Well, let's think about this, Mary. Amanda is doing a little bartending of her own. You say she got here ten at the latest, and didn't leave until two-thirty. That's at least four and a half hours of spiked Diet Coke. Couldn't you tell?"

"No," Mary said immediately. There was a clarity to her voice now, certainty that had been previously lacking. Interesting. "That was the thing with Mandy," Mary continued earnestly. "No matter how much she had to drink, she always seemed fine. Functional. Back when we were working, she used to brag about her tolerance. We all believed her. We never thought… never would've thought, that she had a problem."

"So her joining AA was news to you?"

"Yes. Though later, when we all looked back on things, it made sense. There were some nights after closing that she'd sit in the bar and down eight drinks before heading home. Even if she seemed all right, how right could she be? She wasn't much bigger than me and alcohol doesn't exactly evaporate from your bloodstream."

"So she could've been sneaking drinks that night and you wouldn't have known?"

"Yes." Mary nodded her head emphatically. "That's true."

"What about this mystery man?"

"Mystery man?" Mary blinked.

"At the funeral, you implied to Quincy that Mandy had met someone. The new love of her life."

"No, I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"No. I'm not sure where Mr.Quincy got that idea. I don't remember saying any such thing. Why would I say such a thing?" Mary spoke in a rush.

Rainie cocked her head to the side. She regarded Mary intently. "Maybe Quincy misunderstood you."

"Maybe." Mary nodded vigorously. "It was a funeral. He wasn't in the best shape. None of us…" Her voice choked for the first time, her head bobbed back down. "None of us were."

"Mary, are you sure you want to stick with this story? That your best friend got loaded on her own. Drove home on her own. Mowed down an old pedestrian on her own."

"I'm telling you what I know to the best of my knowledge – "

"It's not what you said four weeks ago at the funeral."

"It is, too! Mr.Quincy got it all wrong! I don't know, maybe he's even more grief stricken than we thought so now he's grasping at straws and twisting what I said. Who knows what grief-crazed fathers do!"

"Grief-crazed?" Rainie echoed skeptically.

Mary finally flushed. She looked away. On her lap, however, her fingers were tangling and untangling furiously. Rainie figured it would be a miracle if they didn't end up with whiplash. Rainie took a deep breath. She nodded at Mary thoughtfully. She took her time and paced the room.

"Beautiful furniture," she commented.

Mary didn't say anything. She looked now as if she would cry.

"Must have cost your husband a lot of money."

"Mark inherited most of it," she murmured.

"Still makes quite an impression. Must have blown you away the first time you saw all this. Cinderella, entering the castle."

"Please, I'm telling you the truth about Mandy."