Quinlan walked calmly up to Scott Brainerd, pulled back his fist, and rammed it into his stomach. 'That's for Sally, Noelle, and me.'
Scott yelped, bent over, breathing like he'd been shot, his arms clutching his middle.
'Sally,' Quinlan said, rubbing his knuckles, wanting to hit Scott Brainerd again but knowing it wouldn't be smart, 'one of my sisters-in-law is a lawyer. She'll handle the paperwork on the divorce. Severing ties with this slug shouldn't be difficult. It takes six months. Maybe I should kill him. You want to try running away, Scott?'
'Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you guys, the FBI is also all over the private books in Amory St. John's firm.
They've been doing that for a while now. That's the real reason the FBI is involved in the first place. It's all delicate stuff, so that's why we've kept it under wraps, but there's no reason for you not to know.
'Selling arms to places like Algeria, Iraq, and Libya- well, we do tend to frown on stunts like that. And that's got to be the other reason, Sally, that your father and your husband locked you away. They must have believed that you would say something incriminating, something to prove that they were traitors.'
'But I never saw a thing, never,' Sally said. 'Is that it, Scott?'
'No, damn you. I didn't have a thing to do with that.'
'And her father manipulated you into coming on to Sally, into marrying her?'
'No, that's not true. All right, so I did agree to have her put away. That's because I believed she was sick.'
'Why did you believe I was sick, Scott?'
He didn't say anything, just waved his pipe at her. 'You weren't a good wife. Your dad swore to me that your career was just something for you to do until you got married. He said you were just like your mother, a woman who really wanted a husband to take care of and children to look after. I wanted a wife to stay home and take care of me, but you wouldn't do it. I needed you there, to help me, to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
understand me, but no, you never stayed there for me.'
'That doesn't make her sick, Scott,' Quinlan said.
'I refuse to say anything more about it,' Scott said.
'Why am I not surprised that he was a traitor?' said Noelle. 'But I'm not. Then maybe one of his clients murdered him. Maybe it wasn't Sally after all. Such a pity it wasn't Scott who murdered him. That's what you were, isn't it, Scott, you pathetic jerk?'
Good, Quinlan thought, she was trying to explain her husband's murder another way. He was pleased.
He said, 'That's what he was, Mrs. St. John. Now, you said you walked in here with Scott and found Sally literally standing over him with the smoking gun.'
Noelle was frowning, her mouth working. She was thinking real hard. 'Well, yes, but she said that she'd heard the shot and come running. She said she had picked the gun up. She said she was here to get money from me and leave.'
Quinlan pulled a folded piece of paper out of his breast pocket. He unfolded it and scanned it. “This is your statement to the cops, Noelle. No mention of Sally. Too bad a neighbor reported seeing her running from the house. But you tried, Noelle, you tried.
'Were you really with Scott that night? Did you really run in here with him to see Sally over your husband's body?'
Scott threw his pipe at the fireplace. It fell with a loud crack against the marble hearth. 'Damn you! Of course I was with her! I was with her all evening.'
Scott was still rubbing his belly, and that made Quinlan feel good. That damned bloody little worm. He turned back to Noelle.
'I'm pleased you tried to protect Sally. But I did wonder if you weren't in it along with these other sterling characters.'
'I don't blame you,' Noelle said. 'I'd think I was a jerk too. But I'm not. I'm just plain stupid.'
Sally smiled at her mother. 'I'm stupid too. I married Scott, didn't I? Just take a good look at him.'
Quinlan said, 'Listen, Noelle. Only a real bad person would turn on her daughter after what she tried to do for you since she was sixteen. She was just a girl, and yet she tried to protect you. I want you to tell me this isn't true. Tell me you didn't kill your husband. Tell me you didn't kill that monster who'd been abusing you.'
'I didn't kill him, I didn't. Oh, God, you believe me, don't you, Sally? You don't believe I killed your father, do you?'
There was no hesitation. Sally took her mother in her arms. 'I believe you.'
'But there's so much more, Sally,' Quinlan said, his voice soft and smooth, the promise of truth in that voice.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
'It's time now to get it all out. I want you to think back now. Look at Noelle and think back to that night.'
Sally drew back, her eyes on her mother. Then, slowly, she turned to Quinlan. 'I now have a clear picture of my father, lying right over there, blood all over his chest. I'm sorry, James, but I don't remember anything else.'
'Your mother said you had a gun. You don't remember taking the gun with you, Sally?'
She started to shake her head, then she stared down at her brown boots.
Quinlan said, 'It was an antique Roth-Steyr pistol your father probably bought off an old English soldier from World War I. It has a ten-round clip, ugly devil, about nine inches long.'
