Nothing but Gossip by Marne Davis Kellogg Page B

interested in is who attempted to murder Alma Rutherford Gilhooly night before last.”
    “And you suspect Mr. McGee?”
    “At the moment, the field is wide open. Yesterday, Mr. McGee denied being at the party, but I believe he was, and I’d like to give him an opportunity to search his memory again and possibly correct his story. Maybe he saw something that could be helpful.”
    McGee glanced at Paul and clenched his teeth, which made his bony jaw tighten and ripple. He clenched and unclenched his fist as well. But, to me, the Great White Hunter’s handsomeness must have existed only in the context of his work. With him sitting in my little jail, lacking admirers, his chiseled features appeared sharp and cruel. Slightly counterfeit and scummy. Paul gave him the green light to answer.
    “I was in the sun-room with everyone else,” he said. “I heard the shot the same time everyone else did.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me the truth in the first place?”
    “Because there is some serious bad blood between Alma and me and a number of legitimate reasons why I should want to kill her. But I didn’t.”
    “Do you remember who you were talking to?”
    “Some woman. I don’t remember her name.”
    “Mercedes Rutherford?”
    “Alma’s sister?” Kennedy shook his head. “I didn’t even know she was there.”
    “When I saw Mercedes at the party, sir, she excused herself to go tell you something. Are you saying you never saw her?”
    “I said I didn’t know she was there.” Kennedy clearly did not like being questioned by a woman and kept looking to his attorney for some assistance, for Paul to call a halt. But I wasn’t doing anything irregular—Paul and I both knew the rules—other than being female, and in charge, which I imagined was a whole new experience for him.
    “Mr. McGee, did you rendezvous with Mercedes Rutherford and Johnny Bourbon in a powder room for a quick assignation?”
    “What?” Kennedy jumped to his feet, making Dwight tighten up a little and squint a little harder at his prisoner from where he’d stationed himself importantly at the door. Great, I thought, all we needed was for Dwight to start shooting. He’d kill all of us.
    “What do you take me for? Some bloody homosexual? Of course I wasn’t in the bathroom with her and that slippery quack. Jesus, Lord, makes my skin crawl just to imagine such a thing.” Kennedy walked around the small room hugging himself. “Lord. You’re a terrible woman.”
    It had been a shot in the dark, but not an unreasonable one, in my opinion. “Tell me about your relationship with Alma.”
    “Not much to tell, not much relationship left after she screwed me. Financially.” He grabbed the chair back with both hands and leaned over it toward me. “Let me tell you, Miss Bennett, Alma is a completelypsychotic bitch. Totally mad. Everything’s dandy as long as you play by her rules, but she is always moving the goal line and not letting anyone know. I’m not at all surprised someone gunned her down—could even have been the Russians. Maybe she ended up screwing them, too. But it sure as hell wasn’t me. I wouldn’t miss with the first shot. Whoever shot her didn’t know what he was doing.”
    “What about her relationship with Wade?”
    Kennedy shrugged and sat back down. “Not much there as far as I could tell. Whenever they came to Africa, he always found an excuse to leave after the first couple of days—always some business emergency. Never even came out into the bush. He’d just leave her there with me and take off. She’d complete the safari, usually three or four weeks. I’ve always found him to be a little soft.”
    I flipped back and forth through my notes. “What do you know about her and Johnny Bourbon?”
    “Nothing, except he was her next big project after she left me holding the bag.”
    “Senator Fletcher?”
    “Seems a nice-enough chap.”
    “Do you own stock in Rutherford Oil?”
    “A little.” He looked at me and