can’t believe it. Dead! Dear Cliff.” After about ten seconds, during which time no one spoke, she looked up. “Don’t tell me he crashed the Mercedes! Oh, please, not the car!”
Sarkisian, who’d been glaring at me, transferred his disapproving look to Cindy. “Not the car.”
“Thank God for that, at least.” She leaned back against the cushions, extended her long legs in front of her, and dabbed at dry eyes with the corner of the tissue. “How did it happen, then?”
Sarkisian cleared his throat. “I’m afraid he was murdered.”
“Mur- Oh, no. But who…? I can’t believe it!”
She wailed on, but I didn’t listen. In my opinion, Cindy Brody could use some acting lessons. I’d swear her predominating emotion was satisfaction, not shock, though to her credit, I sensed distress, as well. Or was that just uneasiness?
Definitely unease. And she hadn’t asked how, when, or where her husband had been murdered. The news had come as no surprise to her. She’d known. But how?
I allowed my gaze to travel down Cindy’s jean-clad legs-damn, I’d give anything to be able to squeeze into a size that small-until I hit the ankles. Something brown smeared around the rolled hem at the bottom. Mud? The small expanse of dark blue nylon stockings didn’t offer any clues. I shifted in my seat to get a glimpse of the soles of her running shoes. Mud, all right. Streaked and mostly wiped off, but definitely mud.
Cindy had her face buried in her tissue again, this time adding an artistic sniff. I gestured at Sarkisian, catching his eye. He glanced at me, and I pointed at Cindy’s feet. He signaled me to be still, but checked out the mud for himself. It was a pity there wouldn’t be any readable footprints around Aunt Gerda’s house. The heavy rains had done too thorough a job of saturating the soil and smearing any clues.
Cindy looked up and managed a trembling smile. “It’s very kind of you-of both of you-to bring me the news. I didn’t even know you were home, Annike.”
“I just got here. It’s a terrible night to be out driving, isn’t it?”
Cindy nodded. “That’s why I stayed in.”
“You did?” I kept the skepticism out of my voice, but it wasn’t easy. “What have you been doing?”
“Preparing for Thanksgiving. I’ve got out-of-town guests arriving tomorrow, so everything’s going to be chaos. I thought I’d get a jump on it by starting this evening.”
“Guests?” My compassion surged to the forefront. “Look, would you like me to call them for you? Break the news? I know how hard it can be telling people.”
Cindy shook her head. “I’ll let them know when they get here.”
“Get…” I blinked. “You mean you still want them to come?”
“After all this work? I’m not about to call it off, now.”
“No, of course not,” I murmured, taken aback. I glanced at Sarkisian, but he said nothing, merely sitting there with a sympathetic expression plastered on his face. I turned back to Cindy. “All that work,” I agreed in what I hoped was a commiserating tone. “Is that why you resigned as event-coordinator?”
Cindy’s mouth tightened. “Your aunt told you about that, did she? It was the only thing I could do! There was no way I could get ready for my friends when I was forever running around on the most ridiculous errands. Have you seen the lists they’ve all made up?”
“I’m about to. They elected me to take over.”
Cindy gave a short laugh. “You have my condolences. If you want some advice, don’t go anywhere near Peggy. Don’t even listen to that woman! She’s list-crazy.”
Sarkisian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve had a shock, Ms. Brody.”
Cindy jerked her head around to look at him. “Oh, God, yes. Am I babbling?” She resorted to her tissue once more, then began shredding it. “I’m sorry, it’s just that anything is better than talking about…about Cliff. I mean, just because I couldn’t bear to live with him any more doesn’t mean I can face the fact he’s dead. It’s…” She broke off and shuddered.
“You need some brandy,” Sarkisian announced. “Got some? Ms. McKinley, you stay with her while I go and find some. In the kitchen?”
“That’s very kind of you. In the dining room. There’re some decanters on the sideboard. Bring snifters for you two, as well.”
He nodded. “You keep an eye on her, Ms. McKinley.”
He put enough edge in these last words so that even an idiot must know he meant something special by it. Luckily, Cindy Brody appeared too preoccupied to notice. I moved to the sofa so Cindy would have to turn away from the door to the dining room.
I pinned a false smile on my face. “This is a lovely house, Cindy. Much nicer than just getting an apartment.”
Cindy took the bait. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, but Cliff… Well, he never wanted to spend money for something like this. He said he preferred antique country charm.”
“Drafty houses always falling apart,” I interpreted. Over Cindy’s shoulder, I glimpsed Sarkisian passing through the dining room and peering through another doorway beyond. He disappeared through it. I rushed into speech as a faint creak of hinges reached me. “I never understood how he could have so much money and never let you spend any of it.”
Cindy’s eyes gleamed, she started to speak, then shut her mouth tight. After a moment, she mopped her dry eyes again. “Dear Cliff, he was certainly an original. It’s sad we developed different goals in life.”
True. He liked to amass money, she liked to spend it.
“We’ve gotten along much better since we separated,” Cindy went on. “Isn’t that odd? But I understand it happens a lot. We really cared about each other, you know. We just weren’t made to live together. You weren’t married long enough to reach that stage, I suppose.”
Thanks for the reminder, I reflected, and chalked up one more reason to dislike Cindy Brody. With an effort, I forced my smile to remain firmly in place. “What will you do now? Stay here?”
“Ummm.” Cindy’s gaze roamed around the living room. “Right here. I made sure I had an option to buy.”
“I thought you weren’t expecting much in the divorce settlement!” I blurted out, then could have bitten my tongue.
Cindy waved that aside. “Oh, you know how Cliff talked. All he really wanted was for me to forget about the divorce and go back to him. I always knew he’d come down handsomely in the end.”
She was the only one who did, then, according to Aunt Gerda. And that certainly wasn’t the opinion Cindy’d been voicing all over Upper River Gulch. What was keeping Sarkisian? I searched for another topic to keep Cindy busy. “How long are your friends staying?”
“Only a few days, but you know what company is like. You want everything to be perfect.”
With relief, I saw Sarkisian reappear. He vanished again, but this time I heard the chink of crystal. “I suppose you’ve been baking pies and bread. Aunt Gerda always raves about your pies.” That the crusts were from the freezer department of a grocery store, that Cindy relied on sugar to try to cover up for canned ingredients, and that she had no imagination with the spices, but I didn’t mention that.
Cindy looked over her shoulder. “Where… Ah, here he comes. Only two brandies, Sheriff?”
“I’m on duty. And I’m driving.” He handed over the glasses. “Are you going to be all right, Ms. Brody? Would you like us to call anyone to come and stay with you?”
Cindy took a sip of the rich amber liquid. “No. I’ll just keep myself busy. That’s always the best course, isn’t it, when you’ve suffered a tragedy? Do so many things you don’t have time to think until you’ve grown accustomed to the loss? That’s what I’ll do.” She rose gracefully to her feet and ran a hand over the impeccable smoothness of her hair. “I’ll be fine, really I will. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Thanks and get out,” I murmured as we found ourselves on the other side of the front door a minute later. “I didn’t even get to taste my brandy. She could hardly wait to get rid of us, could she? What were you doing for so long?”
Sarkisian swung himself into the Jeep. “Checking her car. The hood felt warm.”
I worked that out as I climbed in beside him. “Warm but not hot. So she’s been out, but has been home for a while. Any dents on any fenders?”
“Not a mark.” He backed onto the wet street. The wipers slapped back and forth, streaking more than they cleared.
That didn’t rule her out, though. “Did you happen to go into the kitchen?”
