who they are, even supposed friends, are always interested, always seem to take pleasure in the misfortunes of others. The more gruesome, the better. The Germans even have a word for it—schadenfreude. The truth, of course, was very uninteresting. Nate was drunk. He fell overboard and drowned. It was an accident.”
“Here’s the thing, Mrs. Clarkson. Even though Nate Elderby’s blood alcohol level wasn’t high enough to be debilitating, according to the autopsy report, the local police ruled he fell overboard and drowned. How do you think such a thing could happen?”
“The fact is, Agent Savich, I believe Nate was an alcoholic. Maybe he hadn’t drunk himself stupid that particular day, but he really loved his bourbon. He was always careful—he didn’t want to jeopardize his criminal law practice. Still, he always drank a single shot before court, said it smoothed him out and fired up his brain. Then, of course, he always had a breath mint or two as a chaser. But he remained a firecracker in the courtroom, that’s what Johnny always said, until his untimely death. Yes, I believe he was drunk enough to be careless, and he did fall overboard. Believe me, Agent Savich, my husband was not responsible for his death. There wasn’t any earthly reason.”
Savich said, “So Nate was a successful lawyer?”
“Yes, he was, but he had the ethics of a man for hire. That is to say, he didn’t have many ethics. I do know Nate defended some bad people, got many of them off. I remember the police did look into one of his criminal clients in particular, a Mr. Showalter, but they couldn’t find any necessary proof.
“Johnny left town after Nate died, went into seclusion for several weeks. I have no idea where he went. I never asked, and he never told me. Again, he didn’t discuss anything about Nate’s death with me.
“Agent Savich, like most people, Johnny wasn’t all good or all bad, and he worked tirelessly for his constituents during his years in Congress, as well as the years before when he was mayor of Clairemont. He was no murderer.”
Savich said, “You and Nate Elderby were friends as well, I’m sure, for many years until his death, despite his questionable ethics, correct?”
“We all spent time together, of course, mostly with Nate and his first wife, Lorna. Yes, we were all close, even after Nate divorced Lorna and married a woman young enough to be his daughter. Miranda, a ridiculously dramatic name. I do not remember her maiden name.”
Savich heard it clearly, cold dislike when she’d said Miranda’s name. “Would Mr. Elderby’s second wife know any more particulars about her husband’s death, ma’am? And his relationship to your husband at that time?”
She huffed out a breath. “Miranda, know something important about anything? She was about as smart as a head of lettuce, a silly, vain young woman of questionable moral character. She wasn’t his equal, in either intellect or interests. She married Nate for his money, no doubt in my mind. If he hadn’t died, he would have divorced her within months. You know the type, flaunted herself in front of him, treated him like the king of the world, and Nate, being a man, fell for it.” She seemed to realize her voice had gotten louder, faster, so she paused, collected herself, and said in a calm voice, “Now, I still fail to see the importance of any possible disagreement between my husband and his friend for your purposes, Agent Savich. And what are your purposes, may I ask?”
“You’re being very helpful, and I appreciate it. We were talking about Mr. Elderby’s wife?”
She must have realized how her diatribe against Nate’s young wife had sounded, but she couldn’t take the words back. “They were married only six months before he died. After his funeral, she cashed out, sold the house, his cars, his boat, and left. I heard she moved to Maryland, married a dentist.” She gave a world-weary laugh. “It goes to show her sort always lands on her feet, always flourishes.”
Time to push. Savich asked, “Why all the venom toward the young wife?”
“Venom? The fact is, Miranda was a disaster. She ruined Nate’s life. If she hadn’t trotted out such a good alibi, I bet the police would have arrested her for Nate’s murder. Who knows?”
Jealousy, rock-hard jealousy, and it still burned. Savich asked, “Nate had no children?”
A contemptuous laugh. “No, although Lorna wanted a child.” She added, as if she couldn’t help herself, “As for Miranda, if