The Unkindest Cut (14 page)

‘‘And bid it,’’ Bart reminded him with a grin.

When Bob had finished, I picked up my cards and assembled the hand. This time I had eleven high card points, and if my partner could open, we ought to have game somewhere, or close to it.

Bob looked at his cards and, with a sigh, passed.

Bart opened a heart.

I passed, and Sophie responded with two hearts. Bob passed again, and so did Bart.

‘‘Two hearts,’’ Sophie said, recording the bid on the scorepad.

I tried to pay more attention this time, but I couldn’t keep my mind away from the murder. What Bob and Bart had told us was important, and Deputy Ainsworth ought to hear it. I figured it was better to mention it to the deputy first, rather than try to explain to Bob and Bart why they should tell the deputy their story, especially since they still didn’t know that Avery Trowbridge was dead.

‘‘Emma, it’s your lead.’’

This time it was my partner who recalled my attention to the game. ‘‘Sorry,’’ I said with a slight start. I scanned the cards in my hand and pulled the king of spades.

When the ace failed to appear, I led another spade, and my partner took the trick with the ace.

From that point I resolved to keep my mind on the game. When I had the opportunity to speak to Deputy Ainsworth again, I would inform him that Bob and Bart had something important to tell him. Besides, I needed the distraction that playing bridge always offered me. There would be time enough later to dwell on the murder.

By lunchtime we had played nine rubbers of bridge. We were all hungry by that point and ready to get up and stretch our legs. Sophie quickly added up the scores, and, not surprisingly, she and Bart won by a hefty margin. They had bid, and made, two small slams, and Bob and I never could catch up to them.

To my relief I had been able to concentrate on the game, and I kept the grim mental pictures of the murder scene at bay the whole time. I was determined to clear my mind for at least a while longer of what I had seen. I knew that if I let myself dwell on it, I wouldn’t be able to eat a thing. Not that it wouldn’t do me good to miss a few hundred calories, but I was beginning to feel a bit light-headed.

Bob and Bart excused themselves, and Sophie and I headed to the dining room.

‘‘Are you going to tell Deputy Ainsworth what Bob and Bart told us?’’ Sophie asked me.

‘‘I think I have to, don’t you?’’ We paused at the entrance to the dining room and waited for someone to seat us. While we stood there, I spotted Marylou at a table with Paula.

I nudged Sophie. ‘‘There’s Marylou over there, with Paula.’’

Sophie groaned inelegantly. ‘‘Do we have to sit with them? I’m not sure I can deal with Paula right now.’’

Marylou caught sight of us and waved.

‘‘We don’t have any choice now,’’ I said, smiling and waving back. Trailed by a waitress with menus, we made our way over to their table and sat down. I was next to Paula, and Sophie was next to Marylou. The waitress said she would be back soon to take our order.

Marylou and Paula were already at the dessert stage. Marylou seemed to be enjoying her chocolate mousse, but Paula was simply poking her fork in and out of a slice of pecan pie without eating any of it.

‘‘How are you, Paula?’’ I asked. ‘‘I know this has all been such a terrible shock for you.’’

Sophie picked up a menu and hid her face behind it.

Paula picked at her dessert. For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to answer, perhaps hadn’t even heard me, but then she spoke. ‘‘I wanted to be rid of Avery, Lord knows, but not like this.’’ She sighed, laying her fork aside. ‘‘He was a real shit, as it turned out, but I found out too late.’’

‘‘Someone must have hated him pretty badly,’’ Sophie said, closing her menu and placing it across her plate.

‘‘They’d have to stand in line,’’ Paula said. ‘‘He pissed off a lot of people lately.’’

‘‘It’s one thing to piss someone off,’’ I said, ‘‘but it’s something else again for one of those people to be angry enough to kill.’’

‘‘You saw him in action,’’ Paula said, looking at me, her eyes narrowed in speculation. ‘‘What do you think?’’

‘‘He was unpleasant,’’ I admitted. ‘‘But I still say someone would have to have had a really strong motive to go to that length.’’

‘‘You’re right, Emma,’’ Marylou said. ‘‘Now, Paula, you probably know everyone who had reason to hate Avery the most. Surely you have some idea of who might have killed him.’’

Paula glanced from one to the other of us. ‘‘What is this? You’re beginning to sound like that deputy who was asking me so many questions.’’

