Bitter Business

for you if that’s what you wanted. Even if the police can’t, he’ll find out what happened.”
    “No one can bring her back,” he whispered, not looking at me.
    “No,” I said, thinking of Claire. Her mother had been a woman who didn’t flinch from what life threw in her face. I hoped that she’d passed a little of that on to her daughter. Lord knows she was going to need it. “But I think that you all need to know what happened. I think Claire needs to know.”
    Jack didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell whether he was thinking or he’d just gone numb. Finally, he turned toward me.
    “Call him and tell him he’s got the job,” he said.
     
    Back at the office I stood at Cheryl’s desk, listening to her run through the list of my phone calls, shaking the snow off of my shoes.
    “Sandy Morgenstern called. They’ve scheduled the Frostman Refrigeration deposition for tomorrow at three.”
    “Call him back and tell him I can’t make it. See if he can move it to next week. If not, I’ll have to send someone in my place. I’m flying down to Georgia tomorrow afternoon.”
    “To Georgia? Why?”
    “The Cavanaughs have a place down there called Tall Pines. That’s where Dagny’s going to be buried. Jack Cavanaugh wants me to come down for her funeral.”
    “But what about your grandmother’s birthday party?” demanded Cheryl. There were lots of times when my mother blamed her for my shortcomings. My secretary did not seem eager to take the fall if I didn’t make it to Grandma Prescott’s eighty-third birthday party.
    “I’m flying down with the Cavanaughs on their plane tomorrow afternoon at four, so you’ve got to book me on a commercial flight out of Tallahassee that gets back to Chicago in time for the party on Saturday.”
    She nodded and made a note.
    “Philip Cavanaugh called while you were out,” she said, not raising her head. “He said it’s urgent.”
    “Get him on the phone for me.”
    “He said it has to be in person.”
    “I’m not leaving the office again today,” I replied wearily. “Call and tell him that if he needs to see me in person, he’s got to come here.”
    “Are you going to be okay?” Cheryl asked, looking up and cocking her head to one side.
    “I guess I’ll live.”
    “Good,” replied my secretary, flashing me an impish grin. “It’s a real pain being so nice to you. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep it up.”
     
    Philip Cavanaugh walked into my office looking haggard and defeated. The expression on his face was of someone who sees an incredible catastrophe approaching but is powerless to stop it.
    “What can I do for you?” I asked after he’d taken a seat and Cheryl had come and gone offering coffee.
    “The police came to my house this morning,” he reported. “They were asking all kinds of questions.”
    “It’s just routine. They have to talk to all the members of her family.”
    “They were asking about Cecilia Dobson.” He gave one of his dry little coughs.
    “That’s only to be expected. Your sister’s death puts what happened to her secretary in a new light.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well,” I answered, puzzled that he needed to have it spelled out for him, “two apparently healthy young women who worked in the same office died under almost identical circumstances. Don’t you think there must be some sort of connection?”
    “I don’t know what to think!” Philip wailed. “Isn’t it bad enough Dagny’s dead and now I have no one to help me run the company? The police showed up at my house this morning and started asking all sorts of embarrassing questions—”
    “What kind of questions?” I demanded, something in his voice setting off alarm bells in my head.
    “Stupid questions,” Philip answered warily.
    “Give me an example,” I said, thinking I didn’t have the stomach for coaxing it out of him.
    “You know. Questions about who knew her. What she did outside of the office.”
    “What Dagny did outside of the office?”
    He shook his head.
    “Questions about Cecilia, then,” I continued.
    He nodded mutely. The stamp of misery on his face was unmistakable. In an instant enlightenment dawned.
    “Were you seeing Cecilia outside of the office?” I demanded, trying to keep the incredulity out of my voice.
    He nodded wretchedly, acknowledging it to be true.
    “I was going to break it off,” he said finally. “Honest. We were going to have dinner tonight. Sally—that’s my