Act of God

her brother—Darbra’s, I mean.”
    “That’s right.”
    “What happened that night, it’s not easy for me. But if it’ll help, I’ll do what I can.”
    “Let’s save that for a minute and start with Darbra. How long has she worked here?”
    “About three months, but I could get the exact date from the payroll records.”
    “Could you?”
    Swindell went over to one of the computers, clacked awhile, then said, “March twenty-eighth, a Monday.”
    Two weeks after Darbra Proft’s telephone call to her aunt, checking on the life insurance policies.
    Swindell came back to the table.
    I said, “How did she get the job?”
    “I think Darbra’s brother knew Pearl from town—the town the Rivkinds lived in, Sharon . Her brother mentioned that Darbra was looking for a job, and Pearl said to speak to her husband, maybe there was an opening at the store.”
    “Was there?”
    Swindell closed in a bit. “Was there what?”
    “An opening.”
    She seemed to choose her words carefully. “We had to use secretaries from time to time, usually got them from temp agencies. I guess Joel and Abe decided it would be a good idea to have somebody full-time.”
    The way Swindell said it, I had the feeling she didn’t think it was such a good idea. “How have things worked out?”
    “With Darbra, you mean?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t have that much to do with her. Most of my time is on the computers, and they produce about all the paperwork I deal with. I started here fifteen years ago, nobody thought about computers for anything but space shots down at Cape Canaveral , you know? Now I don’t see how we could live without them.”
    I had a different feeling, like I was being steered away from something. “With what you’ve had to do with Darbra, how does she strike you?”
    Swindell didn’t say anything.
    I took a breath. “Look, Mrs. Rivkind told me you all would do your best to help me here. There’s not much I can do for either of my clients without everybody telling me what they can.”
    A bob. “Darbra is... manipulating. Or manipulative, I guess.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “She’s bright, but not in a... productive way? She gets into a situation you’ve handed her, and she tries to do you one better, but not necessarily in a way that does her job better.”
    “Can you give me an example?”
    “Couple of times, I’ve asked her to kind of sort things, put invoices or whatever into reverse chronological order, make it easier to see where we stand on shipments.”
    “And?”
    “And she does almost what I tell her.”
    “Almost.”
    “Yeah, but she’ll put this twist in it, like sort the things into two piles instead of one.”
    “Which didn’t help you.”
    “And which maybe didn’t hurt me, either. I mean, hurt What it was I was going to do with the things. It’s just that she has to... manipulate the job somehow, like she’s trying to do your idea one better.”
    Swindell seemed to be opening up a little, speaking in a more relaxed tone. I took a chance. “I understand there was a fight in a restaurant around here?”
    “A fight?”
    “An argument between Darbra and a man?”
    “Oh, that.”
    “You saw it, then?”
    “Yes, it was pretty embarrassing.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, I was sitting in Grgo’s, a table in a corner like this one is, away from the center of the room. All of us eat there a lot—it was Abe’s favorite place—but I’d never seen this man before, and it was, well, kind of like Darbra was... showing him off?”
    “Showing him off?”
    “Yes. She introduced him to Grgo—the owner? Then she made a real production about getting seated, not right at the center, but toward the center and across the room from me.”
    “You said that people from the store ate there a lot. Was anybody else there that night?”
    “From the store?”
    “Right.”
    “No, not that I saw. No, definitely.”
    “Do you think Darbra saw you?”
    “Yes. But she made a real effort not to look over at me, like she was an actress and I was the audience.”
    I thought back to the phrase Roger Houle had used. Playacting. “Go on.”
    “Well, I was already halfway through my meal, so I thought I’d just finish and leave. Before I could, though, Darbra raised her voice.”
    “Raised it.”
    “Yes, like she was angry about something. I looked over there—you can’t help yourself, somebody acts up in a restaurant—and I saw her throw some wine at this man and stand up and throw down her