Thelma chewed another bite of chicken, a string of mozzarella cheese hanging off her chin. “I think, boy, that you and Sally here should go driving some place and neck. I’ve never before seen a girl in such a twitter as poor Sally here. She’s a mess. Amabel won’t say anything except that you’ve had a rough time and you’re trying to get over a bad marriage. She said none of us were to say a word to anybody, that you needed peace and quiet. You don’t have to worry, Sally, no one from The Cove will call and tell on you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Thelma, Sally. Now, how much does either of you know about that big-time murdered lawyer back in Washington?”
James thought Sally would faint and fall into her chicken parmigiana. She looked whiter than death. He said easily, “No more than anybody else, I suspect. What do you know, Thelma?”
“Since I’m the only one with a real working TV, I know a world more than anybody else in this town. Did you know the missing daughter’s husband was on TV, pleading for her to come home? He said he was worried she wasn’t well and didn’t know what she was doing. He said she wasn’t responsible, that she was sick. He said he was real concerned about her, that he wanted her back so he could take care of her. Did you know that? Isn’t that something?”
She wouldn’t faint into the parmigiana now. Quinlan felt her turn into stone. “Where did you hear that, Thelma?” he asked mildly, even as he doubted he ever wanted another bite of chicken parmigiana in his life.
“It was on CNN. You can find out everything on CNN.”
“Do you remember anything else he said?”
“That was about it. He pleads real well. Looked very sincere. A handsome man, but there’s something too slick about him. From what I could tell he’s got a weak chin. What do you two think about that?”
“Not a thing,” Sally said, and James was pleased that her voice didn’t sound scared, though he knew she had to be.
Thelma didn’t seem to realize that her audience had stopped eating. She cackled, saying, “I like James. He’s not all soft and smooth like that poor girl’s husband. No, James doesn’t put all that mousse in his hair. I bet that poor girl’s husband wouldn’t use that nice big gun James has under his coat. No, he’d have one of those prissy little derringers. No, he’s too slick for my tastes.
“Now that James is here, Sally, I recommend that you use him. That’s what my husband always said to me. ‘Thelma,’ he’d say, ‘men loved to be used. Use me.’ I still miss Billy. He caught pneumonia, you know, back in 1956. Killed him in four days. A pity.” She sighed and took another bite of chicken parmigiana.
“I feel like I just swallowed five cloves of garlic,” Quinlan said after they managed to escape, Sally pleading a stomachache.
“Yes, but it was delicious until Thelma mentioned Scott.”
“He wants to take care of you.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does.”
He wished she’d tell him about her husband and what he’d done to her. The fear in her voice wasn’t as strong as the bitterness. When she’d gotten that phone call from someone pretending to be her father-now, that was fear. She turned to face him. She looked paler, if that were possible, and pinched, as if the life were being drained out of her. “You’ve been kind to me and I appreciate it, but I’ve got to be leaving now. I can’t stay here any longer. Now that he’s gotten on TV about me, someone will have seen it. Someone will call. I’ve got to leave. And you know what else? Thelma knows. She was just playing with me.”
“No one will call because no one saw him. If he’d offered a reward, then I’d bet on Thelma calling up in a flash, cackling all the while. Yes, Thelma knows, but she’ll stop at enjoying the hell out of taunting you. Look, Sally, no one else knows who you are. All you are is Amabel’s niece. I’d even wager that if anyone did find out they wouldn’t say a word. Loyalty-you know what I mean?”