K Is for Killer

up the stairs at the near end of the pool. He dropped it at the old man's feet and then barked once sharply. Esselmann threw the stick again. It sailed toward the deep end of the pool, landing with a faint splash. The dog flew off the side and swam, head high. The old man laughed and clapped his hands, urging the dog on. "Come on, Max. Come on."
    The retriever clamped his mouth on the stick again and turned, paddling back to the stairs, where he scrambled out, water pouring off his oily coat. Max dropped the stick at Esselmann's feet and then shook himself vigorously. Water flew out in all directions. Both Serena and her father laughed. Esselmann brushed at the polka dots of water on his cotton robe. I could have sworn Max was grinning, but I might have been mistaken.
    A maid in a black uniform appeared at the French door. "Mr. Esselmann? Phone for you."
    The old man turned and glanced in that direction, then headed toward the house while the dog pranced sideways and barked, hoping for one more toss. Serena caught my eye and smiled. Clearly, her father's hospital discharge had lightened her mood. "Can I offer you a glass of wine?"
    "I'd better not," I said. "Wine makes me sleepy, and I have work to do yet."
    We moved back through the French doors into the kitchen, where the wood fire popped cheerfully. Esselmann was standing near the planning center, on the telephone. He glanced over his shoulder and raised a hand, indicating his awareness of our presence. Beyond him, the door to the hall was open, and the dog's wet footprints led to a second door that was now closed. I had to guess Max had been relegated to the basement until he managed to dry himself. I heard a scratching noise, and then the dog issued one of those brief barks intended to make his wishes known.
    "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I'll be there.... Well, I'm opposed, of course. We're talking about an allotment of twelve million gallons a year. I'm absolutely adamant about this, and I don't care who knows it." His manner shifted to something slightly less gruff. "I feel fine.... I appreciate that, Ned, and I hope you'll tell Julia I received the flowers she sent and they were lovely.... Yes, I'll do that. I don't have much choice. Serena keeps me on a very tight leash." He turned and rolled his eyes at her, knowing that she was nearby. "I'll see you at the meeting Friday night. Just tell Bob and Druscilla how I'm voting on this. We can talk about it then, but I hope we're in accord.... Thank you. I'll do that.... Same to you."
    He hung up the handset with a shake of his head. "Damn fools. First time my back is turned, they get sweet-talked into something. I hate the oil companies. That Stockton fellow's not going to have his way on this."
    "I thought you were in his corner."
    "I changed my mind," he said emphatically. He held his hand out to me. "Please excuse my bad manners. I shouldn't keep you standing while I rant and rave. Clark Esselmann. You caught me in the middle of my daily romp with the dog. I don't believe we've met."
    I introduced myself. His grip was firm, but I could detect a slight tremor in his fingers. Up close, I could see that his color was poor. He looked anemic, and the flesh on the back of his right hand was bruised from some medical procedure. Still, he had a certain hardy determination that seemed to prevail in the face of his recurring health problems.
    "Dad, you're not seriously thinking of trying to make it to a board meeting."
    "You can bet on it," he said.
    "You just got home. You're in no shape. The doctor doesn't even want you driving yet."
    "I can take a taxi if need be. Or I can have Ned pick me up."
    "I don't mind driving you. That's not the point," she said. "I really think you ought to take it easy for a few days."
    "Nonsense! I'm not so old or infirm that I can't make decisions about what I'll do on any given day. Now if you girls will excuse me, I'm going up to take a rest before dinner. It's been a pleasure, Miss Millhone. I hope the next time we meet, you'll find me decently dressed. I don't usually meet the public in my bathrobe."
    Serena touched his arm. "You need help getting up the stairs?"
    "Thankfully, I don't," he said. He moved from the room with a shuffling gait that nevertheless propelled him at nearly normal speeds. As he passed the basement, he reached over and opened the door. The dog must have been lurking at the top of the stairs because he appeared at once and trotted after the old man, glancing