so you agreed to take the Harkey story out of the book. But you researched it, so you met Wayne Harkey?”
“Yes. The interview did not go well. It was Wayne Harkey who wrote the threatening letter to Winslow, but the older brother seems to have taken charge of the whole issue. He’s suing Winslow. He’s a lawyer.”
“Whoa! Never scam a lawyer’s mother!”
“Right. Big brother Bob has managed to get through to Wayne the value of keeping his mouth shut. So he didn’t have much to tell me. But when he realized I was working on a book, he told me that there had better not be anything about the Harkey family in it, on pain of lawsuit. Big brother followed up with a letter to my publisher, and there we are.”
“So you’re saying that Wayne and Bob Harkey aren’t likely to want to talk to you.”
“Not likely. I wonder what Winslow’s death does to the status of the lawsuit?”
“They’ll probably just continue the suit against the estate.”
“Probably. I can’t see a lawyer giving up when there was still money left,” Mary said cynically. “But you might get in to see them. You’re a possible victim of Winslow’s shenanigans yourself; they might feel like you were part of the same victim group.”
“Oh, boy, just what I always wanted; membership in a victim group.”
Mary laughed. “If you are inclined to go looking for them, you would probably find that you are a member of many victim groups. For starters, you’re a woman. Then you were a military wife and widow. Freelance writer, now there’s a victim group! I did an article on the culture of victimhood. That piece got me more hate mail than anything I’ve ever done.”
“So you think Wayne might talk to me?”
“The worst that can happen is that he says no,” she pointed out.
“I like that attitude,” I told her.
So after Mary left (“places to go, things to do, people to meet”, she said vaguely), I called the number she had given me for Wayne Harkey.
He was a suspicious man. “Are you with the police?” he asked when I introduced myself.
“No,” I explained carefully. “I’m the person who found Winslow’s body. Someone stabbed him on our property. I’m worried that the police might try to blame me or my family.”
“How did you hear about me, anyway?”
“Oh, I’m a writer – word gets around.”
That didn’t fool him for a minute. “You’re been talking to that gook reporter lady, haven’t you?”
I was glad he couldn’t see me wince at the slur. “Mary Nguyen has been very helpful to me, Mr. Harkey. Winslow came here several days before he died, claiming that my husband was still alive. Mary has done a lot of research on Winslow.”
“So your husband was in Nam?” Now I had his interest.
“Yes, but he was reported killed, not missing. I’d like to meet you, find out what you know about Winslow. It might help find out who would want to kill him.”
He laughed sharply. “Besides me, you mean? Well, come on by this afternoon. Around 4:30. That’s before I go to work, and Mom will be getting her hair done.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want her bothered about this.”
I was writing busily. “Where are you? I’m down in Passatonnack County. Could I get there by 4:30?”
“Sure, we’re in Reston.” He gave me the address.
After I hung up, I called Julia for reinforcements. I was feeling shy about quizzing total strangers about their personal lives, but knew that Julia would have no qualms. Sure enough, she was up for the expedition.
“My car,” Julia said when she pulled up. I wasn’t going to argue. I got in and patted the plush seats as we pulled out of the yard.
No one who had seen Julia’s office would consider her house-proud, so she must be car-proud. This vehicle was always immaculate. Even the Doctors Foster and Smith car seat covers seemed devoid of dog hair. I can only guess that she launders them every other day. I admire her persistence, but I gave up the pet hair
“Yes. The interview did not go well. It was Wayne Harkey who wrote the threatening letter to Winslow, but the older brother seems to have taken charge of the whole issue. He’s suing Winslow. He’s a lawyer.”
“Whoa! Never scam a lawyer’s mother!”
“Right. Big brother Bob has managed to get through to Wayne the value of keeping his mouth shut. So he didn’t have much to tell me. But when he realized I was working on a book, he told me that there had better not be anything about the Harkey family in it, on pain of lawsuit. Big brother followed up with a letter to my publisher, and there we are.”
“So you’re saying that Wayne and Bob Harkey aren’t likely to want to talk to you.”
“Not likely. I wonder what Winslow’s death does to the status of the lawsuit?”
“They’ll probably just continue the suit against the estate.”
“Probably. I can’t see a lawyer giving up when there was still money left,” Mary said cynically. “But you might get in to see them. You’re a possible victim of Winslow’s shenanigans yourself; they might feel like you were part of the same victim group.”
“Oh, boy, just what I always wanted; membership in a victim group.”
Mary laughed. “If you are inclined to go looking for them, you would probably find that you are a member of many victim groups. For starters, you’re a woman. Then you were a military wife and widow. Freelance writer, now there’s a victim group! I did an article on the culture of victimhood. That piece got me more hate mail than anything I’ve ever done.”
“So you think Wayne might talk to me?”
“The worst that can happen is that he says no,” she pointed out.
“I like that attitude,” I told her.
So after Mary left (“places to go, things to do, people to meet”, she said vaguely), I called the number she had given me for Wayne Harkey.
He was a suspicious man. “Are you with the police?” he asked when I introduced myself.
“No,” I explained carefully. “I’m the person who found Winslow’s body. Someone stabbed him on our property. I’m worried that the police might try to blame me or my family.”
“How did you hear about me, anyway?”
“Oh, I’m a writer – word gets around.”
That didn’t fool him for a minute. “You’re been talking to that gook reporter lady, haven’t you?”
I was glad he couldn’t see me wince at the slur. “Mary Nguyen has been very helpful to me, Mr. Harkey. Winslow came here several days before he died, claiming that my husband was still alive. Mary has done a lot of research on Winslow.”
“So your husband was in Nam?” Now I had his interest.
“Yes, but he was reported killed, not missing. I’d like to meet you, find out what you know about Winslow. It might help find out who would want to kill him.”
He laughed sharply. “Besides me, you mean? Well, come on by this afternoon. Around 4:30. That’s before I go to work, and Mom will be getting her hair done.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want her bothered about this.”
I was writing busily. “Where are you? I’m down in Passatonnack County. Could I get there by 4:30?”
“Sure, we’re in Reston.” He gave me the address.
After I hung up, I called Julia for reinforcements. I was feeling shy about quizzing total strangers about their personal lives, but knew that Julia would have no qualms. Sure enough, she was up for the expedition.
“My car,” Julia said when she pulled up. I wasn’t going to argue. I got in and patted the plush seats as we pulled out of the yard.
No one who had seen Julia’s office would consider her house-proud, so she must be car-proud. This vehicle was always immaculate. Even the Doctors Foster and Smith car seat covers seemed devoid of dog hair. I can only guess that she launders them every other day. I admire her persistence, but I gave up the pet hair
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