Split Second

statement.'

'After the election what was he going to do?'

'We never really discussed it. I always assumed he'd go back to Dobson, Tyler.'

'Can you tell us anything about his relationship with Bill Martin?'

'He mentioned his name every now and then, but that was really before my time.'

'And you have no idea why Bill Martin's widow would want to meet with your husband?'

'None. As I said, that relationship was really before our marriage.'

'First marriages for you both?'

'His first, not mine,' was all she offered.

'And you have children?'

'Three. It's been very hard on them. And me. I just want John back.' She started to sniffle, as though on cue, and Joan pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.

'We all do,' said Joan, doubtlessly thinking of the millions of dollars it would earn her. 'And I won't stop until I accomplish that goal. Thank you. We'll be in touch.'

They left and headed back to the airport.

So what do you think?' asked Joan while they were in the car. 'Is your nose twitching?'

'First impression: a snobby wench who knows more than she's telling us. But what she'snot telling could have nothing to do with Bruno's kidnapping.'

'Or it could have everything to do with it.'

'She doesn't seem thrilled with this political gig, but what spouse really is? She's got three children, and we have no reason to believe she doesn't love them or her husband. She's got all the money. She gains nothing by having him kidnapped. She'd be paying part of the ransom.'

'But if there's no ransom, she pays nothing. She's single again and free to marry someone of her own class who's not in the dirty world of politics.'

'That's true,' he agreed. 'We just don't know enough yet.'

'We'll get there.' Joan opened her file and looked at it. As she was reading, she said, 'The attack on you and Maxwell took place around two in the morning. Here I was thinking I was special, only to find that you invite all sorts of women to spend the night.'

'Just like you, she slept in the guest room.'

'And where didyou sleep?'

He ignored her. 'Who's next on the list?'

Joan closed her file. 'I'd like to hit this law firm-Dobson, Tyler-while we're in town, but we'll need time to check it out first. So it's on to Mildred Martin.'

'What do we have on her?'

'Devoted to her husband, who worked with Bruno in D.C. Some of my preliminary diggingsuggested that the young John Bruno played fast and loose as a prosecutor in D.C. and left Martin holding the bag.'

'So the widow Martin would be no fan of Bruno's?'

'Right. Bill Martin had terminal lung cancer. It had also spread to his bones. He had, at most, a month. But that didn't work in somebody's timetable, so they had to help him along.' She flipped open a file. 'I was able to get the autopsy results on Martin. The embalmingfluid had spread everywhere, even to the vitreous fluid, which otherwise is a pretty good place to spot poison because it doesn't turn to jelly like blood does upon death.'

'Vitreous? That's eyeball fluid?' asked King.

She nodded. 'There was a spike in the methanol level in the midbrain sample they took.'

'Well, if the guy was a heavy drinker, that's not unusual. Methanol is in whiskey and wine.'

'Right again. I just note it because the M.E. did. However, methanol is also a component of embalming fluid.'

'And if they knew there wouldn't be an autopsy and the body gets embalmed…'

Joan finished for him. 'The embalming process could mask the methanol presence or at least confuse the M.E. when an autopsy is actually performed.'

'Perfect murder?'

'No such thing with us on the case,' said Joan with a smile.

'So what do you think Mildred can tell us?'

'If Bruno changed his schedule to meet with someone calling herself Mildred Martin, then he must have thought the real Mildred had something important to tell him. From what I know of John Bruno, he does nothing that doesn't help him.'

'Or maybe hurt him. And what makes you think she'll tell us?'

'Because after checking her out, I've found she's also a hard drinker and a sucker for a handsome man who shows her some attention. I hope you get the hint. And if you can manage it, take off the bandage-you have such nice hair.'

'And what's your part?'

She smiled sweetly. 'The heartless bitch. A role I've perfected.'

40

After they landed, King and Joan rented a car and drove to Mildred Martin's house, arriving in the early evening. It was a modest place and in the sort of neighborhood that people who didn't have a lot of money retired to. It was about five miles from the funeral home where Bruno had been kidnapped.

They rang the bell and knocked on the door, but no one answered.

'I don't understand. I called ahead,' said Joan.

'Let's check around back. You said she's a drinker. She could be back there getting wasted.'

In the small backyard they found Mildred Martin sitting at a wicker table on a lumpy, moss-covered brick patio, having a drink, smoking a cigarette and admiring her garden. She was about seventy-five, had the heavily wrinkled face of a lifelong smoker and sun worshiper and wore a lightweight print dress and sandals in the warm, breezy air. Her hair was dyed. Other than the gray roots, the primary color was a sort of orange. The smell of citronella filled the air from a bucket of the substance that sat lighted under the table.

After introductions were made, Mildred said, 'I like sitting back here. Even with the damn mosquitoes. This time of year the garden can really shine.'

'We appreciate your seeing us,' said King politely. He'd followed Joan's instructions and removed his head bandage.

Mildred waved them to seats at the table and held up her glass.'I'm a gin girl and hate to drink alone. What can I get you?' Her voice was deep and gravelly, permanently engraved with decades of liquor and cigarettes.

'Screwdriver,' said Joan with a quick glance at King. 'I just love those.'

'Scotch and soda,' said King. 'Can I help you?'

She laughed heartily. 'Oh, if I were forty years younger, yes you could.' With an impish smile she walked a little unsteadily to the house.

'She seems to have finished her mourning period,' commented King.

'They were married forty-six years and by all accounts had a good relationship. Her husband was about eighty, in poor health and suffering great pain. Maybe there's not much to grieve about.'

'Bill Martin was Bruno's mentor. How so?'

'Bruno worked for Martin when he first started as a criminal prosecutor in Washington. Martin taught Bruno the ropes.'

'At the U.S. Attorney's Office?' asked King.

'That's right,' she said.