V is for Vengeance (Kinsey Millhone 22)

“Absolutely not. I didn’t know the woman.”

“Nor did I, but that’s hardly the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Seeing she gets a proper send-off. It’s the least we can do.”

“You’re a total stranger. Don’t you think it’s bad form?”

“But they don’t know that. I’ll make it clear we weren’t terribly close and therefore I can be more objective about her unfortunate choice. With a suicide, family members are often at a loss. It will help if they can talk about the situation with someone and who better than me? Surely there are details they wouldn’t share with friends. You know how it is. A veil of privacy descends. I’m both dispassionate and sympathetic. They’ll appreciate the opportunity to sort through their feelings, especially when they learn I’m an old hand at this.”

The way William described it, I was inclined to agree.

“What if they ask how you knew her?”

His tone was incredulous. “At a funeral? How rude. The right to pay one’s respects isn’t reserved solely for the next of kin. If someone’s gauche enough to inquire, I’ll tell them we were distant acquaintances.”

“So distant you never met.”

“This is a small town. How can anyone be sure our paths didn’t cross half a dozen times?”

I said, “Well, don’t go on my account. I didn’t even know her name until this morning.”

“What’s the difference?” he asked. “You should join me. We could make an afternoon of it.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Too ghoulish for my taste.”

“What if her criminal confederate is there? I thought you were interested in tracking her down.”

“Not now,” I said. “I’m convinced she was involved, but I don’t have a shred of proof, so what’s it to me?”

“Don’t be callous. Audrey’s accomplice bears some responsibility for her demise. I should think you, of all people, would want to see justice done.”

“What justice? I saw Audrey shoplift, but I didn’t see the other gal steal anything. Even if I did, it would still be her word against mine. The salesclerk at Nordie’s didn’t have a clue there were two of them.”

“Maybe the accomplice was picked up on one or more of the store’s security cameras. You could have them print a still shot and take it to the police.”

“Trust me, the loss-prevention officer won’t invite me in to review the tapes. I’m not even law enforcement. Besides, from his perspective, it’s the store’s business, not mine.”

“Don’t be stubborn. If the second woman showed up at the funeral home, you could follow her. If she shoplifted once, she’s bound to do it again. You could catch her in the act.”

He pulled out the jug of bad wine and poured me a glass.

I considered his proposal, remembering the younger woman’s failed attempt to run me down. It would be satisfying to see the look on her face if the two of us turned up at the same place. “What makes you think she’ll be there?”

“It just stands to reason. Imagine the guilt she must feel. Her friend Audrey is dead. I should think she’d put in an appearance to appease her conscience, if nothing else. You could do the same.”

“My conscience doesn’t bother me. Who said it did?”

William arched a brow as he screwed the cap on the jug. “Far be it from me.”

8

Tuesday morning I skipped my run. The pain in my bruised shin felt worse, but that wasn’t my excuse. The visitation for Audrey Vance was scheduled for 10:00 A.M. If I went into the office early, I’d have time to make a few calls and open mail before I had to break away. I brushed my teeth, showered, and washed my hair, after which I took my all-purpose black dress out of the closet and gave it a shake. Nothing dropped on the floor and skittered away so I thought I was safe in assuming insects hadn’t taken up residence. I inspected the dress, turning it this way and that on the hanger. There was dust on both shoulders and I brushed that away. No buttons missing, no split seams, and no dangling threads. The fabric in this garment is wholly synthetic, probably a petroleum derivative that will one day be pulled off the market owing to its newly discovered carcinogenic properties. In the meantime, it never wrinkles, never shows dirt, and never looks out of date, at least to my untutored eye.

At the office, I accomplished what I could in the brief time allotted. At 9:30, I locked up and drove back to my neighborhood. William, sharply dressed in one of the more somber of his three-piece suits, was waiting outside Rosie’s when I swung by to pick him up. Now that he was “pre-diabetic,” he’d affected a cane, a handsome ebony affair with a thick rubber tip. We did the crosstown drive in a little less than ten minutes.