‘‘We can’t help but be curious,’’ Sophie said, shrugging. ‘‘I mean, it happened right next door to us. Plus we know you, and we met the victim. Wouldn’t you be curious?’’

‘‘I suppose,’’ Paula said, her tone grudging.

‘‘So what do you say?’’ Marylou spoke again. ‘‘Who do you think did it?’’

Paula glanced around as if to make sure no one could overhear what she was about to say. ‘‘Veronica, who else? She’s a coldhearted bitch, and Avery humiliated her in public. I think she was really angry over what he did, plus the fact that he had no intention of continuing their affair.’’

‘‘How do you know that?’’ I asked. ‘‘Or are you simply guessing?’’

Paula stared at the remains of her pie. ‘’Avery told me,’’ she finally said. ‘‘I confronted him about it last night, and he told me he wasn’t going to have anything more to do with her.’’

‘‘When was this?’’ Marylou asked.

Paula shrugged. ‘‘I don’t remember what time it was. Late, anyway. Avery was in a foul mood, and we argued. I told him I wanted a divorce, and he said it was fine with him.’’

‘‘You must have been relieved to hear that,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘Because didn’t you tell us before that he was resisting?’’

‘‘What changed his mind?’’ I asked when Paula didn’t respond right away to Sophie’s question.

‘‘I don’t know why he changed his mind,’’ Paula said, ‘‘and frankly I don’t give a damn. I was just glad he finally agreed.’’ She sighed heavily. ‘‘And now, of course, it’s a moot point. He’s dead.’’

A man’s voice spoke then, startling us all. ‘‘He certainly is, and how convenient that is for you.’’

Chapter 15

Paula had picked up her water glass and was about to sip from it when the man spoke. She set the glass down with a loud thump, and water sloshed over the edge and onto the tablecloth.

‘‘Haskell,’’ Paula said. ‘‘What the
hell
are you talking about?’’ She glared up at the man who had come to a halt scant inches from our table.

Marylou, Sophie, and I stared at him. It took me a moment to remember who he was—Avery Trowbridge’s agent. I had also forgotten how large he was. At the moment he loomed over us like a mountain.

Without being invited, he pulled a chair from a nearby table, twirled it around backward, and sat down with his arms across the back of it. He stared straight at Paula, ignoring the rest of us.

He laughed. ‘‘Come on, Paula, you’re not fooling me one bit with this little outraged-innocence act. Avery told me he was going to divorce you, and he was going to see that you didn’t get much out of the settlement.’’ He paused for emphasis. ‘‘Now that he’s dead, you stand to get a lot more than you would have otherwise.’’

For the first time he acknowledged the presence of other persons at the table. ‘‘What do
you
think, ladies? Isn’t it awfully
convenient
for Paula that somebody offs Avery before he can divorce her?’’

‘‘You had better be careful about saying such things,’’ I said, ‘‘or Paula just might decide to sue you.’’

‘‘I certainly will,’’ Paula said in a fierce tone. ‘‘You had better shut your mouth, Haskell Crenshaw, or I’ll hire somebody to shut it for you.’’

Crenshaw threw his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. ‘‘Okay, okay, I give. So maybe Paula didn’t kill Avery for the money.’’ He laughed. ‘‘But it’s still pretty convenient.’’

‘‘It looked like a crime of passion to me,’’ Paula said, her voice suddenly cool. ‘‘I didn’t care enough about Avery to want to kill him. And I wasn’t interested in his money. He was willing to give me a divorce, and that’s all I cared about.’’

‘‘She’s very convincing, isn’t she?’’ Crenshaw cocked his head at me.

‘‘What are you playing at here?’’ I said. I couldn’t take much more of this nasty little fencing match. ‘‘This is not a good place for this.’’

‘‘Emma’s right,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘We’ve all had enough of these unpleasant public scenes.’’ Marylou nodded in agreement.

‘‘Sorry, ladies,’’ Crenshaw said, though he didn’t look in the least abashed. ‘‘But you can’t tell me you really believe she’s Little Miss Innocent in all this.’’ He nodded at Paula.

‘‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’’ Paula said. ‘‘You’re being ridiculous.’’

‘‘Well, go ahead, Paula,’’ Crenshaw said. ‘‘Let’s have it. Tell us all about your little chat with Avery last night.’’

Paula stared hard at him for a moment. ‘‘You really think I don’t know, don’t you?’’ She shook her head, as if in sadness. ‘‘You really think Avery didn’t talk to me about things, don’t you?’’

