Bury the Lead - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,40

trying to remember them exactly. He referred to the victims besides “the rich one” as “window dressing.” Among the many things I don’t know are how Randy came to know this and why the killer needed “window dressing” at all.

Marcus is waiting for me at the office when I get back, sitting stoically as Edna regales him with stories of her latest triumph. She’s managed to combine and satisfy her two interests in life, crossword puzzles and finance, by discovering various business publications with financially themed puzzles. Marcus isn’t saying anything, which could mean he’s interested or not interested or asleep.

In any event, his characteristic muteness is doing nothing to dampen the conversation. Edna peppers her sentences with phrases like “Right?” and “You understand?” and “You know?” and seems to pretend that Marcus is answering, as she nods and continues.

He has returned from Cleveland, having gathered as much information as he could. There wasn’t much to learn: Daniel was a widely respected member of the press who had no criminal record whatsoever and no known tendency toward violence. The community, from politicians and business leaders on down, supported him through the ordeal. Counterbalancing that, in addition to the detective’s hunch, are some of Margaret’s acquaintances, who say that their marriage was troubled and that she was considering leaving him.

Marcus’s hunch is the same as that of the Cleveland police: He thinks Daniel may have either killed her or had it done. Like the detective, he can’t come close to proving it. It’s just that the inheritance, the troubled marriage . . . these are things that arouse Marcus’s detective instincts. The presumption of innocence is not a concept that Marcus holds dear.

Laurie and Kevin arrive for a meeting on how we will approach the investigation of Linda Padilla. They are stunned to hear about Randy. Neither knew him, so while they are sympathetic, it’s natural that they focus on the impact this might have on our case.

Randy’s death enhances the credibility of the information he was going to provide. Kevin and Laurie share my view that there is almost no chance that his murder was a coincidence. He was going to name names, and we can only assume that the owners of those names, be it Petrone or anyone else, took steps to make sure that didn’t happen.

I call in Edna to ask her to report on the results of an assignment I had given her, which was to watch as much televised coverage of the Padilla killing as she could find.

There has been a recent tendency, probably since Princess Diana died, for television networks to cover funerals in their entirety. I’m at a loss to know what news value there is in showing people grieving and singing upbeat, gooey songs, but it must generate good ratings. I want to go on record and say that if anyone sings “You Light Up My Life” at my funeral, I will die of embarrassment. Actually, Sam Willis will probably song-talk it.

The plus side of the coverage, at least from our point of view, is that it is easy to get a handle on who were the important people in Padilla’s life. These are the people we will talk to, and Edna does a very good job of filling us in.

I give out assignments for each of us to cover. There is simply never enough time to prepare for a trial, and I want us moving quickly and efficiently. The meeting then breaks up, and Laurie stays behind.

“Sondra is doing okay,” she says. “But her recovery will take a while.”

“How long will she be in the hospital?”

“She can leave in a few days,” she says, “but she needs to rest for at least six weeks.”

“Where will she do that?”

“My house.”

I’m not surprised, but not happy to hear this for selfish reasons. Will Laurie be willing to leave her alone and spend nights at my house? Will she still feel comfortable having me stay over at hers? Is she starting down a path that is going to be filled with frustration?

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. It’s a wimpy, completely ineffective question, unlikely to make her snap her fingers and say, “You know, I don’t think it is. Let me tell her to go back on the streets.”

She nods. “I do. But this is my thing, Andy. You don’t have to be part of it.”

I’m glad to hear this, because I don’t want to be involved in any way; I’ve got