and whatever you recommend in cutlery.”
The lunch was delicious, Helen MacIntosh such good company that Amanda hated the thought that, as soon as she had answered some questions, this feminine sun would vanish to shine elsewhere.
But it was a very leisurely interrogation that lasted for several hours and through a dozen customers, during which intervals Helen pretended to be a staff member.
“I have a message from Captain Delmonico,” Helen said after the lunch things were cleared away and the shop deserted.
“He’s very different from Sergeant Jones,” Amanda said.
“Try comparing Veuve Clicquot to rubbing alcohol. Anyway, he said to tell you that your nephews, Robert and Gordon, have been living in Carew for over eight months.”
She was shocked: “I don’t believe it!”
“True.”
“Why haven’t they told me? Visited me?”
“The Captain thinks it’s the way they’re made-pranksters. Every day you live in ignorance of their proximity, they have a giggle at your expense. It’s no more malignant than that, he says. They’re not the Vandal-the wrong kind of prank.”
“Have you their number?”
“Sure. I’ll give it to you before I leave.” Helen gazed around. “This is the most gorgeous shop, I love it. It’s solved all my Christmas shopping problems. That glorious massive urn over there with the peacock feathers actually incorporated in the glass-it’s so hard to get glass to assume those iridescent, metallic colors. My father will adore it, he’s got a vacant pedestal in his office.”
Amanda went pink. “Um-it’s very expensive, Helen-a one-off Antonio Glauber,” she said in a small voice; here was a blossoming friendship going west before it really got started.
“What’s expensive?” Helen asked.
“Fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Oh, is
Amanda’s eyes had gone as round as the glass teddy bear’s. “I-are you-can you honestly afford it, Helen?”
“The income from my trust fund is a million dollars a year,” she said, as if it meant little. “I don’t spend wildly, but it’s so hard finding things for parents who can also afford to buy whatever they fancy, price no consideration. And that urn is really a beautiful piece-Dad will love it.”
“It’s for sale, of course, but I never expected to see it go,” Amanda said huskily. “One gets so attached to the original pieces. Still, I’ve done so well since being in Busquash Mall that I’ll have to take a buying trip next summer.”
“I can understand why there’s a NOT FOR SALE notice beside the glass teddy bear. It’s a museum piece.”
“Yes. I’d never sell him.”
“No one could afford it. What have you got it insured for?”
“A quarter-million.”
Helen’s vivid blue eyes glazed. “Uh-that’s crazy! You must know what it’s really worth.”
“He’s worth whatever value I care to put on him, Helen. If I insured him for more than that, he’d have to go into a vault and never be seen. That’s not why Lorenzo made him. Lorenzo made him for me, my own one-off, never for sale.”
There was iron in the voice; Helen desisted, choosing to sit on the floor and play with the dog and cat. She had begun her work, but it was far from over. Here was her best source about the twins. Twice a week, lunch. That should do it. And what a change, to find she really liked the person under the detective’s microscope.
“Do you believe all that?” Amanda asked Hank over Chinese in her apartment that night. “Eight months, and never a word! I phoned Robert up and gave him
The noodles fell off Hank’s chopsticks; he put them down and stared at her, astonished. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me! They pushed their father down the stairs when they were eight, and put arsenic in their mother’s food as soon as they didn’t need her anymore.”
“Wow!” Hank fished for more noodles; he was hungry. “I take it they escaped retribution?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “What do I do with my estate?”
His laugh sounded zany. “My mind’s spinning in circles, Amanda. You mean your will?”
“Yes. The only blood kin I have are a pair of crazy twins. But if I disinherit them, who is there? The ASPCA? The Humane Society? A farm for broken down donkeys?”
“Or an indigent mall manager,” he said with a grin.
She gasped, clapped her hands together. “Yes, that’s it! I’ve had a funny feeling-are you really indigent, Hank? Trust me! I’d like an honest answer.”
He looked hunted, swallowed convulsively. “For what it’s worth, I’d trust you with my life, Amanda. My ex-wife is permanently institutionalized, and I’m permanently broke keeping her there. The fees are astronomical. Funny, your health insurance will pay for anything except a mind, just as if something that can’t be seen can’t be broken.”
“Oh, Hank! That’s terrible! What happened?”
“The divorce was through-acrimonious on her side, not on mine. Her moods-well, they frightened me. Then she came back on some pretext-a forgotten picture, I think it was.”
“You don’t remember?”
His hunted look grew worse. “According to the psychiatrists, human beings have a tendency to forget just what they ought to remember. Anyway, it was a pretext. She went for me with a knife, and I defended myself. We were both wounded, and there was nothing in it between our stories. That the cops tended to take my word over hers wasn’t popular with her friends-she had some very important ones. In the end it never came to trial because her mental condition deteriorated terribly. But I got the hint. Unless I paid to keep her in a private asylum, there might be a trial-mine. I knew it was the easy way out. I’m pretty sure I would be acquitted at trial, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure. There’s no statute of limitations on murder, and she’s way past seeming dangerous. Any jury looking at her now would see a shriveled up scrap of scarcely human flesh. So I keep on paying.”
“Hank, Hank!” She rocked back and forth. “I knew there was a big trouble there, I knew it! Go to trial, Hank, please. You would have to be acquitted. Besides, there was no murder, just an attempted murder.”
His shoulders hunched. “I can’t bear to open that can of worms, Amanda, I just can’t!”
He’s a lovely man, she was thinking, watching him, but he’s timid, and I suppose that side of him will show at a trial. If indeed there is a case to answer-he won’t even find that out. Her friends are having a kind of revenge in keeping him poor…
“I wish there was something I could do,” she said, sighing.
“There isn’t. One day Lisa will die, and my troubles will be over. She’s developing kidney failure.”
“Would you consider a loan?” she asked. “I could afford to help you keep her institutionalized.”
His hand went out, clasped hers, and his gentle brown eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh, Amanda, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not much of a man, but I won’t let you do that.”
“I have a good cash income and over two million dollars in assets,” she said warmly. “I’m not in love with you, but you’re my very dear friend. Leave it for the moment if you prefer, but let me ask again six months from now. And if she does go into kidney failure, you’ll have huge medical bills as well. Please don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
There had been a subtle alteration: Hank Murray looked more cheerful, stronger. He squeezed her hand. “Okay,” he said, lips turned up in a smile. Then he lifted her hand and kissed it.
