Amy Squires hadn’t had her accident at the dealership that night until two hours later.
The Tudor was dark except for a faint light in a distant room on the ground floor. In the whipping wind and heavy mist, the house looked like a fortress of civilization standing bravely against the chaos of the darkness.
I pulled up to the garage and went up to the front door. I’d forgotten how heavy the shield-shaped knocker was. It pounded twice against the night.
She didn’t come for several minutes, but I could hear somebody moving around so I waited for her. She was in shadow so deep I couldn’t see anything but a faint shape when the door was finally opened. “Hello, Sam.”
“Hi, Mrs. Keys. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”
“I had to take the phone off the hook.
Everyone calling to wish me well and tell me how much they loved him.” Her voice trembled with tears.
“I feel the same way. He was a good man.”
“He certainly was.”
I snapped my fingers. “Say, I was just down at the garage and they told me to tell you your tire is ready.”
“Oh. Yes. The tire. I’d forgotten about it.”
“Seems you ran over that taillight too.”
“Yes, I guess I must have.” She was on autopilot. Not thinking of what she was saying.
“And that’s kinda funny, you know.”
“What is, Sam?”
“That you ran over that taillight before seven-thirty sometime.”
“I guess I’m not following you.”
“Didn’t you tell me the other day that you were down at the dealership till seven-thirty and then you came home for the rest of the night?”
“Gosh, Sam, if you say so.”
“Well, I talked to the woman who broke the taillight, and she didn’t have the accident until around nine- thirty. You see what I’m saying, Mrs. Keys?”
Hesitation. Now she was fully engaged. No more autopilot. Cautious. “No. No, I guess I don’t, Sam.”
“It’s just that it would’ve been hard to get a flat tire when the accident hadn’t even happened yet.”
“And you’re saying what exactly?”
I still couldn’t see her. She was a night being, a disembodied voice.
“I don’t know what I’m saying exactly, Mrs. Keys. I thought maybe you could help me.”
“I’d like you to leave. I don’t think I like you anymore, Sam.”
“He felt so guilty about you,
Mrs. Keys, that you know what I think?”
“I don’t care what you think.” She started to shut the door.
I had to say it fast. “I think you murdered those two people and he covered for you. I think it was the only way he felt he could pay you back for your lives together. He really felt terrible about not loving you, Mrs. Keys.”
The longest silence I could ever remember. The door stopped halfway open. Then: “He really said that to you? About feeling terrible?”
“He said it several times, in fact.”
“I loved him so much, Sam.”
“I know.”
“And when David Squires threatened to tell everybody about the daughter Dick and Susan Squires had… All I had left was my dignity, Sam.” She was just then starting to cry, but it was a hard, dry sound. I suspected she’d been crying most of the day and there wasn’t much left. “I didn’t want to end my life in scandal. People always said he married me for my money. And I suspect he did. But he always made sure I had my dignity. He ran around, but he did it out of town and he never told anybody. I really appreciated that. I really did. And I believe he respected me too.”
“He did.”
“And genuinely liked me.”
“He liked you very much.”
“Maybe if I could’ve given him children-”
I eased open the screen door and took her in my arms. She found a lot more tears than I would’ve thought possible.
I put her on the couch and found a winter coat in the front closet to use as a blanket and then went to the bar and poured us both a Scotch.
My first impulse was to call the Judge and tell her what had happened. But I couldn’t do it. Mrs. Keys needed a good night’s rest.
“Took a lot of strength to get Susan in the trunk and drag Squires out of the cable car,” I said.
She said, “I was always strong for my size athletic.” Then: “Do we have to go right away?”
“Not right away.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Actually, yes, I am.”
“I make a mean breakfast. Not lunch or dinner, but breakfast. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good.”
I sat in the big fashionable kitchen watching her make bacon, eggs, and hash browns. The scents were seductive as hell.
And as she cooked, she talked. “He took much better care of me than he thought, Sam.
He didn’t love me but he respected me and he kept me from being hurt. I know how plain I am. But he was always telling me how attractive I looked.” She glanced at me and smiled.
“He even had me half believing it. He was a very good talker, as you know.”
I set the table in the breakfast nook. She brought over the food and I brought over the coffee.
We sat down and ate.
“I’m not scared,” she said, after we’d forked through our food for a while. “I know I probably should be.”
“You’re a good risk for bail. You won’t be in jail long.”
She looked over at me, and I was reminded again of a Roman sculpture. Dick hadn’t been just flattering her. She really. was an attractive woman. Much more attractive the older she got.
“I’ll be spending the rest of my life in prison, won’t I?”
“I really can’t say.”
“But if you had to bet-”
I shrugged. “I’m not much for betting, I guess.”
“How’s the food?”
“Great.”
“I’m going to give Chalmers and Ellie a lot of money.”
“They’re good people.”
“Yes. As unlikely as it seems, he is in fact a good man. And she’s a great kid.
Dick loved her very much.”
“Yeah, I think he did.”
I poured us some more coffee.
“Would you like to be my lawyer?”
I smiled. “That’s very nice of you. But you need a hotshot.”
“Do you know any hotshots?”
“A good one in Cedar Rapids.”
“Would you be willing to call him before you call Cliffie?”
“I really need to call him after I call Cliffie. To keep things kosher with the law, I mean.”
She had a nice, weary smile. “Then that’s what we’ll do, isn’t it?” Then: “I’m sorry I killed them, you know. I
