I Is for Innocent

when I arrived. She was all set to hop off the table and go home again. She figured that was the end of it and the doctor did, too. He was expecting the placenta when Isabelle slid out."
    "Your parents still living?"
    She shook her head. "Both died within a month of each other. We were nineteen at the time. Isabelle got married for the first time that year."
    "Are you married?"
    "Not me. I feel like I've been married, watching her go through hers."
    "Voigt was the second?"
    "Right. Number one was killed in a boating accident."
    "What was it like being twins? Were the two of you alike?"
    "Unh-unh. No way. God, we couldn't have been more different. She inherited the family talent and all the vices that went with it. Artwise, she excelled, but it all came so easily she didn't take it seriously. The minute she mastered a skill, she lost interest. Drawing, painting. She did a little bit of everything. She made jewelry, she sculpted. She got into textiles and did incredible work, but then she got restless. She wasn't satisfied. She always wanted to do something else. In a way, the tiny houses saved her, though she might have gotten bored if she'd lived long enough."
    "I gather, from what Ken says, she had a problem with low self-esteem."
"Among other things. She had all the inclinations of an addict. She smoked. She drank. She took pills any chance she got. She toked two or three joints a day. For a while, she dropped acid."
    "How'd she get any work done? I'd be a basket case."
    "It didn't affect her in the least. Besides, she could afford all that stuff, which is too bad in a way. She never really had to work because we inherited money. Fortunately, she never got into cocaine or she'd have gone through every cent."
    "Wasn't that hard on you, her being out of control?"
    "It was hard on all of us. I was always the heavy – parental, responsible. Especially since we were so young when our parents died. Isabelle got married, but I still felt like her mother. I admired her tremendously, but she was difficult. She couldn't sustain a relationship. She had nothing to give on a day-to-day basis. She was very self-involved. It was 'me, me, me.'
    "Narcissistic," I supplied.
    "Yes, but I don't want to give the wrong impression. She had some wonderful qualities. She was warm and witty and she was terribly bright. She was fun. She had a good time. She really knew how to play. She taught me a lot about how to lighten up."
    "Tell me about David Barney."
    "David. That's a tough one," she said and then paused to consider. "I'll try to be fair. I'd say he's handsome. Charming. Trivial. He and his wife moved up here from Los Angeles when he joined Peter's firm."
    "He was married?"
    "Not for long."
    "What happened to his ex?"
    "Laura? She's still around someplace. After David dumped her, she was forced to go to work, like every other ex-wife in town. God, women are getting screwed in divorces these days. For every guy who claims he's been 'taken' by some babe, I can show you six, eight, ten women who've been 'had' financially. Anyway, I'm sure she's in the book."
    "Go on."
    "Yes, well, David was a snob. He didn't want to work for a living any more than Isabelle did, except she was loving every minute of the work, not surprisingly. I mean, she had this sudden celebrity status and she ate it up. He was pushing her to sell the business while it was hot, before it peaked. He had some cockamamie scheme about prefabs and franchises. I'm not really sure what his idea was, but she hated it. By then, she was disenchanted with the marriage anyway, feeling bullied and suffocated. She wanted out from under."
    "If they'd divorced, the business would have been considered community property, wouldn't it?"
    "Sure. It would have been divided in half and he'd have lost really big. What'd she need him for? She could find half a dozen guys to fill his slot, but that wasn't true for him. Without her, he had zip. On the other hand, if she died, the business came to him intact... more or less. Her portion would go to Shelby, but he didn't have to worry about a four-year-old. At that point, Isabelle had already come up with so many preliminary sketches he could afford to coast and survive on the proceeds. Plus, with her dead, he must have counted on collecting the insurance. Again, some would go to Shelby, but he's still going to rake in a bunch."
    "If he wins," I said. "Where's the house he leased when they separated?"
    She flapped her hand toward the ocean. "As