“Maybe,” Jesse said. “She have children?”
“No.”
“Is Longley her maiden name or married name?”
“Married.”
“What was her maiden name?” Jesse said.
“Young, and I think you’re supposed to call it her birth name.”
“Sure,” Jesse said. “Her ex-husband disown her, too?”
“Yep.”
“Everybody—father, mother, brothers, ex-husband.”
“Sinful is sinful,” Healy said.
“I wonder if one of them killed him for embodying the Antichrist, and her for carrying his baby.”
“And they shot them instead of stoning them to death?”
Healy said.
“Just a thought,” Jesse said.
“It’s not a bad one,” Healy said. “Except according to Morrissey they all had alibis for the time she died.”
“So does everyone else,” Jesse said.
“Ex-wives?” Healy said.
“Yep. And the researcher and the manager and the lawyer.”
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“How about his bodyguard?” Healy said.
“Lutz? The day the ME says they died, the house dick at the hotel says Lutz had breakfast in the dining room, hung in the lobby all morning with a newspaper. He ate lunch in the dining room. Sat in the lobby, chatted up the doorman, used the health club, had a couple drinks in the bar, ordered room service for dinner and a movie and made two phone calls. He never left the hotel.”
“Sounds like he wanted to be able to prove he was there,”
Healy said.
“It does,” Jesse said. “And he was.”
Healy nodded. Jesse turned the coffee mug slowly in his hands. Healy was neat and quiet in the chair across from him. Tan summer suit, blue shirt, tan tie with diagonal blue stripes, snap-brimmed summer straw hat with a big blue band.
“Two people murdered,” Jesse said. “One of them famous. And no one appears to care at all.”
“Except the first wife,” Healy said.
Jesse nodded and looked out the window at the transmitter trucks parked near the station.
“And the Fourth Estate,” he said.
“I don’t think they care about Carey and Walton,” Healy said.
