Q is for Quarry (Kinsey Millhone 17)

“Sorry.” Iona used her thumb nail to eradicate the line of red that had encroached on Annette’s cuticle.

Dolan said, “Mind if I smoke?”

Annette’s eyes flicked briefly to Lieutenant Dolan’s left hand. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and it must have occurred to her that he might be a bachelor. “Only if you light one for me,” she said. “Iona has a fit if I mess up a nail before she’s done with all ten.”

Dolan reached over and picked up Annette’s pack of Winstons. He shook one free and placed it between her lips. She rested her hand seductively on his while he lit her cigarette. He then extracted and lit one from his own pack, apparently scorning her brand.

Annette inhaled deeply, blew a stream of smoke upward, and then removed the cigarette and placed it on the ashtray, being careful with her fingertips. “Lord, that tastes good. It just bores me to tears people get so tense about smoking these days. What’s the big whoop-dee-do? It’s no skin off their nose.” Her eyes slid to me. “You smoke?”

“I did once upon a time,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound quite as pious as I felt.

To Dolan, she said, “What’s Frank up to? We haven’t heard from him in years, have we, baby?”

Iona ignored her mother and concentrated on her work.

Dolan said, “You know he’s out on parole.”

Annette made a face as though afflicted by a mildly spasmingbowel. “I guess it was bound to happen. I never did care for the man myself. I hope you’re not going to tell us he knows where she is.”

“We talked to him yesterday and he didn’t mention her.”

“Well, thank god for that.”

“Are you worried he’ll make contact?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘worried,’ but I don’t like the idea.”

Dolan focused on Iona. “When did you see him last? Do you remember the date?”

Annette stared at her daughter and when Iona failed to speak up, she said, “Iona, answer the man. What’s the matter with you? I didn’t raise you like that.”

Iona shot a dark look at her mother. “You want me to mess these up or not?”

Annette smiled at Dolan. “She felt sorry for him. Frank’s parents disowned him. His father’s an oral surgeon, makes big bucks cutting on people’s gums, but he’s a stick-in-the-mud. His mother isn’t much better. They had three other boys who did well, so naturally Frank lost out by comparison. Not that he wasn’t a little shit from birth. Iona always said he was sweet, but you couldn’t prove it by me. I thought he was kind of clinging, if you want to know the truth. He certainly became possessive toward the end of their marriage. Six months.”

“Why’d the two of you break up?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” Iona said.

“He ever knock you around?”

This time when Iona declined to answer, Annette seemed happy to fill in. “Only twice that I know of. He was stoned all the time back then—”

“Most of the time, not all, Mom. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Oh, pardon. I stand corrected. He was stoned most of the time and when he was, he got mean. She told him if he didn’t straighten up his act she’d kick his butt out the door. They were living in Venice then, right on one of the canals down there. All these little baby ducks. Didn’t smell so nice, but they were cute as could be. Frank kept on drinking and he refused to budge, so I sent her the money to get out.”

“Is that when he connected with Cathy Lee Pearse?”

“Oh, that was awful, wasn’t it?” Annette said. “I still get the shivers when I stop and think of it. He’d only known her a week before the incident.”

“Is that what you call it, an incident?” Dolan asked. I could tell he was trying to suppress the outrage in his voice.

Iona put the brush back in the polish bottle and screwed the top shut. “You don’t have to take that tone. For your information, Cathy Lee came onto him. She was a gold digger, pure and simple. All moody and temperamental. Frankie said she was violent, especially when she drank, which she’d been doing that night. She turned on him just like that.” Iona snapped her fingers. “Came at him with a pair of scissors, so what was he supposed to do, let her jam the blades through his throat?”

Dolan’s expression was bland. “He could have grabbed her wrist. It seems somewhat excessive to stab her fourteen times. You’d think once or twice would have done the job.”