I Is for Innocent

black crewneck sweater across her shoulders like a shawl.
    She said, "Well, Kinsey. You're the last person in the world I expected to see." She hesitated, focusing fully on my face. "Is something wrong? You don't look right. Have you had bad news?"
    "Actually, I have, but I don't want to go into it. Do you have a minute to spare? I want to talk to you about something."
    "Sure. Come on in. Guda's gone off to the market to pick up a few items. I was just having coffee by the fire in the den. Let me grab a mug and you can join me. It seems nasty out."
    It's nasty everywhere, I thought. I followed her to the kitchen, which was done in black and white, with oversize windows on three sides. The appliance fronts were black, as well as the cabinet facings, which were a gleaming lacquer. The counters were Corian, snow white and seamless. Racks and accessories were polished aluminum. The only touches of color were bright red dish towels and bright red oven mitts. She took a mug from the cupboard and indicated we could reach the den through the dining room. "You take cream and sugar? I've got both on the tray. There's skim milk if you prefer."
    "Milk is fine," I said. I didn't want to tell her about Morley just yet. She was looking back at me with curiosity, clearly troubled by my manner. Bad news is a burden that only sharing seems to lift.
    The den was paneled in birch, the furniture upholstered in saddle-colored leather. She resettled herself on the leather sofa where she'd been. She was in the process of reading a hardback, a Fay Weldon novel she'd nearly finished judging by the bookmarker. It had been ages since I was able to take a day off and shut myself in under a quilt with a good book. There was a plump pot of coffee on the brass table to one side. She poured coffee into the mug and passed it over to me. I took it with a murmured "Thank you," which she acknowledged with a wary smile. She pulled a pillow into her lap, holding on to it like a teddy bear.
    I noticed she didn't press to find out why I'd stopped by. Finally I said, "I checked Morley's appointment book. According to his notes, you talked to him last week. You should have told me when I asked."
    "Oh." She had the good grace to flush and I could see her debate about how to respond. She must have decided the lie wasn't worth telling twice. "I guess I was hoping you wouldn't have to know."
    "You want to fill me in?"
    "I'm embarrassed about it really, but I called first thing Thursday morning and set it up myself."
    There was silence. I said, "And?"
    She lifted one shoulder uncomfortably. "I was angry with Kenneth. I'd come across some information... something I'd been unaware of...."
    "Which was what?"
    "I'll get to that in a minute. You have to understand the context...."
    I couldn't wait to hear this. "Context" is what you mention when you're rationalizing bad behavior. You don't need to talk about "context" when you've done something good. "I'm listening."
    "I finally realized just how sick I was of Isabelle's murder. I'm sick of the whole subject and all the drama attached. It's been six years and that's all Kenneth talks about. Her murder, her money, her talent. How beautiful she was. The tragedy of her death. He's obsessed with the woman. He's more in love with her dead than he was when she was alive."
    "Not necessarily...."
    She went on as if I hadn't spoken. "I told Morley I hated Iz, that I was thrilled to pieces when she died. I was just, you know, spewing out all this emotional... garbage. What's weird is when I thought about it later, I understood how twisted my thinking had become. Kenneth's, too. I mean, look at us. This is really a very neurotic relationship."
    "You came to this conclusion after talking to Morley?"
    "That was part of what triggered the realization that it was time to get out. If I'm ever going to be healthy, I've got to separate myself from Ken, learn to stand on my own two feet for a change –"
    "And that's when you decided you were leaving him? Just last week?"
    "Well, yes."
    "So it had nothing to do with the cancer two years ago."
    She shrugged. "I'm sure that played a part. It was like waking up. It was like suddenly understanding what my life was about. Honestly, until I talked to Morley, I thought I was happily married. Really. I thought everything was fine. I mean, more or less. After that, I understood it was all an illusion."
    "Must have been a hell of a conversation," I said.
    I waited briefly, but she had lapsed into