CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Susan’s eyes were big and dark and brilliant with interest. “You think Ann Kiley recruited the DeRosa man?”
“Yes.”
“If Marvin Conroy and Ann Kiley are so deeply in love that she’ll supply thugs, and bail them out afterwards,” Susan said, “would he leave without a word and she not know where he was?”
“Maybe she was the only one deeply in love,” I said.
“Maybe,” Susan said. “But it might be worth keeping an eye on her.”
I smiled, and said, “Great idea.”
Susan studied my face for a moment. “You’re already doing that, aren’t you?”
I shrugged.
“Not Hawk,” Susan said. “He’s watching you.”
I shrugged again.
“Vinnie?”
“Yeah.”
“Vinnie is watching Ann Kiley.”
“I thought it would be good if we knew where she went and who she talked to, and maybe offer a little protection.”
“I thought her father was arranging protection.”
“He was, but, you know, Vinnie is pretty good.”
“Depends how you define good,” Susan said.
“He’s the best shooter I ever saw,” I said.
“That’s how I thought you’d define it,” Susan said.
I was on a stool in Susan’s kitchen, supervising as she made egg salad for sandwiches. She was spooning Miracle Whip into a bowl with the hard-boiled eggs. Pearl was lying on her couch across the room, aging, but still alert to the possibility of a spoon to lick.
“I didn’t know they made Miracle Whip anymore,” I said.
“They do.”
“Many people use mayo,” I said.
“Miracle Whip makes a much better egg salad,” she said.
I nodded.
“You ever think of mixing in some chopped green peppers?” I said.
“No,” she said.
“I like a person clear on their preferences,” I said.
“Me too. Have you found any intersection between Mary Smith and the Levesque person on one hand, and Conroy and Ann Kiley and that group on the other?”
“Nathan Smith,” I said.
“Besides that,” Susan said.
“No.”
“Maybe there isn’t one,” she said.
“Sometimes I snip a few chives into the egg salad,” I said.
“I don’t,” she said. She stirred some chopped celery into the egg and Miracle Whip mixture.
“You think she killed her husband?”
“Looks like it,” I said. “The gun she gave Levesque to get rid of is the one that killed him.”
“Do you think Marvin Conroy is the one who killed all these other people?”
“He’s involved,” I said. “Soldiers Field Development might have something to do with it, too.”
“To do with what?” Susan said.
She spread out five slices of white bread and began to spread each with her egg-salad mixture.
“White bread?” I said.
“You eat egg salad on white bread,” Susan said. “What is it that Conroy and Soldiers Field had something to do with?”
“I don’t know. Something, I would guess, to do with real estate and mortgage money fraud.”
“Because it’s a bank and a development company.”
“Because of that,” I said. “I still need to talk with the guy that got beat up, Bisbee.”
