there?”
“Beth said her life had been threatened and wanted me to protect her. Said her husband had been threatened, too. Estelle was there for moral support, I guess.”
Belson wrote in the notebook.
“Were you planning on mentioning this?” he said.
“Sure,” I said. “But I thought it would be good training for you to learn of it through sound investigative procedure.”
“Geez,” Belson said. “With your help maybe I’ll make lieutenant.”
“I think you have to take the lieutenant’s exam first,” I said.
“I’ll get to it,” Belson said. “You want to tell me about the wife, what’s her name”—he glanced at his notes—“Beth.”
I told him about her visit the previous evening.
“You remember what the note said?”
“ ‘Your husband had betrayed me,’ ” I said. “ ‘For this you both shall die.’ ”
Belson wrote it down.
“Didn’t seem to work out that way,” he said.
“Shit happens,” I said.
Belson nodded.
“You believe all of this?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Think she might have been setting up an alibi?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But if she was, was Estelle in it, too?”
“And Gary Cockhound?” Belson said.
“It was a fairly elaborate fake, if it was a fake,” I said.
“The kind amateurs use,” Belson said.
“True,” I said.
“On the other hand, since she didn’t actually do it,” Belson said, “who did? Eisenhower?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“What’s your gut tell you?” Belson said.
“My gut says there’s something wrong with this,” I said. “It also says that Gary Eisenhower isn’t part of it.”
Belson wrote in his notebook.
“On the other hand,” he said, “your gut isn’t too bright.”
“True,” I said. “Mostly it just knows when I’m hungry.”
Chapter45
I SAT WITH BETH in her expensive off-white living room, which looked like it had been decorated by the pound. Beth was in a black dress that proclaimed her mourning and showed off her body.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
“You told the police about me,” she said.
“I did.”
“That was mean,” she said.
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “I’m your alibi. You would have told them you were with me, and I would have confirmed it, and the cops would have said, ‘How come you didn’t tell us about her?’ ”
“Why do I need an alibi?” she said.
“You’re the spouse of a murder victim.”
“And that automatically makes me a suspect?” she said.
“They have to eliminate you,” I said.
“I suppose,” she said.
“Any thoughts on who might have done it?”
“I should think the warning note I showed you would be a clue,” she said.
“Not much hard information,” I said. “Do you still have the envelope?”
“Envelope?”
“That it came in.”
“Oh, no,” Beth said. “I threw it away. There was no return address or anything.”
“Was it addressed in hand or typed or one of those little computer address stickers?”
“Hand,” she said.
“Remember where it was postmarked?”
“Boston, maybe,” she said. “I don’t know. I’m not used to threatening letters. I’m not a detective. I just threw the envelope away.”
“Sure,” I said. “Nice outfit you’re wearing.”
“Oh, this, well, it’s . . . I’m kind of in mourning. You think it’s okay?”
“Swell,” I said. “Are you his only heir?”
“There’s a couple of ex-wives,” she said. “No children. I’m the only one in the will.”
“Well,” I said. “There’s a plus.”
“It is a plus,” she said. “But there’s no need for you to be so snarky about it. My husband has just been murdered.”
“True,” I said.
“I mean, we had our problems, sure. . . .”
“And now you don’t,” I said.
She was sitting on the ivory-colored couch. I was sitting on a straight-backed armchair across from her. She squared her shoulders and sat more upright.
“Do you suspect me?” she said.
“I remain open-minded,” I said.
“What a terrible thing to say. It’s disgusting that you could even think that.”
“Disgusting,” I said.
“Why do you even care?” she said. “Has someone hired you to work on this case?”
“No,” I said.
“Then why don’t you go off somewhere and be disgusting on someone else’s business.”
“I’ve been involved with this for a while,” I said. “It’s my line of work. I feel some obligation to see what I can do.”
“Well, don’t think you have any obligation to me,” Beth said. “I’d like it if I never saw you again.”
“You, too?” I said.
Chapter46
I SPENT THE WEEKEND at Susan’s place, where, after some early morning excitement, we usually sat in her kitchen and had a lingering Sunday brunch prepared mostly by me. This morning was a little different; we were having scrambled eggs prepared by Susan. It was one of her two specialties, the other being boiled water. I added a ragout of peppers, onions, and mushrooms to grace the plate, and