The Unkindest Cut - By Honor Hartman Page 0,69

her to hide the card in our sofa,’’ I said.

‘‘Yes, I can see that,’’ Marylou said. ‘‘But why are you so convinced it was Paula? I mean, why couldn’t it have been Veronica Hinkelmeier?’’

I hadn’t thought of that, and neither had Sophie. We stared at each other.

‘‘We’ve been out of the room often enough, and long enough, for her to have sneaked in with a passkey, ’’ Sophie said. ‘‘And we already know she has a grudge against Emma.’’

‘‘It’s certainly a possibility,’’ I said, ‘‘but if she really did do it, why hasn’t she thought up some reason for the sheriff’s department to search and find it by now? I’d think she wouldn’t want to wait very long to do that without delay.’’

‘‘Who does the king of spades represent?’’ Sophie asked. ‘‘Maybe it has something to do with that?’’

I thought for a moment about the reading I had done. ‘‘You know, I’m not completely sure,’’ I said. ‘‘It’s either David or Charlemagne, but I can’t remember which.’’ I got up from the sofa. ‘‘Hang on a moment, and I’ll look it up.’’

In the bedroom I found the book and opened it to the appropriate pages. Scanning them, I found the information I needed. In both the Rouen and Paris traditions, the king of spades represented the biblical king David. I shut the book and put it back in the bag with the other books I had bought.

I puzzled over it as I walked back into the living. ‘‘King David,’’ I told Sophie and Marylou as I resumed my seat on the sofa.

‘‘David?’’ Marylou and Sophie said in unison. We all stared at one another.

‘‘What does that mean?’’ Marylou asked after a moment.

‘‘I’m not sure,’’ I said. ‘‘All I can think of is the story of David and Bathsheba.’’

‘‘And how David had Bathsheba’s husband sent into the front lines of the battle, knowing he would probably be killed, and then David could have her for himself,’’ Sophie said.

‘‘Exactly.’’

Marylou frowned. ‘‘You’re forgetting part of the story. David got Bathsheba pregnant while she was still married to her husband, Uriah the Hittite. She was the mother of Solomon.’’

‘‘This is all giving me a headache,’’ Sophie said with a grimace.

‘‘Me, too.’’ I sighed. ‘‘But before we go any further with this, we need to let Deputy Ainsworth know about it.’’ I got up from the sofa and went to the phone. I dialed the operator and asked for the room where the sheriff’s department was working.

Someone answered eventually. I identified myself and asked for Deputy Ainsworth. The first response was that he was too busy at the moment to talk to me. I insisted that what I had to tell him was of vital significance to the investigation—I hoped I wasn’t lying about that—and the man on the other end gave in.

I had to wait about a minute, but Deputy Ainsworth came on the line. ‘‘Yes, what is it?’’ His voice was terse to the point of rudeness.

I identified myself again. ‘‘I’m sorry to bother you, Deputy, but I’ve found something in our suite that I think could be important evidence. I think you really need to come see it, and as soon as possible.’’

‘‘What is it?’’ he asked.

‘‘It’s another playing card. Just come up and look at it,’’ I told him. ‘‘I’ll explain when you get here. It really is important.’’

I heard some muttering. ‘‘Okay, look, I’m in the middle of something, and I can’t leave it. Give me about twenty minutes.’’ The phone clicked in my ear.

‘‘He’s coming up in about twenty minutes. He’s in the middle of something,’’ I said while putting the receiver in its cradle. ‘‘So we’ll just have to wait.’’

‘‘I bet he was annoyed.’’ Sophie grinned.

‘‘Yes,’’ I said. ‘‘I know he thinks I’m probably one of those women who’s so desperate for attention that she manufactures reasons to call the police.’’

‘‘He’ll see differently when he gets here,’’ Marylou said, ‘‘and then he’ll be sorry he didn’t come right away.’’

‘‘Let’s hope so,’’ I said. I sat down on the sofa and stared at the card lying on the cushion next to me.

‘‘That bloodstain must mean this card was part of the deck Avery Trowbridge was playing with,’’ I said. ‘‘But how did it get blood on it if it was lying on the table with the other cards? I don’t remember seeing any blood on the table, just on Avery himself and the chair.’’ I shuddered as an all-too-graphic image flashed through my brain.

‘‘He had to have been holding