High Noon

wasn’t. I don’t understand why this has anything to do with something current, Lieutenant.”
    “We’re just confirming details, and I certainly apologize for the necessity of bringing up a tragic event that caused you such grief.”
    But you don’t appear to be touched by that, Phoebe thought. Not like poor Falk, reliving the death of Brenda.
    “Witness statements agree that Mrs. Brentine did have an account in the bank. That, in fact, she came in that day to withdraw all her funds and close that account. Maybe you could tell us about that, Mr. Brentine, as it was over three years ago. We haven’t yet been able to access the bank records on that transaction.”
    “Tell you what?” He rolled his shoulders. “Angela had a small, personal account of her own. Mad money, you could say. A few thousand dollars. Some terrible twist of fate had her deciding to bank that day, at the very time of the robbery.”
    “You didn’t know about the account?”
    “I didn’t say I didn’t know about it. I said it was her little piggy bank, so to speak.”
    “I’m sorry, I’m just wondering why the wife of someone in your enviable financial position would need a separate little piggy bank.”
    “I imagine she enjoyed the independence.”
    “But, according to the file, she wasn’t employed during your marriage.”
    “No, she wasn’t.” He lifted a hand from the arm of his chair, a palm-up gesture she recognized as impatience. “She was very busy taking care of our home, being a hostess, working with charitable organizations. I’m afraid I can’t help you any more with this, so if you’ll excuse me—”
    “But to withdraw all of it, at one time,” Phoebe persisted. “That’s what stood out for me when I read the case file in conjunction with this other investigation. That’s just puzzling.”
    “Unfortunately, neither you nor I can ask her.”
    “That is unfortunate. I expect she was going to buy you a present, or splurge on something foolish. I’m always splurging on something foolish if I get enough money in my hands. I bet she had a couple of close girlfriends. We women do, and we tend to tell them these silly details we don’t tell our husbands.”
    “I fail to see what that detail has to do with anything.”
    “You’re probably right. I’m just going off on a tangent. It just niggles me, I suppose. I hate not to know. Well, if you could tell us where you were last night, that would be helpful, and we’d be right out of your way. After eleven last night?”
    He said nothing for an icy ten seconds. “I don’t like the implications of that.”
    “Oh, there’s no implication at all. I apologize if it seemed otherwise. It’d be helpful if you’d verify your whereabouts. Otherwise…” Phoebe looked toward Liz.
    “That would niggle both of us,” Liz said with a big smile. “Then we’d be taking up a lot more of your valuable time.”
    “I was at the theater with a friend until after eleven, then we had drinks. I got home about one this morning. Now if there’s anything else—”
    “Just one little thing. The name of your friend. Just to tie this up so we won’t have to bother you again.”
    “Catherine Nordic.” He rose. “I have to ask you to leave. If you have any other questions, I’ll contact my lawyer.”
    “That’s not necessary. Again, I apologize for bringing up difficult memories. Thank you so much for your time.”
    As they walked back through reception, Liz glanced toward Phoebe. “Didn’t like him.”
    “Why, neither did I! Self-important putz. And wasn’t it interesting he didn’t want to tell us anything about his dead wife’s friends or that bank account? Tell me, Liz, if you were married to a very wealthy man, why would you be socking money away in your own account?”
    “Security, should said wealthy husband decide to dump me or vice versa.”
    “And if the marriage was in trouble?”
    “A girlfriend would know. I get a whiff of something else here. Cold-fish husband, and a controlling one you bet your ass—so you’ve got to sneak money into a separate account—a husband who’s out of town a lot while you’re kicking around arranging flowers and taking lady lunches.”
    “Affair.”
    “We are not only attractive public servants, but cynical ones.”
    “Hmm.” Phoebe ran it through her head as they rode the elevator down. “I don’t see the dead wife as the love of his life. Strikes me as he’s more or less x’d her out like he might a