A Farewell to Legs: An Aaron Tucker Mystery - By Jeffrey Cohen Page 0,43
any who would resort to violence when there were other, nastier tricks to pull on him. I can only assume this was”—and he didn’t even glance in Stephanie’s direction—“a crime of passion.”
“So you don’t know of anyone to start with,” I said hoarsely.
“I’d start with the last bimbo and work my way back, if I were you,” he said. “You’re bound to hit pay dirt somewhere along the line.”
Without another word, he turned and walked back into his mother’s room. Stephanie waited until he was completely out of sight and behind the door, then she looked at me and rolled her eyes.
I chuckled. “Has it been this much fun the whole time, or did they decide to spice things up for the rabbinical student?” I asked.
“Well, the bigotry is a new wrinkle, but that’s pretty much been the atmosphere around here,” she said. “I’ve lived with it since Louis and I got married.”
“Well, look on the bright side. She only hates you half as much as she hates me.”
Stephanie laughed, and hugged me. It wasn’t a friendly hug, and I didn’t understand it. She was trying much too hard to make sure her breasts pressed against my chest.
“Hey, Steph,” I said. “Take it easy. I’m still married.”
She leaned back. “That’s you, Aaron. You’d never do anything wrong, would you?”
Maybe I could distract her. “You’re the second person this month who’s accused me of being incorruptible,” I told her.
“Okay, now we’re in the area of way too much information.” I started to reach into my pocket for my car keys. “I’ve got to go pick up the kids,” I said.
“From what? It’s only twelve-thirty.”
“Half-day,” I lied. “Millard Fillmore’s birthday, or something.”
Stephanie put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “You’re running away from me, Aaron,” she said.
“Think of it as walking away in a brisk manner,” I tried.
“You’ll be back.”
“If this is a recurring dream, I sure will,” I said, and reached for the doorknob.
By the time I had reached the Midland Heights borough limits, I was relatively sure Stephanie had killed Legs Gibson. I just couldn’t figure out how she’d done it.
With all this information rattling around in my brain, I did the only thing a sane man could do: I printed out a copy of my freshly completed screenplay, and mailed it off to my agent. By the time I was back from the Post Office, it really was time for the kids to get home. I dealt with the homework soap opera of the day, listened to the stories, read the note from Wilma, Ethan’s aide (she has a separate notebook in which she reports to us on how his day really went), and actually wrote a 750-word piece for the Star-Ledger on the boating business “down the shore.”
When dinner preparation time rolled around, I had almost exorcised the weird events of the day. And then the phone rang.
“Aaron, I’m so sorry,” Stephanie was saying, even before I was sure it was Stephanie. “I don’t know what came over me— okay, I do know what came over me.”
“I know it wasn’t my animal ruggedness,” I said.
“Don’t discount yourself, but actually, it was the tranquilizers I’ve been taking since Louis. . . died,” she said. “I increased the dosage to deal with Lester and Louise, and it made me. . . I was-n’t myself.”
All right, maybe she hadn’t killed her husband.
“I don’t know who that woman was,” I told her, “but if I show up in a room with her again, I want to have an elephant gun with me.”
“Thanks a lot,” she said.
“You know what I mean,” I told her. Then, lowering my voice because the kids were in the next room, and listen only when I don’t want them to, I said, “I am married, and I intend to stay that way.”
At that very moment, the door swung open, and Abigail walked in. The kids swarmed around her, as they always do, and she smiled and kissed them and did everything she always does. But there was something different. The look in her eye.
“I have to go, Steph,” I said into the phone. “My wife is going to kill me now.”
“Don’t joke with me about things like that, Aaron,” Stephanie said. “It hits a little too close to home.”
“I’m not joking,” I said, and hung up.
I walked over to my wife, who was hanging up her coat, and reached over to kiss her. She ducked and walked