THE DEEP END by Julie Mulhern

Ballew?”
    “She was there with John. She looked pale but then again, when doesn’t she? Dreadful hat.” He tilted his head to the side. “Do you know something? Spill.”
    Clever, urbane Powers, who belonged in New York and stayed in Kansas City to keep Bitty Sue happy, loved a scandal. I wasn’t going to provide him with one.
    “I don’t know a thing.” I ignored the itch on the tip of my nose.
    He stared at me, probably searching for tells. I stared at the truly awful watercolor someone had hung on the wall and thought about the seventh hole at Pebble Beach. The view of the Pacific was awe-inspiring.
    After a moment, he ceded defeat. “Everyone was speculating on who killed her.”
    “Who’s the lead suspect?”
    Powers flushed and his grape green gaze dropped from my face to his lap.
    I was the lead suspect. At least among the country club set. My breath whooshed out of my chest and I collapsed against the stack of pillows behind me.
    “No one blames you. Everyone thinks she had it coming.”
    “I didn’t kill her.”
    “Of course you didn’t.” He reached forward and patted my hand then his nose twitched.
    Oh dear Lord. If Powers didn’t believe in my innocence, what hope had I that anyone else would? If Detective Jones didn’t catch the murderer, I’d spend the rest of my life under a cloud of suspicion.
    Powers gave me a second pat. “It’s not like you’re the only suspect. There was a large contingent who thought Roger finally cracked. I can tell you, bringing a date to his wife’s funeral did nothing to change their minds.” Powers stared at the buffed sheen of his nails. “There’s a fair number who think that Henry did it.”
    The coffee stopped bubbling and started churning. Poor Grace. Both her parents were murder suspects—at least in the eyes of her friends’ parents. “I have to find out who killed Madeline.”
    “Isn’t that a job for the delectable detective?”
    It was. If Roger, Henry, and I were the prime suspects, he had a problem. I hadn’t killed Madeline. I was ninety-nine percent sure Roger hadn’t either. I was really, really hoping that Henry had a valid reason for disappearing the morning after his mistress’s body was found floating in a pool. If Prudence or Kitty or any of the other wives at the club had drugged then drowned Madeline, I didn’t like his chances of catching them. Any one of them could disappear behind a wall of waspy silence and expensive lawyers. “I’m going to do it anyway.”
    “Ells, is that wise?” Powers shook his blond mane. “Madeline was murdered. I think you should retire to your atelier and paint.”
    Nurse Sally walked in before I could tell him what I thought of his idea. She peeled back my eyelids, half-blinded me with a pen light, wrote cryptic notes on my chart then asked how we were feeling.
    “Fine.”
    She nodded and walked out.
    “Who was that?”
    “Nurse Sally.”
    “Nonsense. That was the Zodiac Killer in disguise. Are you well enough to get out of here?”
    “I think so.”
    “Then why are you still here?”
    An excellent question. The only thing keeping me in a hospital bed and a rear vented gown was Mother’s edict. In the face of another night with Nurse Sally, risking Mother’s wrath by deviating from her plan didn’t seem so terrible. In fact, I didn’t particularly care if she got angry. I wanted out.
    I paused. Not caring about Mother’s reaction was totally new.
    “Well?” Powers drummed his fingers on his leg.
    “I don’t know. Mother wants me to stay.”
    He rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown woman, you’re a mother, hell, you’re a murder suspect, decide what you want.”
    He was right. About everything. What I wanted was to go home. “Would you please find Nurse Sally and ask her about discharge papers?”
    He grinned. “Atta girl.”
    “You say that now. Wait ’til Mother has a coronary.”
    “I’ll deny everything.”
    I raised a brow. “You think she’ll believe