"Kate Wilhelm - Sleight of Hand(2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

"And you have your answer. Also," she continued, "the insurance investigator called to let me know they found the boat. Just a little mistake, a bit of absentmindedness. He's happy to be out of it, he said. It can be messy when someone accuses a guest of theft. Messy! He doesn't know the half of it."
"Well, keep in mind two things Чthe widow is still out of sight, and someone else was present that night, and that person hasn't made a peep yet. When and if they come forward will be time enough to put on your worry hat." He stood up. "I'm going to rustle up a quick dinner." He went inside and she followed him.
They ate on the back porch with the two lion-sized cats watching every bite the way they would watch a mouse, ever ready to pounce.
"Funny how it works out that there's always enough left over for me to have at least one more meal," she commented later as he spooned peas into a plastic container and she washed the pots and pans.
"Like to make enough," he said. "Don't reheat the salmon. It's better cold on a salad once it's cooked."
It had been grilled to perfection.
"Were you busy this weekend?" he asked casually.
"We went to the Hult Center last night," Barbara said. "That Irish dancing group. I don't see the point of standing like a statue and moving your feet."
She didn't add another word, but Frank was satisfied. He cursed himself for clinging to whatever shred of her private life she cast his way. But, at least, Barbara and Darren were still on track, however slowly the train was moving.
The phone rang and Frank went to his study to listen to the answering machine. When Bailey's voice came on, he picked up the phone. "I'm here."
"Is Barbara there?" She was always there on Sunday nights. He didn't wait for an answer. "My contact got in touch a little while ago. Did you read about that woman's body they fished out of the drink a few days ago? Thursday, I think it was."
"I saw the item," Frank said. He had paid scant attention. Every year half a dozen or more poor souls ended up in the ocean.
"They've made a positive ID," Bailey said. "Connie Wilkins, the missing widow. They shipped the remains off to the state pathology forensics lab in Salem to determine when and how she died. They won't make an official statement until they notify next of kin."
For a time after hanging up, Frank considered this new development, and finally decided there was no point in speculating.
When her father left the kitchen, Barbara had started thinking about the previous night, and how frustrated she felt about things in general, and Darren in particular. They had gone to the Electric Station for a snack after the show, but it had been crowded, noisy, with live music, making talk almost impossible. Then, driving back to her apartment, Darren had asked her to go with him and Todd to explore ghost towns in late June.
"A week or ten days roughing it, with my cooking, yet. I guess it doesn't sound too enticing, but will you?"
"I can't. There's too much piling up with Shelley gone, and I have a case that could turn serious."
He had put his hand on her arm. "You don't have to explain."
At her door she had hesitated, then thanked him for a good evening and he had kissed her lightly on the lips and left.
Her answer had been too swift, she thought, drying her hands, done with the dishwashing. She should have given it at least a little thought first. She had not yet invited him into her apartment, and she couldn't think why. They both wanted to go to bed; it was in the air between them. He wouldn't make the first move at his house when Todd was around, and she had not gone there during Todd's weekends with his mother, and she had not once asked him in. She bit her lip and shook her head impatiently. Around and around.
"Bobby, a new wrinkle in the Wilkins business," Frank said, returning to the kitchen. He told her about Bailey's call. "Just don't start playing the various possible scenarios until we know more," he cautioned, as if aware that she was doing just that, all thoughts of Darren eclipsed instantly with his words.
She met a secret lover for a rendezvous and he killed her? One killer, two victims? She killed herself?
"Suddenly there are new players," Frank said thoughtfully. "There's a big estate to consider and someone's going to inherit it. Depends on who died first, doesn't it?"
Barbara switched her line of thought. If they had to send the body to a forensics lab to determine when she died, it meant she had been in the water more than just a day or two.
"I don't know a thing about her family, but on his side there's his ex," she said. "Probably she won't get a cent. But there are two kids, young adults, and one of them is mentally ill. It's like a Chinese puzzle box," she said. "Every time you think you have all the pieces, you find another one."

Chapter 8

On late Monday afternoon Stephanie Breaux sat at her desk regarding the bill Cedar View had prepared for her. It would wipe out the savings account again, and if it weren't for Connie's monthly checks, she would have dipped into her credit line. She had just finished paying it off from the last hospitalization. The new prescription Dr. Mohrbeck had given her that day had come to two hundred forty dollars for a month's supply. Added to the others it ran the monthly total to over a thousand dollars.
She should have stuck it out with Jay, she thought bleakly. Now she would be the widow with assets, a house to sell, art objects, antiques. Whatever she could get for the dealership. No more money worries. She drew in her breath angrily; it was pointless to pretend she had had a choice when she was as glad as Eric that Jay was dead. The ultimate scene with Jay played in her head, the one that had made divorce her only option.
Eric had come to her home office and stood in the doorway looking awkward and very young. He had been almost sixteen.
"I came up to say goodbye," he said in a low voice, keeping his gaze averted.
She looked up from the ledger she had been working on. Then, as now, she had done the books for the shop, and her partner, Diane Gormandi, the traveling and buying. "What do you mean? Goodbye?"
"Dad kicked me out. I'm going to hang out at Woody's house. His mom and dad said it's okay."
She stood up. "What are you talking about?"
"He said I have to clear out."
She went to him and hugged him fiercely. "You'll never be told to leave my home," she said. "We'll see about this."
He was unresponsive and she realized how near tears he was. "I'll go pack some stuff," he said.
She found Jay in front of the wall-sized television screen.
"What did you say to Eric?" She walked to the television and turned it off.
"I told him to get out. I don't intend to have a pervert living in my house, in my father's house. Let him go down to San Francisco and be with others like him. No doubt some big-hearted six-footer will welcome a cute toy boy like Eric. I was watching a game," he said. "Do you mind?" Using the remote, he turned the TV on again.
She snatched the remote from his hand and threw it across the room. "This is my home, too, and by God you can't drive our son out of it!"
He stood up, brushed past her and went to the bar. Behind it, he finally looked at her. "Get this through your head. This was my father's house and he willed it to me. To me. Not us. And I don't have a son. I'm not even sure he's a boy. He can't bring his filth here and stay."
"If he goes, so do I."
"Your choice. Take your twisted kids and beat it. Suits me. She's a dummy, a mental case who should be in an institution. That deer-in-the-headlights act of hers turns my stomach, and he's just as sick. They both turn my stomach. Your twisted kids. Have fun with them."
She knew she could not have stayed with him, that she had stayed years longer than she should have, but she had been afraid for their sick daughter.
The day the divorce was finalized, he had dropped them from his medical insurance, and the day they reached eighteen, their monthly support checks had stopped. Stephanie had been denied insurance for Eve.
She pushed the new hospital bill away tiredly Tomorrow she would bring her daughter home. Eve had been at Cedar View for eight days this time, one of her shorter stays.
Dr. Mohrbeck had found that hopeful. After two years of good progress, a little setback was not unexpected, he had told her. "There may be another one or two, but perhaps not. We wait and see. Call the downtown office for an appointment in a week or ten days. And get some sleep. You look exhausted."
That day when she told Eve that she had to stay only one more night, Eve had hugged her hard and whispered, "Mother, I'm sorry."