"Isn't it a pain, though? You can't leave written notes."
"You'd be amazed at what they remember. They don't need to have a note. Tell them and they remember. Granted, it's a problem if something comes up and Opie's down at the store getting lunch. Or you're going to leave the site and you need to leave him a note, but that doesn't happen very much. Anyway, I have a good foreman and that helps."
"I wish I could tell you something, anything."
"You may not be able to answer this-do you think you would have divorced him?"
"For Cameron's sake, I wouldn't want to."
"What about yours?" Matthew's voice was soft.
"Oh." She glanced at a spot over his head then dropped her gaze to his. "He'd become a habit. I was used to him. There were days when I loved him and days when I didn't. Lately there were more of the 'didn't.'?"
"Anne, I'm sorry. Truly sorry." She shrugged, tilted her head and smiled. He continued. "If you need a good lawyer, let me know. You know you can call Sandy or me any time of night or day. If you need some time alone, we'll be glad to take Cameron. Matt and Ted adore her. They'll be big brothers."
"Thank you. Do you think I did it?"
"No. Absolutely not."
"Thank you, Matthew."
43
White cartons of Chinese food, tops opened like flower petals, decorated Harry's kitchen table. Cynthia Cooper brought the delicacies, a ritual she and Harry shared on those Saturday nights when neither of them had a date.
Sometimes Miranda would join them but now that her Saturdays were filled, it was the two younger women.
"I can't eat another bite." Harry flipped a shrimp to Pewter with her chopsticks.
"I can!" Pewter gleefully caught the shrimp.
Mrs. Murphy chewed some cashew chicken while Tucker worked on pork lo mein.
The two humans folded back the tops, putting the cartons in the refrigerator. They took their coffee to the living room.
Harry sat in the wing chair. Cooper plopped on the sofa, stretching her feet to the coffee table. She could relax with Harry. She pulled an unfiltered Camel from her shirt pocket.
"Serious."
"It's Rick's fault." Cooper squinted as she lit up. "For the last three months he's switched brands hoping to cut back on the nicotine content. So instead of smoking one pack a day, he'd smoke three packs of the diet cigs. Then he reverted to the real deal but was still trying other brands. I don't know why. He said maybe if one of them tasted bad to him, he'd slow down. Finally, he went back to Camels. Swears they taste the best. I concur." She exhaled a blue curlicue. "I tried those different brands with him. Of course, the really expensive stuff, Dunhill, Shephard's Hotel, that's heaven but this is good. You never smoked, did you?"
"Once in a blue moon, I'll smoke my father's pipe. It's kind of soothing and it makes me think of Dad."
"I'm sorry I never met your father."
"He was a good guy. He knew a lot about the world. Very realistic but not, uh, cynical."
Harry smiled as the three animals came into the living room to clean faces, whiskers, one another.
A good grooming after a meal was essential to mental health, especially for Mrs. Murphy who had a vain streak.
"You think H.H.'s murder or Mychelle's has anything to do with drugs?" Harry switched back to the problem at hand.
"No."
"Me, neither."
"Then why'd you ask?" Cooper laughed.
"You're closer to the case than I am. You know things I don't."
"It's not drugs. The more we investigate the more it looks like lover's revenge."
"Anne?"
"Yes."
"That is so awful. I hope it's not true."
"When you get right down to it, I'm surprised that more women don't kill their husbands."
"Cynic."
Cooper swung her legs to the floor, leaned over and ground out her cigarette. "Maybe."
"Well, if it is Anne she was brilliant to kill him in front of everyone. Not so brilliant to kill Mychelle."
"No fingerprints. Not a scrap of physical evidence and no murder weapons."
"Ice. An ice bullet," Mrs. Murphy meowed loudly.
"Indigestion?" Harry glanced down at her tiger cat who was looking right up at her.
"I love you, Harry, but you can be so obtuse." Mrs. Murphy leapt onto Harry's lap.
"Don't waste your breath. If you get upset you will get indigestion," Pewter advised.
"We'll all be hungry in an hour anyway." Tucker delivered her assessment of Chinese food.
Pewter and Tucker scrambled onto the other end of the sofa, quickly settling down.
"Do you mind?"
"You ask?" Cooper laughed as she reached over to pet the two friends.
"I've been thinking."
"God, no." Cooper covered her face with her hands.
"The next girls' game is Tuesday. Wake Forest, I think. Well, it doesn't matter who the opponent is. These events, including the attack on Tracy, all happen during or after women's basketball games. Tonight's the men's game and I bet you nothing happens."
"So far nothing has happened except around the women's games, but we can't find a connection." She put her feet back up on the coffee table. "What's your idea?"
"I've ruled out gambling."
Cooper laughed. "Keep going."
"This Tuesday night why don't you and I and these guys stay in the Clam all night. The animals have much keener senses than we do."
"No way."
"You agree the site may be important."
"I don't know. I mean that. I don't know. H.H.'s murder was planned. I think Mychelle's was opportunistic."
"Yeah, well, what can it hurt to have us there overnight?"
"Tracy escaped with a knot on his head. Maybe he was lucky. I can't risk you or even me without Rick's approval. Besides, Harry, if he thought a surveillance was needed, he would assign someone to stay there at night after the game."
"Well-ask him."
"He'll blow his stack at me, not at you. By the time he reaches you he'll have cooled down enough for harsh words only."
"Chicken."
"I have to live with the man during work hours. You go talk to him first. You take the blast."
"Aha, you don't think it's a bad idea."
"I didn't say it was." Cooper knew that Irena Fotopappas, posing as a graduate student, was there during the day. No one was there all night. She'd bring it up to Rick but leave out Harry, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker. "But it's a dangerous idea. Most especially since we don't know what we're looking for. If we knew, say, it was a gambling ring and a player shaves points, we might be able to do it, but Harry, we don't know what's going on if it isn't Anne Donaldson. That's risky."
"I have a .38."
"You could have a bazooka. If you don't know what or who your target is, he might get you before you get him. If this isn't Anne it might be another lover. We might even know the woman. We'd be disarmed, off guard."
Harry dropped both arms over the side of the wing chair. "I still say we should stake out the place."
"I'll bring it up to the boss but don't try it-especially don't try it without me. This one scares me."
That really surprised Harry and it reflected in her voice. "Why?"
"If this is a crime of passion, then Anne Donaldson has more self-mastery than most of us as well as intelligence. If it isn't Anne, it's still someone who can dissemble with ease and who is frighteningly intelligent."
"Damn."
"Double damn." Cooper sighed.
They lapsed into silence, both staring into the fire, a blue edge surrounding the yellow flames.
"Harry, carry your .38 on Tuesday."
"Are we going to do it?"
"No, not exactly, but I'm going to call the people who sat behind H.H. to stay after the game. I have an idea. I'll ask three department people to sit in for H.H., Anne, and Cameron."
"What if she's given the tickets to friends, which I bet she has?"
"Doesn't matter. We'll do this right after the game."
"Cool." Harry beamed.
44
By Monday morning at eight-thirty, Tazio and Brinkley had already been at work for an hour. Tazio drove carefully to the office, too, because the roads were slick, the plowed snow on the side turning greasy gray.