Bitter Business

proportion of her father’s cronies read the former.
    Climbing the steps to Jack’s house, I was surprised to see Detective Blades coming out the front door with Elliott Abelman right behind him. A uniformed maid stood at the open front door, waiting to admit me.
    “Good morning, Kate,” said Blades cheerfully. “I believe Mr. Cavanaugh is expecting you.” He looked better than he had on Sunday. He’d obviously managed to grab some sleep—either that or he’d gotten his second wind. Elliott gave me a smile that rivaled the sunshine and I felt my ears get hot. I told myself to get a grip.
    “How are things going with you two gentlemen?” I asked.
    “We’re on our way to police headquarters to pick some things up, but then we’re headed to Mariette’s for some breakfast. Why don’t you join us if you can spare half an hour?”
    “I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” I hedged, wondering whether this was just part of the homicide detective’s ongoing campaign to fix me up with his friend or whether he had fresh information he was willing to share. “Where is the restaurant?”
    “Corner of Monroe and Clinton,” he said, beginning to move down the stairs. I could see where he’d double-parked the Cavalier. “We’ll save you a seat,” he tossed over his shoulder. Elliott passed me on the steps. I carried his smile in with me to my meeting.
     
    The past week had turned Jack Cavanaugh into an old man. The fight had gone out of his eyes and he seemed shrunken into the dark folds of his suit. When he poured drinks for the two of us, there was a tremor in his hand. He was too preoccupied to notice that I didn’t even bother to pretend to touch mine.
    “I still can’t believe it,” he said after he had drained his glass. The bourbon seemed to have a steadying effect on him. “When they told us, poor Peaches had to go lie down.”
    “What happened?” I demanded.
    “The police were just here. They found cyanide in a bottle of perfume that was in Dagny’s bathroom at the office.”
    “I know,” I said. “But I still think it’s a little soon to be drawing any conclusions.”
    “You don’t understand,” Jack Cavanaugh said, his voice twisted in anguish. “That perfume wasn’t Dagny’s. That perfume was a present for Peaches.”
     

25
     
    “What do you mean, the perfume didn’t belong to Dagny?” I demanded.
    “It was sent to Peaches as a gift. Actually it was sent to me to give to Peaches,” Jack replied, obviously still struggling with his own sense of disbelief. “That’s what I’ve just been telling the police. It was a present for Peaches. It came in the mail to the office from one of our vendors—for our anniversary. When Dagny threw us that big party a lot of the guys who couldn’t make it sent gifts.
    “You can ask my secretary, Loretta, all about it. She was there, too. So was Philip.... We had just finished our weekly sales meeting when Loretta brought in the mail. There was a box on top. When I opened it there was some fancy kind of perfume inside. Dagny knew the brand right off. She said something about it, you know, I can’t remember, something about it being really expensive, or smelling real good, so I said go ahead, you take it.”
    “But it was definitely sent as a present to Peaches?”
    “That’s right,” Jack replied miserably. “At first Dagny didn’t even want it, but I told her that Peaches already had enough of that kind of shit—pardon my French—to last a lifetime. I think she has a bottle of every goddamned perfume ever made; you should see the stuff in our bathroom.”
    “So tell me about the man who sent it.”
    “His name is Chip Polarski. He’s a rep for one of the big chemical supply houses that we do business with. I’ve known him for years. I don’t think he’s even met Peaches.”
    “Just because the perfume was originally sent to Peaches doesn’t mean that the poison was necessarily in it when it arrived,” I assured him.
    “But that’s why this whole thing doesn’t make any sense. Who would want to kill Dagny?” Jack asked in an anguished voice. “My daughter didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
    “The bottle of perfume is the first solid lead that the police have gotten. Who knows? In a few days we may have all the answers,” I replied helplessly.
    “And what the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Jack demanded. “I can’t eat and I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I haven’t been to the