I Is for Innocent

day of the week."
    "David Barney's full of shit. He'd do anything to shift the blame."
    "This didn't come from him. It came from someone else."
    "And who was that?"
    "I'd rather not go into that...."
    "Well, you're a fool if you believe it."
    "I didn't say I believed it, but the point is a good one."
    "Which is what?"
    "Other people had a motive for wanting her dead. We've all been so busy believing David Barney did it, we haven't looked at anyone else."
    She seemed momentarily stumped by the thought and then her gaze shifted slyly. "Well, then. Why don't you look in the right direction?"
    "What are you saying?"
    "I'm saying Yolanda Weidmann. Isabelle wrecked Peter's business pulling out when she did. He really promoted her career. He put in a lot of time and money when no one else would lift a finger. You have to understand just how crazy Isabelle was. Erratic, self-destructive, all the booze and the dope. She didn't have a degree. She didn't have a reputation until Peter took her up. He was her mentor and she shafted him royally. She turned her back on him after all he did. And then, that heart attack of his. That was the finishing touch. In theory, it was brought on by stress and overwork. The truth is, she broke his heart. That's the long and short of it."
    "But he didn't seem bitter when I talked to him."
    "I didn't say he was bitter. Yolanda's the one. She's really a spider, not a woman you'd want to cross."
    "I'm listening."
    "You've met the woman. You tell me."
    I shrugged. "Personally, I couldn't stand her. I spent half an hour over there and she put him down constantly, all these barbs and zingers, little ha-has at his expense. I'd rather see a knock-down, drag-out fight. At least it's honest. She seemed... I don't know... wily."
    Simone smiled slightly. "Ah, yes. She's very cunning. Under it all, I assure you, she's fiercely protective. She can treat him any way she likes, but you try it and look out! I think it makes her a very good candidate."
    "But the woman must be sixty-five years old if she's a day. It's hard to believe she'd turn to murder."
    "You don't know Yolanda. I'm surprised she didn't do it sooner. As for her age, she's in better shape than I am." She broke off eye contact and her manner became brisk. "I have to go. I'm sorry I blew my stack." She put the car in reverse and backed out of the slot. I stared after her with interest as she pulled away.

Chapter 18
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    I retraced my steps, moving toward the entrance. I could see Henry heading off across the parking lot toward his car. The first cluster of mourners had dispersed to some extent and those who remained in the chapel were just emerging. William appeared from the cool depths of the funeral home, looking somehow offended and confused. He was holding his fedora, which he placed squarely on his head with a slight adjustment to the brim. "I don't understand what denomination that was."
    "I think the service is meant to cover all bets," I said.
    He looked back over his shoulder at the facade with disapproval. "The building looks like a restaurant."
    "Well, you know, eating out is close to a religion these days," I said dryly. "People used to tithe to the church. Now the ten percent goes to the waiter instead."
    "It wasn't very satisfactory as funerals go. In Michigan, we conduct these services properly. I understand there's not even going to be a graveside ceremony. Very disrespectful, if you ask me."
    "It's just as well," I said. "From what I know of Morley, he didn't have a highly developed spiritual side and he probably wouldn't have wanted any kind of fuss made about his death. Anyway, his wife is ill and might not have been up for more than this." I didn't mention that the body would probably be whisked over to the coroner's office within the hour.
    "Where did Henry go?" William asked.
    "He's bringing the car around, I think."
    "Will you be coming back to the house with us? We're having a light lunch on the patio and we'd be happy to have you join us. We invited Rose, hoping to reciprocate her many courtesies."
    "I wish I could, but I have something to take care of. I'll stop by a little later and see what you're up to."
    Henry pulled up beside us in his five-window coupe. It's a 1932 Chevrolet that he's had since it was new. It's been meticulously maintained, boasting the original paint, headliner, and upholstery. If William were driving it, I suspect the car would seem prissy. With Henry at the wheel, there was something rakish and