'Maybe he forgot,' Becker said.
'You believe that?'
'Rudy's pretty lazy,' Becker said. 'But he's made a good living around here for the last thirty years. And he's probably noticed that if he runs his mouth a lot about nothing, and keeps it shut about anything that matters, things work out for him. Especially if it matters to the Clives.'
'Well,' I said. 'Now we've got a motive. If Penny knew the contents of that will and knew her father was about to change it and knew her father was going to acknowledge a son…'
'That's a lot of ifs,' Becker said.
'Maybe I can make them less iffy,' I said.
'If Penny was capable of murder,' Becker said.
'She's capable of Delroy,' I said.
'Good point. I wouldn't have believed that either if we didn't have to see it every time we looked.'
The bathroom door was open. From where I sat I could see Susan get out of the shower with a towel. She saw me looking at her and smiled and flipped the towel like a fan dancer. I grinned. She grinned. Male issue might be overrated.
'You do anything with Herb the tracker?'
Becker laughed.
'Kid couldn't track a bull through a china shop,' Becker said. 'I sent him straight over to Hector Tobin's repair shop to get his car in compliance. Last name ain't Simmons, by the way. It's Simpson.'
'Clever alias,' I said. 'You talked to Tedy Sapp at all?'
'Nope. He's got no time for me. He's too busy looking after the brood of refugees you dumped on him.'
'You know about that.'
'I sort of pay attention. I got nothing much else to do.'
'You ready to move on Penny?' I said.
''Cause you don't like her boyfriend? Or whatever he is.'
'She's got opportunity, and motive.'
'Un-huh.'
'She's got Delroy.'
'Un-huh,' Becker said. 'You got a murder weapon?'
'No.'
'Eyewitness?'
'No.'
'Fingerprints? Powder residue? Confession? Any of that kind of stuff?'
'If we can arrest somebody, and pressure somebody, we can turn somebody.'
'Sure, do it all the time with guys rob a convenience store. But these aren't guys robbed a convenience store. These are Clives. Gimme some evidence.'
'Maybe the sisters will be in shape to talk with me,' I said.
'I'd like to hear what her sisters have to say.'
'Okay. Everybody who is anybody is heading back down to Lamarr tomorrow. Me too. I'll talk to SueSue and Stonie this weekend.'
'I'm looking forward to it,' Becker said.
'Because you thirst for justice?'
'Because I always like to see what happens after somebody pokes a stick into a hornet's nest.'
We hung up and I sat for a bit in my chair, thinking and looking at Susan. With the towel contrived in some way to cover all areas of special interest to me, Susan was sitting in the sink in the bathroom, applying her makeup. I wasn't startled by her position anymore. She liked a lot of light and she liked to get close to the mirror and she was small enough so she could, and she took a long time putting on her makeup, so she sat in the sink. Once I'd asked her about it and she had turned the question back. 'Wouldn't you sit in the sink,' she had said, 'if you weren't so big and didn't fit?'
I was now at a point where I didn't understand why anyone wouldn't sit in the sink.
DOLLYHARTMAN'S COTTAGEin Saratoga was a cottage in name only. It had Greek Revival columns out front, and a big dining room with a fifteen-foot ceiling where hors d'oeuvres were spread upon a lace tablecloth, and champagne chilled in silver buckets. A couple of kids who would have looked comfortable in jeans looked quite uncomfortable in French maid outfits as they circulated through the house pouring champagne. Dolly was there being the hostess with the mostess in a gauzy white gown that had several layers and made her look vaguely like Little Bo-Peep. Her son, Jason, was with her, greeting guests, looking polished in a crisp black shirt buttoned to the neck, and black linen trousers. Susan got a glass of champagne, which she used mainly as a prop, and went to the buffet table, which, she knew, was where the action would be. People interested Susan. She also knew I needed to be alone with Dolly.
'How are you doing?' Dolly said.
