E Is for Evidence

an easy chair and watched while Olive moved into a walk-in closet the size of a two-car garage. Quickly she began to sort through a rack of evening clothes, rejecting sequined outfits, floor-length organza gowns, beaded jackets with long, matching skirts. I could see an assortment of shoes stacked in clear plastic boxes on the shelf overhead, and at one end of the rack, several fur coats of various lengths and types. She selected a knee-length cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and returned to the bedroom where she scrutinized her reflection. The dress was avocado green, infusing her skin with sallow undertones.
    "What do you think?" she said, eyes still pinned to her own image in the glass.
    "Makes you look green."
    She stared at herself, squinting critically. "You're right. Here. You take this. I never liked it anyway." She tossed the dress on the bed.
    "I don't wear clothes like that," I said uncomfortably.
    "Take it. We'll have a New Year's Eve party and you can wear it then." She pulled out a black taffeta dress cut straight across the front. She stepped into it, then zipped it up the back in a motion that snapped everything into place. She was so slender I didn't see how the globelike breasts could possibly be hers. She looked like she'd had softballs surgically implanted on her chest. Hug a woman like that and she was bound to leave dents.
    She sat down on the dressing-table bench and pulled on black panty hose, then slipped her feet into four-inch black spike heels. She looked gorgeous, all curves and flaw-less skin, the pale-blond hair brushing against her bare shoulders. She sorted through her jewelry box and selected clip-on diamond earrings shaped like delicate silver branches hung with sparkling fruit.
    She returned to the closet and emerged in a soft, white fur coat the same length as the dress. When she pulled the coat around her, she looked like a flasher decked out in white fox.
    She half-smiled when she caught my look. "I know what you're thinking, sweetie, but they were already dead when I got to the furrier's. Whether or not I bought the coat had no effect on their fates."
    "If women didn't wear them, they wouldn't be killed in the first place," I said.
    "Oh, bullshit. Don't kid yourself. In the wild, these animals get torn to shreds every day. Why not preserve the beauty, like a piece of art? The world's a vicious place. I don't pretend otherwise. And don't argue with me," she said, firmly. She pointed a finger. "You came to talk, so talk." She slipped the coat off and tossed it on the bed, then sat down on the bench and crossed her legs. She eased off one high heel and let her shoe flap against the bottom of her foot.
    I said, "How much do you know about the situation at Wood/Warren?"
    She gestured impatiently. "Business is a bore. I use that section of the paper to line the cat box."
    "You have no interest in the family split?"
    "What split? You mean with Lance? I have nothing invested one way or the other. He and Ebony disagree. She wants me to vote with her. The way she explains it, it's to my advantage. Lance will have a fit, of course, but who gives a shit? He's had his chance."
    "You're siding with her?"
    "Who knows? Probably. She's smarter than he is and it's time for new blood. He's got his head in the toilet half the time."
    "Meaning what?"
    "Let me give you the lowdown on my brother, honey-bun. He's a salesman at heart. He can charm your socks off when it suits him. He's enthusiastic about anything that interests him, which isn't much. He has no head for figures. Absolutely none. He hates sitting in an office and he can't stand routine. He's good at generating business and lousy at follow-through. End transmission."
    "You've seen this firsthand or is this Ebony's claim?"
    "I hear about what happens at the plant every day. Terry's a workaholic and most of what he talks about is business."
    "How do he and Lance get along?"
    "They knock heads all the time. Terry's obsessive. It drives him crazy when people fuck up. Excuse the scien-tific term. Lance has poor judgment. Everyone knows that. Meet the woman he married if you have any doubts."
    "What about the rest of the family? Can't they vote him out?"
    "Nope. The rest of us combined only own forty-nine percent of the stock. Ebony wants to put the squeeze on him, but she can't actually force him out. She can bring him to heel, which I suspect is what she wants."
    "I take it Bass isn't involved since he lives in New York."
    "He shows up