For the first time, Crenshaw appeared the slightest bit uneasy. He had been drumming his fingers on the back of the chair, but his hands stilled. His grip on the chair tightened as he waited for Paula to continue.

‘‘For instance, Avery told me about how, every time you had a little too much to drink, you started trying to get him into your bed.’’ Paula smiled, malice triumphant. ‘‘We had
so
many laughs about it, let me tell you. He thought you were
so
amusing. And
pathetic,
of course. The only reason he continued to put up with you was that he thought you were good at your job.’’

Crenshaw relaxed his grip on the back of the chair. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He actually seemed relieved. In fact, he burst out laughing.

‘‘What the hell is so funny?’’ Paula practically hissed at him.

It took Crenshaw a moment to stop laughing. ‘‘You really are as stupid as Avery said you are.’’ He stared at her. ‘‘He lied to you, Paula. He was the one who wanted to get
me
into bed whenever he’d had a snootful. Ol’ Avery traveled both sides of the street, if you get my drift.’’

‘‘I don’t believe you,’’ Paula said, but without much conviction in her voice.

‘‘Oh, you can believe it all right,’’ Crenshaw said, his voice hardening. ‘‘You remember a few months ago, when Avery went to Acapulco for a week? He told you he was doing a bridge cruise, didn’t he?’’

Paula nodded. Her eyes narrowed.

‘‘He was in Acapulco all right,’’ Crenshaw said, ‘‘but it had nothing to do with bridge.’’ He sighed as if he was recalling particularly happy memories. ‘‘We had a great time that week even though I had trouble getting Avery to leave our suite.’’

Paula was speechless for the moment, and I certainly couldn’t think of anything to say. Sophie, Marylou, and I exchanged shocked glances.

At last Paula found her tongue. The words that came spewing out of her mouth were vile and vulgar. Marylou and I, after the first shock wore off, both reached for her at the same time. Paula’s voice was rising in volume, and the few other diners nearby were staring at our table.

Through it all, Crenshaw just stared at Paula without appearing at all bothered by her words. As soon as Marylou and I managed to shut Paula up, however, he got up from his chair. ‘‘I think that’s probably one reason Avery preferred my company to yours, Paula. You really are a shrew. It’s been my pleasure, ladies,’’ he said, sketching a slight bow. Then he turned and walked away.

‘‘Maybe he’s bluffing,’’ Marylou said when he was out of the room. She patted Paula’s arm in consoling fashion. ‘‘Don’t let him upset you so.’’

‘‘Marylou’s right,’’ Sophie said, and I nodded. ‘‘He’s probably making all that up just to make you mad.’’

‘‘I wish that was all there was to it,’’ Paula said in a voice so low we could barely hear her.

‘‘Do you mean to say that Avery really was bisexual? ’’ Marylou’s eyes grew round with surprise.

Paula nodded miserably. ‘‘That’s one of the reasons I wanted to divorce him.’’ A sob caught in her throat. ‘‘Oh, I could just die!’’ She started crying.

Marylou did her best to comfort Paula. Sophie and I looked at each other. I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

If Paula had known about her husband’s bisexuality, that could give her a motive for murder. She might have been so angry with him that she killed him, rather than simply divorcing him. I could imagine how I would feel after such a confession from my husband. Such promiscuity was unforgivable.

‘‘When did you find out about it, Paula?’’ I spoke gently. I thought at first she hadn’t heard me, though her crying had quieted. She raised a tearstained face from Marylou’s shoulder and regarded me blankly.

‘‘When?’’ She wiped her face with one of the linen table napkins. ‘‘Last night, actually,’’ she said. ‘‘He threw it in my face while we were arguing. I can’t tell you how shocked I was.’’ She paused for a deep, calming breath. ‘‘It makes me sick all over again just to think about it. I mean, I knew that he cheated on me with other women. But I never imagined, well, you know.’’

Her face crumpled, and she started to cry again. Marylou once again cradled Paula’s head against her shoulder and did her best to offer comfort.

Sophie and I shook our heads at each other. Paula was too upset to realize how this would sound to the sheriff’s department. A motive like this could make her their number one suspect right away.

And who was to say that Paula didn’t kill him? I grimaced at Sophie. We knew each other so well we didn’t have to speak to communicate sometimes.

What were we going to do about this?

If Paula was innocent, then she ought to have nothing to fear from telling all this to Deputy Ainsworth.