at all. But she came over for coffee one day, and it just started pouring out. Like she had been holding it in and had to finally tell someone.”
“Did it surprise you?”
She nods vigorously. “Very much; my husband, Frank, and I had liked Richard. He was always such a nice neighbor. But when the murder happened, I felt like I had to tell what I knew.”
“How long before the murder was your conversation?”
“About two weeks,” she says.
“And she never mentioned anything after that?”
“No, I don’t think we even talked again. She was never really that friendly; most of the time she just seemed to keep to herself. I don’t think she was a very happy person.”
“Why do you say that?” Kevin asks.
“Well, for instance, we both grew up near Minneapolis, but she wouldn’t talk much about it. She seemed well read and quite capable of talking about many subjects, as long as the subject wasn’t herself.”
“Any idea why that was?”
“Well, Richard mentioned one day that she had a difficult childhood. And then there were the problems with Richard. People from abusive households often enter into abusive relationships when they become adults. Don’t they?”
I’m not really up for psychobabble now; I’m in my pretuxedo bad mood. “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I say. “I TiVo’d Dr. Phil.”
Kevin and I leave, and I drop him off at the office before heading home. He’s worried about my meeting with Petrone but agrees to my request to call Marcus and tell him not to interfere.
I had left a message for Laurie that I was going to a black-tie gathering, and told her she was more than welcome to come along. My investigative instincts help me anticipate her answer before she says anything; she is wearing sweatpants and has put my tuxedo out on the bed.
I don’t know much about fashion history, and as an example, I don’t know who invented the tuxedo. But whoever the father of the tuxedo might have been, he should have been neutered as a child. The tuxedo is as dumb an item as exists on the planet.
Actually, maybe the invention was a joint effort; maybe it was idiocy by committee. One dope created the bow tie, another the suspenders, another the iridescent shoes, and still another the ridiculous cummerbund.
As bad as each item is, when they are put together, especially on my body, they reach a perfect symmetry of awfulness. If you put me in Giants Stadium with sixty thousand men wearing tuxedos, I would still feel as though everybody were staring at me. I don’t just feel stupid when I wear a tuxedo. I am by definition stupid, or I wouldn’t be wearing one.
I go outside at 6:55 to wait for Vince to arrive, and he is characteristically late. That leaves me standing, penguin style, in front of the house, waving to smiling neighbors dressed in normal clothing.
Vince finally arrives, and I get in the car. He is dressed in khaki pants and a sports jacket with a shirt open at the neck.
“Well, don’t you look snappy!” he says.
I’m about to take my cummerbund off and strangle him with it. “You told me to wear a tuxedo.”
He laughs. “I was kidding. It’s a casino night. Where do you think we’re going, Monte Carlo?”
“So nobody else is going to be dressed like this?” I ask.
Another laugh. “You got that right.”
I tell Vince to wait, and I go back into the house. Within ten minutes I’m dressed like a normal human being and back in the car. “That was your idea of a joke?” I ask.
“No, the way you looked in that monkey suit is my idea of a joke.”
I’m so pissed at Vince that I don’t talk to him for the twenty-minute ride to our destination. He spends most of the time whistling and listening to the Mets game; I don’t think my silent treatment is bringing him to his knees.
The charity event is being held at a ballroom called the Fiesta, on Route 17 in Hasbrouck Heights. Vince parks in the general parking area rather than using the valet service, explaining that with the valet it will take too long to get out. The true reason is that this way there will be no one for him to have to tip.
We walk into the lobby, where we are required to pay for entry and to buy chips. It costs me five hundred dollars, plus another five hundred for Vince, who seems to have forgotten