"Kate Wilhelm - Sleight of Hand(2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)
The house was tall and a little too narrow for its height, in need of paint. It had a deep porch with white pillars to the upper floor, a mixture of American late-twenties and pseudo-Colonial, not a good mix on such a tall house. Wally opened the door before she had a chance to ring the bell.
"Come in. Come in. Our first real visitor and even if we're not formally receiving yet, you are welcome."
The door opened into a living room where furniture was grouped in the center and boxes stacked about. The walls were dingy, like a peach that had grown moldy.
"We're doing one room at a time," Wally said with his big winning grin showing what appeared to be too many teeth. "And this one was low on the list. This way."
Meg joined them and smiled at Barbara as Wally led the way to a kitchen the width of the house, brightly painted in yellow and robin-egg blue. A big, much-scarred oak table and mismatched chairs were by a cluster of windows. "This was first," Wally said gesturing. "Needed new appliances, stove, fridge, microwave and such, but the cabinets were here. Pretty, aren't they? The table's from Meg's childhood, in storage for twenty years."
"Wally," Meg said, "I'm sure Barbara didn't come here to admire our house. Come this way," she said gesturing to Barbara. They ended up in a room with comfortable furnishings, a television, fresh pale green paint on the walls and sparkling white cafe curtains. The view out back was of a brick-red barn with a cedar shake roof covered with moss.
"I like your house," Barbara said. "It's going to be great when you're done."
"We had priorities," Wally said, beaming. "Kitchen first for food and drink. Bedroom next, rest and... rest. This was next, and that's when we decided to get away from the paint smells and breathe some ocean air. Wish we had stayed home, but there it is." He motioned toward a wing chair. "You'll find that comfortable," he said. Then he put his arm about Meg's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. They sat down on a sofa. "She told me," he said. "Too bad, but water under the dam, water over the bridge, water spilled, or something. It's done and what do we do about it now?"
"Not a thing yet," Barbara said. "Until we know when Wilkins was killed, we sit tight. Wally, are you certain you didn't accidentally pick up the boat and slip it into your pocket?"
His grin broadened. "Barbara, my coat was in the foyer. If I'd done that it wouldn't have been by accident. Nope. Jay did it."
"Why?" Barbara asked. "Was there an old score to settle? Was he jealous over Meg? Why would he have done such a thing?"
"I don't know. I can't figure it out, no way. We weren't really friends in the long gone days, just collaborators and coworkers. I never did a thing to him, and after they got me I told him he was out of it. And he was."
Meg shook her head. "It was pretty well-known that Wally and I were a thing. Jay never paid any attention to me."
"Okay," Barbara said. "What did he say about his wife when you saw him at the casino?"
"I saw him first," Meg said, "and he was not very interested. I didn't mean a thing popping up from the past. In fact, he didn't ask a single question about us, where we'd been, what we'd done. I don't think he was interested then or later. I said for him to come say a quick hello to Wally, that we were getting ready to leave, and he went with me to the blackjack table. He didn't mention his wife until Wally left the table and said hello. I don't think he liked the way Wally looked him over or something and he sort of moved back a step," Meg said. "It was as if to make up for that little bit of awkwardness that he began to talk about her, that she was away on a trip, and he was lonely. He could be quite charming, a salesman at heart. He asked when we would be back in town and invited us to come out to his house on Monday. We weren't together more than ten minutes. On Monday, we were with him a little longer, maybe half an hour."
"What did she mean, the way you looked at him?" Barbara asked.
"It was spooky that he was so much like his father. I might have looked him over pretty hard," Wally said.
"On Monday night, what did he say about his wife?" Barbara was feeling dissatisfied and frustrated and told herself there was nothing more to pursue in this line, but she asked and waited for their answer.
Meg supplied it. "He said he had called her sister and his wife had not gone there to visit. He didn't know where she was, and he was worried. He had called the police to report her missing, but they said to wait a few days. He said she'd had a nervous breakdown a couple of years ago, and he was afraid she was suffering major depression, that she might not be responsible, that she might even harm herself, commit suicide. He was not leaving the house, for fear she would finally call and he wouldn't be there." She glanced at Wally. "That's about it, I think."
He nodded. "We never met her but even so I guess my sympathy was for her, not him," Wally continued. "If he was as much like his old man as he looked like him, she had cause to hightail it out. He left to get her picture to show us. That has to be when he put the boat in my coat pocket."
"Full circle back to the boat," Barbara said. "Okay. But there could be a reason for his asking you to the house. Try to think of what it might have been." She started to get up.
"There's another thing or two," Wally said. He had his arm around Meg's shoulders again and drew her closer. "We know it was a mistake to take the damned boat back, and that someone could have seen Meg. I'll take the rap before I let them hang it on Meg. Keep that in mind."
No trace of her dimple or his affable grin was in sight. Her lips tightened slightly and she shook her head a little. Wally evidently tightened his grip on her shoulder.
"If Jay was killed hours before she got there, or hours after she left, Meg has little to be afraid of," Barbara said slowly, "even if someone saw her there. And that's still an unknown."
Meg smiled. "There was never much time when we were moving around a lot. I just put them out of mind after Wally came home, but I want to do more. Over the years I seem to have accumulated a lot of ideas."
"She can't afford to have her name mixed up in a theft rap, or a murder case," Wally said. "I think certain people would say she's not fit to speak to children."
Barbara sank back against the chair. "Did you use your name?"
"No. Margaret Waite. I thought it was appropriate, since I was waiting for Wally. But in this day and age I don't think that would be a secret for long."
Barbara felt a faint memory stir. "What were the books?"
"They're about a baby dragon," Meg said. "For four- to seven-year-olds, that age group."
"Good God! I loved those books! I think I memorized them all!" A vivid memory surfaced of sitting in her mother's lap, watching her slender finger trace the words as she read about the baby dragon.
Meg dimpled and Wally flashed his big grin. "That's my girl," he said. "And, Barbara, remember, she's to be kept all the way out of whatever comes next. I won't even have her name breathed by the cops."
Chapter 7
Barbara sat on Frank's porch on Sunday afternoon, waiting for him to finish in the garden. She had brought out a glass of ice water for him. He would be as hot as she had become walking over.
Both cats came to her looking for a handout. She showed them the water glass and they walked away with disdain. Frank joined her. He took off his gardening shoes and put on house slippers, then sat in another rattan chair.
"Ah," he said, picking up his water. "Thank you."
"You work too hard."
"Noted. What's new?"
"Jay Wilkins died between two and four hours after his last meal, and take-out food was delivered at seven."
"Ah," he said again, and drank some of the water.
"Meg was there at about nine forty-five," she added.
"Ah," he said again. "I've been thinking about that." He took another drink. "You realize that the day's coming when you'll have to fess up. Material evidence in a murder case can't be concealed by an attorney, not if she expects to keep her license."
"I can't," she said. "Wally's prepared to lie to hell and gone to keep Meg out of it. If she contradicts him, he'll make it look like she's trying to save his neck. And his word would carry more weight than mine. They much prefer a confession to anything a lawyer might have to say."
"You think he'd lie under oath?"
"Dad, would you lie under oath to save my life?"
Gruffly he said, "That's a different question." He finished the water.
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