“No, he isn’t. But you got him, Sally, with that chemo business. Where is your aunt?”
“I don’t know. She left.”
“But she knew the sheriff would be here.”
“Yes, but she said she didn’t know anything. She said she didn’t hear any screams and didn’t want to make me
look bad if she had to tell him that.”
“You mean like a hysterical girl or a liar?”
“That’s about it. When she does talk to him, she’ll probably lie. She loves me. She wouldn’t want to hurt me.”
But she hadn’t loved her enough to lie for her this time, Quinlan thought. Strange family.
“Any more phone calls?”
Sally shook her head, her eyes going automatically to the telephone, sitting next to a lamp on an end table.
“But someone knows you’re here.”
“Yes, someone.”
He dropped it. He didn’t want to push anymore, at least not right now. She’d been through quite enough for one day. But she hadn’t lost it. She’d hung in there. “I’m proud of you,” he said, without thinking.
She blinked as she looked up at him. He was still standing by the front door, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re proud of me? Why?”
He shrugged and walked over to her. “You’re a civilian, but you didn’t fall apart.”
If only he knew, she thought, as she rubbed where that ring had been, so tight on her finger, paralyzing her.
“Sally, what’s wrong?”
She jumped to her feet. “Nothing, James, nothing at all. It’s lunchtime. You hungry?”
He wasn’t, but she had to be, if that single piece of dry toast was all she’d eaten so far today. “Let’s go back to Thelma’s and see what’s cooking,” he said, and she agreed. She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to be in this house alone.
The old lady was sitting in the dining room slurping minestrone soup, her diary open and facedown in her lap, the old-fashioned fountain pen beside her plate. What the hell did she write in that diary? What could be so bloody interesting? When she saw them, she yelled, “Martha, bring me my teeth. I can’t be a proper hostess without my teeth.”
She shut her mouth, not saying another word until poor Martha hurried into the dining room and slipped the old lady her teeth. Thelma turned, then turned back, giving them a big porcelain smile.
“Now, what’s all this I hear about you two finding a dead body?”
James said, “We’re hungry. Any chance for some of your soup?”
Thelma yelled, “Martha, bring two more bowls of your minestrone!”
She waved them to two seats across from her. She stared at Sally, who was no longer wearing her wig. “So you’re Amabel’s niece, are you?”
Sally nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The old lady snorted. “You just wonder why I’m not dead yet. But I’m not, and I make sure I see Doc Spiver every day to tell him so. He pronounced me dead three years ago, did you know that?”
Quinlan did. He imagined everybody did, many times over. He just smiled and shook his head. He reached beneath the table and squeezed Sally’s hand. She went rigid, then slowly he felt her relax. Good, he thought, she was beginning to trust him. Then he felt like a shit.
Martha set two places in front of them, then served two bowls of soup.
“Martha always had men hanging around her, but they were rotters, all of them, They just wanted her cooking. What did you do with young Ed, Martha? Did you cook for him or demand that he go to bed with you first?”
Martha just shook her head. “Now, Thelma, you’re embarrassing poor little Miss Sally here.”
“And me, too,” Quinlan said and spooned some of the soup into his mouth. “Martha,” he said, “I’m not a rotter and I’d surely marry you. I’d do anything for you.”
“Go along, Mr. Quinlan.”
“A big man like you embarrassed, James Quinlan?” Thelma Nettro laughed. Sally was thankful she was wearing her teeth. “I think you’ve been around several blocks, boy. I bet I could take off my clothes and it wouldn’t faze you.”