you remember much about it?”
Ava used her shoulder to open the dining room door. “You
mean that Friday afternoon when we presume Barry must
have been killed? I’ve certainly been thinking about it. The
problem is, it didn’t seem important at the time. It’s all kind
of fuzzy now.”
Entering the kitchen, Ava stopped on the threshold. Her
face tightened, the strong, handsome features locked in what
might have been grief or horror or both.
“Damn!” she breathed. “You say you found Leon slumped
against that counter?”
“That’s right.” Judith gestured at the dessert plate where
angel food cake crumbs lay scattered on the cold marble
counter.
“Horrible.” Ava took a couple of slow, deliberate steps into
the kitchen. “How ruthless—and reckless—can a killer get?
It’s absolutely terrifying.” Her smooth, nut-brown skin took
on a sallow tinge as she clutched at her throat. “Sometimes
I wonder why I ever went to work for OTIOSE.”
“Where were you before this?” Judith inquired, wondering
if she dared sweep up the cake crumbs.
“WaCom,” Ava replied, making an obvious effort to
calm herself. “I’d been there since it was founded back in the
mid-’80s by Jim Clevenger, one of the computer boy wonders. Four years ago Frank Killegrew made me an offer I
couldn’t refuse.” Ava’s expression was cynical. “If I’d stayed
at WaCom, I’d probably be president now. As you may
know, Jim died in a skiing accident last winter.”
Judith vaguely recalled the news story, which had made
page one of the local papers. Renie, however, was more
aware of what went on in the world of commerce. She tipped
her head to one side and looked rueful.
“Clevenger was really sharp,” she said. “I’m surprised you
left him to work for OTIOSE.”
“Jim Clevenger was also a jerk,” Ava declared. “He was
extremely hard to work for, not just demanding, but unreasonable and erratic. It was a relief to come to OTIOSE. And
the money was better. At the time.”
Judith made up her mind. She and Renie couldn’t work
on a counter that was covered with cake crumbs. It wasn’t
like blood splatter or gunpowder tattooing. As long as the
body had been moved, there was no evidence to preserve.
She rinsed off the glass plate, brushed the bigger pieces of
cake into a garbage bag, and wiped the counter clean. If
there’d been fingerprints, more were to come. People, even
corporate executives, tended to congregate in the kitchen.
The crime scene was bound to be disturbed. This was a
working kitchen, and Judith had mouths to feed.
“…So much competition in the industry these days,” she
overheard Renie say to Ava. “Which reminds me, what’s
