Split Second

'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.

King looked around. 'Well, the Martins don't seem to be all that well off.'

'Public service doesn't pay very well, we all know that. And Bill Martin didn't marry an heiress. They moved down here after he retired. Mildred grew up here.'

'Well, nostalgia aside, it's not the sort of place I'd want to come rushing back to.'

Mildred returned with their drinks on a tray and sat down. 'Now, I guess you want to get down to brass tacks. I've already talked to the police. I really know nothing about any of this.'

'We understand, Mrs. Martin,' said King, 'but we wanted to meet and talk with you personally.'

'Lucky me. And please call me Millie. Mrs. Martin is my mother-in-law, and she's been dead for thirty years.'

'Okay, Millie, we know you've talked to the police, and we know that they did an autopsy on your husband's body.'

'God, that was a complete waste of time.'

'Why's that?' Joan said sharply.

Mildred eyed her keenly. 'Because no one poisoned him. He was an old man with terminal cancer who died peacefully in his own bed. If I can't drop in my garden, I'd prefer to go that way too.'

'You know about the phone call to Bruno?'

'Yes, and I've already told the police I didn't place it. They checked my phone records. I guess they didn't believe me.'

Joan leaned forward. 'Yes, but the point is that Bruno was reportedly very agitated after getting the call. Can you explain why?'

'If I didn't make the call, how should I know? Unfortunately mind reading isn't among my repertoire. If it were, I'd be rich.'

Joan persisted. 'Look at it this way, Millie. Bruno and your husband were once close but no longer really were. Yet he gets a phone call, which he thinks is from you, asking to meet, and he gets agitated. The person calling would have had to say something plausible for that to happen, something that Bruno would logically associate with you or your husband.'

'Well, perhaps it's as simple as the person's having told him Bill was dead. I hope that would have upset him. After all, they were friends.'

Joan shook her head. 'No. Bruno already knew. That's been confirmed. He wasn't planning on coming to the funeral home until he got the phone call.'

Martin rolled her eyes. 'Well, that's not surprising.'