Blood on the Street (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery, #4)

Rona shrugged, and Wetzon went on. “Brian must have repaid the twenty thousand. Can you check on whether he did, because if he did, he had definitely resigned.” Robin Huang was writing copious notes. “If he didn’t, Simon might have a motive. If Simon doesn’t replace the twenty thou, he may lose his job.”
    “What about Penny Ann?” Smith persisted.
    Yes, what about Penny Ann , Wetzon thought. Penny Ann was hardly innocent, especially when it came to Tabitha. Either she had abused her daughter or she’d stood by in silence while her late husband had.
    “What about the missing correspondence file? Brian’s.” Wetzon checked Barbie’s reaction. There was none. “Would those papers give us a motive for Brian’s murder, and Tabitha’s?”
    Barbara turned her head slowly and stared at Wetzon with her shaded eyes. Did Barbie know Wetzon had seen the papers in the hatbox? The woman was downright scary.
    “Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn up,” Rona said. “The filing system in Tony’s office is a disaster.”
    Wetzon said emphatically, “The fact that they were missing cost Penny Ann the case. Although it made Brian crazy, the twenty thousand for the annuities was nothing but a pity fuck.”
    Everyone in the room stared at Wetzon, and Barbie began laughing, hiccuping, choking, and couldn’t stop. Jerry turned worried eyes on his wife, and she gasped, “God, I’m sorry. It’s so funny.” She started laughing again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He handed her a handkerchief across the table and she dried her eyes without removing her glasses. “God, it’s hot in here,” she said. She tore the sequined beret from her head, and it was Wetzon’s turn to gasp.
    Red curls cascaded from under Barbie’s beret to her shoulders.

45.
    “W ELL AT LEAST she had the sense to get herself a wig,” Smith said. “Or maybe we’ve just met her evil identical twin.”
    “Penny Ann,” Wetzon said thoughtfully. She and Smith were alone on the elevator, shooting down to the lobby of the building.
    “My thought exactly. This is what we’ll do. You’ll drive up to the country with me tonight and we’ll go talk to Penny Ann tomorrow.”
    Wetzon shook her head. They got out of the elevator and walked slowly back to the skating rink. She had this little pulsing pain over her right eye and a burning sensation behind her eyeballs. “I want to go home, get into bed and sleep ten or twelve lovely, uninterrupted hours. If I go up with you tonight, it’ll be pajama-party time. We’ll talk ourselves to death, and I won’t be good for anything. Why not drive up tomorrow morning?” They leaned, elbows on the low marble wall, and watched the skaters. A father was adjusting a red cap on a child of about four; both seemed perfectly balanced on their skates until the child tottered and went down smack on his snowsuited bottom, pulling his father after him.
    Smith hugged herself. It was getting too cold to run around without a coat. “Mark is coming in for the night with a friend. They’re going up to Killington with a group tomorrow morning. He’ll be sorry not to see you.” Her eyes got shiny. “My baby’s growing up so fast….”
    Wetzon put her arm around her partner. “He’s sixteen, going on seventeen, Smith. Not a baby anymore.”
    “I know.” Smith sniffed and fumbled in her pocket for a Kleenex. “But I hate to see it. It means I’m getting older, too. That’s why I’m just going to ignore my birthday.” She looked at Wetzon suspiciously. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
    Wetzon felt a pang of guilt. “Who, me? No, of course not, but I’m sure Twoey must know.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Oh, come on. You’ve been seeing him for over a year. You know when his is, don’t you?”
    “Humpf. If you take the nine-oh-seven, you’ll get in at ten-ish and I’ll pick you up.”
    “When’s the next one?”
    “Ten-oh-seven.”
    “That’s the one I’ll take.”
    Smith shivered. “It’s too cold to stand here. I’m going to get a cab.”
    “I just want to watch a little longer.” Wetzon fluttered her hand at Smith. “See you tomorrow. Give Mark a kiss for me.” They clasped hands for a minute, then impulsively hugged each other. Wetzon pulled the collar of her trench coat high around her neck and watched Smith make her way up the stairs to Fiftieth Street until she was out of sight.
    A girl in a fuzzy white bunny suit was doing spins on the ice to “Putting on the