Death by Chocolate

mind this. I just don’t
have the world’s greatest memory and it helps me if I take notes. Is that
okay?”
    Marie nodded.
    “Can you tell me who
initiated the divorce, Eleanor or her husband?”
    “She did. And I suppose
you’d like to know why.” The cat in Marie’s lap woke, stretched, yawned, and
jumped off her lap.
    Savannah reached down to
stroke him as he walked by her, on the way to the kitchen. “If you can tell
me,” she replied, “it might be helpful.”
    “They had a lot of
problems, from what I could tell,” Marie said. “But the last straw, I think,
was that Eleanor discovered he was having an affair.”
    “Do we know with whom?”
    “I have my suspicions, but
I don’t know for sure, so I’d rather not say.”
    Darn, Savannah thought.
Gossipy, tell-everything-you-know-and-make-up-the-rest types were so much
easier to interview than discreet people like Marie.
    “Okay, I understand,” she
said, trying to sound more understanding than irked.
    “Do you think that their
divorce had anything to do with... you know.... her dying?” Marie asked.
    “I really don’t know. At
this point, I’m just gathering information.” She took another bite of the
cookie and jotted down a couple of notes on her pad. “Marie, this is strictly
between you and me,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “If you were
conducting this investigation, who would you check out first?”
    Marie hesitated, then
reached over and warmed her tea from the pot on the tray in front of them. “I
hate to point a finger at anyone, when it’s such a terrible thing as murder,
but...”
    “It’s okay. Nobody but you
and me will ever know that you pointed anything at anyone. I’m just looking for
a little guidance here. You know all of the people who come and go around here;
I just met them. Please, help me help Eleanor.”
    Marie lifted the teacup to
her lips with both hands, and Savannah saw that she was trembling. Her eyes
registered her fear, like a raccoon in a tree with a brace of hounds baying
right underneath him.
    “Okay,” she finally said.
“Martin.”
    Savannah waited for
elaboration. When none was forthcoming, she said, “Martin?”
    “Yes. Start with Martin.”
    “Do you want to tell me
why?”
    She shook her head. “No.”
    Savannah searched the
housekeeper’s face, trying to read anything in her expression. But all she saw
was fear.... and maybe a little shame. Marie appeared to be one of those rare
people who actually disliked saying negative things about her fellow humans.
    People like Marie made
wonderful friends, but they provided lousy interviews. Savannah realized she
had gotten just about all of the juice out of the housekeeper that this
“squeeze” was going to produce.
    She stuck the rest of the
cookie in her mouth and washed it down with the remainder of her tea.
    Folding her notebook and
putting it in her purse, she said, “Marie, thank you for your hospitality, and
for telling me what you could. I apologize for putting you in a difficult
position.”
    “I understand.” Marie stood
and walked her to the door. ‘You’re just doing your job.”
    Savannah paused, her hand
on the doorknob. “Marie.... one more question. If you really knew who killed
Eleanor Maxwell, would you tell me?”
    She watched as the woman
considered her answer. Savannah could tell that she was deciding whether to be
completely honest or not.
    “I guess that would
depend,” she said.
    “On what?”
    “On who it was.”
    “Okay. That’s fair.” Savannah
offered her hand and Marie shook it. “But I should focus on Martin, huh?”
Something flickered in Marie’s eyes. Savannah saw it, but it was too brief for
her to analyze its significance before it was gone.
    “Yes,” Marie said quietly.
“If I were you, I’d start with Martin.”
     
     
    Savannah checked her watch
as she got into her car. Five-thirty. She debated about how to spend the rest
of the evening, and her conscience got the better of her. With a sigh of
resignation, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and punched in some
numbers.
    On the second ring, Tammy
answered, “Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency.”
    You still there, huh?”
    “Ye-e-e-es.”
    Savannah grinned. The kid
sounded stressed. “Can you ta-a-alk?”
    “Nooo-o.”
    “Is she right there next to
you, telling you her whole life story in depressing detail?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Savannah laughed and made a
mental note to treat Tammy to a facial or a massage.