conditioner in the window of Ruth Osborne's bedroom up above us. Timmy was draped along a chaise, his fiberglassed foot shining in the flickering light.
"The other thing," Timmy said, "is that maybe everybody on the board who's planning to vote to sell the Herald to the good chain and not the bad chain is safe now, and there won't be any more murder attempts. Even if neither Chester nor June is involved in a murder plot, word will get around that they have a shot at neutralizing Mrs. Osborne legally, so anybody who'd planned on killing Janet, Dan, or Mrs. Osborne might be willing to adopt a wait-and-see attitude."
"Oh yes," Dale said. "We could take a chance and let our guard down. What have we got to lose but another human being?"
Timmy muttered something indecipherable, and I said, "I thought we had an agreement, Dale."
"Whoops."
Janet said, "I think Dale is right that since both the future of the Herald and people's lives are at stake, we have to hope for the best but plan for the worst."
"That's an extremely generous interpretation of Dale's remarks," Timmy said, and in the dim light I glared at him. He caught this, and added, "But I believe both of you are entirely correct in your estimation that continued caution is in order."
"What I'm going to do," Janet said, "is talk to Slim Finn in the morning. He was Dad's lawyer and he's Mom's. I'm sure Chester's got somebody else intriguing away, probably his golfing partner, Morton Bond, and Slim will know how to get a mental competency hearing postponed for the five weeks we need until the board meets, or—failing a postponement—have the hearing held on a day when Mom is compos mentis. Meanwhile, I guess at least one of us needs to be here with her at all times. Whenever possible, two of us."
We all looked at each other, aware of which two of us would be most often available over the next week for a watch over Ruth Osborne. I said, "This job is critically important," and Timmy and Dale both gave me an indignant look that said, There's no need to treat us like children.
"I'm also going to get Mom's physician, Frank Whately, over here," Janet said, "to get an updated evaluation of her Alzheimer's, and the best short-term prognosis he can come up with. God, I just hate it that Mom is facing this horrible thing—and I'm facing this horrible thing with Mom—at exactly the same time all this other putrid crap is happening with the paper, and Eric being killed, and the Jet Ski attacks, and Eldon being in the hospital. It's just—it's too damned much."
We all agreed that it was, but we sat there helplessly, making vague, useless, sympathetic noises. It "was Janet who finally said, "At least Eldon is recovering from the Pneumocystis, and he's no longer psychotic now that he's off the prednisone. There's that good news anyway."
"He was a little groggy when we saw him tonight," Timmy said. "And I got the impression he didn't remember anything he said to us last night. I mean, none of that nasty stuff about. . . what happened after
high school. But he wasn't wild-eyed and crazy, and he did remember who I was, of course, and that I was there last night."
I said, "Of course."
Dale said, "Did either of you ask Eldon if he had any idea why Dan puked up his supper when he heard that there might be a connection between the sale of the Herald and Eric's murder?"
"Why would Skeeter know anything about that?" Timmy asked.
"Because he and Eric were sleeping together. Presumably they conversed about important matters."
Janet said, "Dan was completely devastated by Eric's death. I mean, we all were, and are—I still wake up in the night weeping when I dream about him. But at the time, it was Dan who really fell apart. And obviously he still hasn't recovered."
"Were Dan and Eric especially close?" I asked.
"In a messy, complicated way, they were," Janet said. "They'd been rivals for Dad's approval from the time they were toddlers. Of course, they were pretty much wasting their
"The other thing," Timmy said, "is that maybe everybody on the board who's planning to vote to sell the Herald to the good chain and not the bad chain is safe now, and there won't be any more murder attempts. Even if neither Chester nor June is involved in a murder plot, word will get around that they have a shot at neutralizing Mrs. Osborne legally, so anybody who'd planned on killing Janet, Dan, or Mrs. Osborne might be willing to adopt a wait-and-see attitude."
"Oh yes," Dale said. "We could take a chance and let our guard down. What have we got to lose but another human being?"
Timmy muttered something indecipherable, and I said, "I thought we had an agreement, Dale."
"Whoops."
Janet said, "I think Dale is right that since both the future of the Herald and people's lives are at stake, we have to hope for the best but plan for the worst."
"That's an extremely generous interpretation of Dale's remarks," Timmy said, and in the dim light I glared at him. He caught this, and added, "But I believe both of you are entirely correct in your estimation that continued caution is in order."
"What I'm going to do," Janet said, "is talk to Slim Finn in the morning. He was Dad's lawyer and he's Mom's. I'm sure Chester's got somebody else intriguing away, probably his golfing partner, Morton Bond, and Slim will know how to get a mental competency hearing postponed for the five weeks we need until the board meets, or—failing a postponement—have the hearing held on a day when Mom is compos mentis. Meanwhile, I guess at least one of us needs to be here with her at all times. Whenever possible, two of us."
We all looked at each other, aware of which two of us would be most often available over the next week for a watch over Ruth Osborne. I said, "This job is critically important," and Timmy and Dale both gave me an indignant look that said, There's no need to treat us like children.
"I'm also going to get Mom's physician, Frank Whately, over here," Janet said, "to get an updated evaluation of her Alzheimer's, and the best short-term prognosis he can come up with. God, I just hate it that Mom is facing this horrible thing—and I'm facing this horrible thing with Mom—at exactly the same time all this other putrid crap is happening with the paper, and Eric being killed, and the Jet Ski attacks, and Eldon being in the hospital. It's just—it's too damned much."
We all agreed that it was, but we sat there helplessly, making vague, useless, sympathetic noises. It "was Janet who finally said, "At least Eldon is recovering from the Pneumocystis, and he's no longer psychotic now that he's off the prednisone. There's that good news anyway."
"He was a little groggy when we saw him tonight," Timmy said. "And I got the impression he didn't remember anything he said to us last night. I mean, none of that nasty stuff about. . . what happened after
high school. But he wasn't wild-eyed and crazy, and he did remember who I was, of course, and that I was there last night."
I said, "Of course."
Dale said, "Did either of you ask Eldon if he had any idea why Dan puked up his supper when he heard that there might be a connection between the sale of the Herald and Eric's murder?"
"Why would Skeeter know anything about that?" Timmy asked.
"Because he and Eric were sleeping together. Presumably they conversed about important matters."
Janet said, "Dan was completely devastated by Eric's death. I mean, we all were, and are—I still wake up in the night weeping when I dream about him. But at the time, it was Dan who really fell apart. And obviously he still hasn't recovered."
"Were Dan and Eric especially close?" I asked.
"In a messy, complicated way, they were," Janet said. "They'd been rivals for Dad's approval from the time they were toddlers. Of course, they were pretty much wasting their
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