Pretty Poison

friends. What are you going to do? Break into a building? Meet an informant in a dark alley?”

She laughed at him. “I did that last night. Tonight, I’m going to see Ronda McGee to see if it’s possible her husband might be involved. You’re welcome to come along. But you’ll have to wait in the car. I don’t think she’ll be as open with a man since she lost her lover and now she’s divorcing her husband.”

“I wouldn’t want to be there either,” he agreed. “I can be Kato. You can be the Green Hornet tonight. Are we grilling the suspect before or after dinner?”

“Before. I thought it might be better on an empty stomach.” She watched him pick up the phone and cancel the taxi. He was definitely a man after her own heart. “Come on, Shakespeare. Let’s go!”

RONDA AND BOB MC GEE’S HOME was a two-story Tudor set within an elaborately fenced yard on Providence Road near Myers Park. The wrought-iron gates were open when Peggy and Steve arrived. It looked like every interior and exterior light was turned on. As Steve started to turn into the drive, a fast-moving gray Jaguar squealed past them and into the street.

“Do you think that was the suspect, and he got tipped you were coming?” Steve asked as he pulled through the gate.

“It’s possible,” she quipped. “My reputation may have preceded me.”

“Or he heard you had a big dog.”

She opened the car door. “Stay!” Shakespeare subsided with a groan. “Have a good time, you two. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be practicing my karate moves.”

Peggy rang the doorbell and waited, juggling her gifts of angelica and lemon balm tea. The dried leaves from the plant made a lovely sachet to relieve stress and insomnia. The lemon balm tea tasted good and was soothing. Ronda’s housekeeper opened the door, looking frazzled. Without a word, she walked back into the house, leaving the door open. Not sure what to do, Peggy followed her.

Ronda was in what looked like the library. Huge, oak shelves lined the walls surrounding a stone fireplace. The room was a wreck, books and other articles strewn everywhere. The desk looked like it had been looted. Papers and computer parts were scattered across the top.

“Hello, Ronda.” Peggy approached her. “I heard about what happened. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

Ronda picked up the telephone and threw it across the room. “Can you believe it? That son of a bitch had his girlfriend pick him up!”

“Maybe it was better for him to leave right now.” Peggy put the plant and tea on the desk. “What happened?”

Ronda collapsed in one of the high-backed chairs. “I don’t know. I had a feeling something was going on. Then he went out of town for another business meeting. They usually cover for each other. I don’t know what went wrong. But I found out he was with her.”

“Who is she?” Peggy sat down opposite her.

“A secretary. Not even his secretary. Some young twit they hired. She looks like she’s sixteen. I caught them out at our house on Lake Norman. He had her in our bed. Can you believe it?”

“It was certainly brazen of him.”

Ronda laughed. “I’ll say. I mean, it’s not like I expected him to be faithful. These things happen. But not in your own house. That’s too much.”

“So you kicked him out.”

“You bet your ass I did! He can have his little bimbo, but he’s going to pay for it. It’s not like this is the first time either. That night Mark was killed, Bob was out of town. He wasn’t working. He was with her that night, too. I had a private detective following him. I have pictures. He’s going to pay big time. This may be a no-fault state, but my lawyer says adultery means major property settlement. By the time I get done with him, he and that little slut will have to live in the Tryon Arms!”

Peggy sighed. That brought down her theory about Bob McGee being involved in Mark’s murder. It was a long shot anyway. She didn’t mention to Ronda that she’d been doing the same thing to Bob. Obviously, in her mind, infidelity had its rules. Bob crossed over them.

As if Ronda suddenly noticed Peggy was there, she wiped her face with a tissue and combed her hair back with her fingers. “I know you didn’t come to hear all of this. Did you have something you needed to ask me about Mark?”

Thinking quickly, Peggy answered, “Yes. I was wondering how many people knew about Mark’s allergy to alcohol.”

“Not many people. Mark felt like it made him seem old. He’d pretend to drink to keep up appearances.”

“And he never drank liquor?”

“Not that I know of,” Ronda replied. “I read the old guy who killed him had a stroke. I guess it was bad luck all the way around. Even for Julie, that spiteful little bitch.”

“I’d say especially for Julie, since she lost her husband,” Peggy said, not feeling particularly sympathetic toward Ronda.

“You know, the rest of us knew how the game was played. I always knew Bob fooled around. He knew I fooled around. We respected the limits. Julie never got that. She felt like Mark was her own personal property. How realistic is that?”

“You mean Julie never cheated on Mark?”

“Never! Mark was the one and only man for her. We laughed at her behind her back. That kind of marriage is