J is for Judgment (Kinsey Millhone 10)

“Would you like a bloody Mary? I’m having one.” She moved to the wet bar and opened the lid of the ice bucket. She used a pair of silver tongs to lift cubes of ice, which she dropped, clinking, into her old-fashioned glass. I always wanted to be the kind of person who did that.

“You go ahead. It’s a little early for me.”

She squeezed lime over the ice and added an inch of vodka. She took a jug of bloody Mary mix from the minirefrigerator, gave it a whirl to shake it, and poured it over the vodka. Her movements were listless. She looked haggard. She wore very little makeup, and it was clear she’d been crying. Maybe she’d only pulled herself together, answering the door when I rang. She gave me a pained smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was at Dana’s. As long as I was down in Perdido anyway, I thought I’d ask if I could go through some of Wendell’s belongings. I keep thinking he might have forgotten something. He might have left some piece of information. I don’t know how else to get a line on him.”

“There aren’t any ‘things,’ but you’re welcome to have a look around if you like. Have the police been over the boat, dusting for prints or whatever it is they do?”

“All I know is what I heard this morning from the insurance company. The boat’s apparently been found, but there’s no sign of Wendell. I don’t know about the money yet.”

She brought her drink with her, crossing to a big upholstered chair. She took a seat, gesturing for me to join her in the matching chair. “What money?”

“Wendell didn’t tell you about that? Carl kept three million dollars hidden somewhere on the boat.”

It took about five seconds for the information to register. Then she threw her head back and started laughing, not exactly a happy sound, but better than sobbing. She collected herself. “You are kidding,” she said.

I shook my head.

Another brief laugh and then she shook her head. “Well, that’s incredible. There was that much money on the Lord? I can’t believe it. Actually this helps me because it all makes sense.”

“What does?”

“I couldn’t understand his obsession with the damn boat. The Lord was all he talked about.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

She stirred her drink with a swizzle stick, which she licked elaborately. “Well, he loved his kids, of course, but he’d never let that interfere with his life before. He was low on money, which was never an issue as far as I was concerned. God knows I have enough for both of us. About four months ago, he started in on this talk about coming back. He wanted to see his boys. He wanted to see his grandson. He wanted to make it up to Dana for the way he’d treated her. I think what he really wanted was to get his hands on that cash. You know what? I’ll bet he did it. No wonder he was so fucking secretive. Three million dollars. I’m amazed I didn’t guess.”

I said, “You don’t seem amazed. You seem depressed.”

“I suppose I am, now you mention it.” She took a long swallow from her glass. I had to guess she’d had more than one drink before I showed up. Tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

She leaned back, resting her head against the chair, her eyes closed. “I want to believe in him. I want to think he cares about something besides money. Because if that’s really the kind of man he is, then what’s that say about me?” Her dark eyes came open.

“I’m not sure what Wendell Jaffe does has anything to do with anything,” I remarked. “I said the same thing to Michael. Don’t take it personally.”

“Will the insurance company pursue him?”

“Actually, CF has nothing at stake at this point. I mean, aside from the obvious. Dana’s the one who got the insurance money, and they’ll deal with her in due course. Aside from that, they’re out of it.”

“What about the police?”

“Well, they might go after him—frankly, I hope they do—but I don’t know how much manpower they’d be willing to devote. Even if we’re talking fraud and grand theft, you have to catch the guy first. Then try to prove it. After all these years? You’d have to ask yourself what’s the object of the exercise.”

“I’ll bite. What is the object of the exercise? I thought you worked for the insurance company.”

“I did. I don’t now. Let’s put it this way. I have a vested interest. This is all my life has been about for the last ten days, and I won’t leave it open-ended. I have to finish it out, Renata. I have to know what happens.”