was alive when he left here, Al," I reminded him. "He talked to her on the phone. You think he drove home and killed her?"
"Doesn't seem likely, does it?" he said slowly. "But what really helps him is that there were no bloodstains on his clothes. I told you that place looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood everywhere. The killer had to get splashed. What was Gillsworth wearing when he left here?"
I thought a moment. "White linen sports jacket, pale blue polo shirt, light gray flannel slacks."
Rogoff nodded. "That's what he was wearing when we got there. And he looked fresh as a daisy. His clothes, I mean. Absolutely unstained. And he sure didn't have enough time to change into identical duds. Also, we searched the house. No bloodstained clothes anywhere."
We sipped our coffee, ate more cookies. The sergeant relighted his cold cigar.
"So Gillsworth is off the hook?" I asked.
"I didn't say that. He's probably clean, but I've got to check out the timing. A lot depends on that. How long did it take him to drive from here to his place? Also, what time did the victim leave the seance? How long would it take her to drive home? What time did she arrive? Was someone waiting for her? There's a lot I don't know. After I find out, maybe Gillsworth will be off the hook. Right now he's all I've got."
I stared at him. "Al, is there something you're not telling me?"
"Would I do that?"
"Sure you would," I said. "Look, I know this is your case. You wear the badge; you're the law. You can order me to butt out. You're entitled to do that. But I'm telling you now I'm not going to do it. That woman meant a lot to me. So no matter what you say, I'm going to keep digging."
He looked at me strangely. "That's okay," he said. "You stay on it. Just keep me up to speed-all right?"
We finished our coffee, went to the study where Rogoff collected the letters. When we came out into the hallway mother was waiting with a small overnight bag.
"I packed father's pajamas, robe, and slippers," she said. "And his shaving gear and a fresh shirt for tomorrow morning."
I'll never cease to be amazed at how practical women can be, even under stress. I imagine that when the flood came and Noah was herding everyone aboard the ark, Mrs. Noah plucked at his sleeve and asked, "Did you remember to empty the pan under the icebox?"
Rogoff took the little valise and promised to deliver it to father. This time I drove the open Miata; after inhaling Al's cigar, I wanted fresh air-lots of it.
We didn't speak on the trip back to the Gillsworth home. But when we arrived and the sergeant climbed out, he paused a moment.
"Archy, I know Roderick Gillsworth was your father's client. Was Mrs. Gillsworth?"
"Yes, she was."
"I hear she had plenty of money. Did your father draw her will?"
"I don't know, Al. Probably."
"Who inherits?"
"I don't know that either. Ask my father."
Then I drove back to the McNally fiefdom for the final time that night. I feared I'd have trouble getting to sleep but I didn't. First I recited a brief prayer for a noble lady. I consider myself an agnostic-but just in case. .
The weekend had started badly and didn't improve. The weather was no help; Saturday morning was dull and logy-just the way I felt when I awoke. I had an OJ, cinnamon bun, and coffee with Jamie Olson in the kitchen. He was wrapping a fresh Band-Aid around the cracked stem of his ancient briar. I had given him a gold-banded Dupont for Christmas, but he saved it for Sunday smoking.
"Heard about Mrs. Gillsworth," he said in a low voice. "Too bad."
"Yes," I said. "It was in the papers?"
"Uh-huh. And on the TV."
"Jamie, if you hear anything about enemies she may have had, or maybe an argument with someone, I wish you'd let me know."
"Sure," he said. "You asked about that Mrs. Wil-ligan."
"So I did. What about her?"
"She's got a guy."
"Oh?" I said and took a gulp of my coffee. "Where did you hear that?"
"Around."
"Know who it is?"
"Nope. No one knows."
"Then how do they
"Doesn't seem likely, does it?" he said slowly. "But what really helps him is that there were no bloodstains on his clothes. I told you that place looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood everywhere. The killer had to get splashed. What was Gillsworth wearing when he left here?"
I thought a moment. "White linen sports jacket, pale blue polo shirt, light gray flannel slacks."
Rogoff nodded. "That's what he was wearing when we got there. And he looked fresh as a daisy. His clothes, I mean. Absolutely unstained. And he sure didn't have enough time to change into identical duds. Also, we searched the house. No bloodstained clothes anywhere."
We sipped our coffee, ate more cookies. The sergeant relighted his cold cigar.
"So Gillsworth is off the hook?" I asked.
"I didn't say that. He's probably clean, but I've got to check out the timing. A lot depends on that. How long did it take him to drive from here to his place? Also, what time did the victim leave the seance? How long would it take her to drive home? What time did she arrive? Was someone waiting for her? There's a lot I don't know. After I find out, maybe Gillsworth will be off the hook. Right now he's all I've got."
I stared at him. "Al, is there something you're not telling me?"
"Would I do that?"
"Sure you would," I said. "Look, I know this is your case. You wear the badge; you're the law. You can order me to butt out. You're entitled to do that. But I'm telling you now I'm not going to do it. That woman meant a lot to me. So no matter what you say, I'm going to keep digging."
He looked at me strangely. "That's okay," he said. "You stay on it. Just keep me up to speed-all right?"
We finished our coffee, went to the study where Rogoff collected the letters. When we came out into the hallway mother was waiting with a small overnight bag.
"I packed father's pajamas, robe, and slippers," she said. "And his shaving gear and a fresh shirt for tomorrow morning."
I'll never cease to be amazed at how practical women can be, even under stress. I imagine that when the flood came and Noah was herding everyone aboard the ark, Mrs. Noah plucked at his sleeve and asked, "Did you remember to empty the pan under the icebox?"
Rogoff took the little valise and promised to deliver it to father. This time I drove the open Miata; after inhaling Al's cigar, I wanted fresh air-lots of it.
We didn't speak on the trip back to the Gillsworth home. But when we arrived and the sergeant climbed out, he paused a moment.
"Archy, I know Roderick Gillsworth was your father's client. Was Mrs. Gillsworth?"
"Yes, she was."
"I hear she had plenty of money. Did your father draw her will?"
"I don't know, Al. Probably."
"Who inherits?"
"I don't know that either. Ask my father."
Then I drove back to the McNally fiefdom for the final time that night. I feared I'd have trouble getting to sleep but I didn't. First I recited a brief prayer for a noble lady. I consider myself an agnostic-but just in case. .
The weekend had started badly and didn't improve. The weather was no help; Saturday morning was dull and logy-just the way I felt when I awoke. I had an OJ, cinnamon bun, and coffee with Jamie Olson in the kitchen. He was wrapping a fresh Band-Aid around the cracked stem of his ancient briar. I had given him a gold-banded Dupont for Christmas, but he saved it for Sunday smoking.
"Heard about Mrs. Gillsworth," he said in a low voice. "Too bad."
"Yes," I said. "It was in the papers?"
"Uh-huh. And on the TV."
"Jamie, if you hear anything about enemies she may have had, or maybe an argument with someone, I wish you'd let me know."
"Sure," he said. "You asked about that Mrs. Wil-ligan."
"So I did. What about her?"
"She's got a guy."
"Oh?" I said and took a gulp of my coffee. "Where did you hear that?"
"Around."
"Know who it is?"
"Nope. No one knows."
"Then how do they
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