photo out for Renie’s perusal. “There is something familiar about her. Or maybe I’m imagining things. Do
you recognize this face?”
But Renie didn’t. “Why,” she inquired in a wistful
voice, “are you fixated on Mr. Carp?”
“Because,” Judith replied in a peevish tone, “I don’t
know where to go with this damned mess. I still think
the motive for this crime—if it was a crime—is personal. I don’t believe that anybody under this roof
killed Bruno for professional reasons. Somebody has a
secret that was worth committing murder for, or somebody just plain hated Bruno.”
Renie set her handbag down on the floor and leaned
against the counter. “As in hated him for personal reasons?”
Judith nodded. “Exactly.”
“A woman scorned?” Renie suggested.
“Possibly.”
“Which woman? Wives one through three, or someone who wanted to be number four?”
Judith sighed along with the wind, which was now
a dull moan. “It’s possible. We know nothing about the
personal lives of Eugenia Fleming or Winifred Best.”
“Eugenia?” Renie wrinkled her pug nose. “Hardly
the type you’d expect a bigwig producer to marry.”
“We might say Eugenia isn’t the right type,” Judith
pointed out, “but that doesn’t mean Eugenia would
agree.”
“Winifred?”
“She’s been a wife, in a way,” Judith said. “Women
who work closely with men are like wives.”
“True,” Renie said. “I’ve seen it in the corporate
world. The business partner, the executive secretary,
the special assistant. It’s not usually a sexual relationship, but sometimes it is. And of course one of the parties may suffer from unrequited love.”
“I think we can scratch Ellie and Angela,” Judith
mused. “They owe their careers to him in some way—
despite the Big Flop—but I can’t picture either of them
panting with desire for Bruno.”
“Power’s a great aphrodisiac, though,” Renie noted.
“Still . . .” She gave a shake of her head.
“We’re on the wrong track there,” Judith said.
“We’re back to professional motives. I wish we knew
why Winifred is so reluctant to talk about her brief career as a singer.”
“Because it was so brief?” Renie offered.
“I think it’s more than that,” Judith said. “I think that
the brevity of her musical career could be a secret
worth keeping.”
Renie didn’t bother to stifle a big yawn. “I’ve got to
head home. The fog’s just about gone and the wind’s
dying down. If I had to, I could drive with my feet.”
