Point Blank

face.
    “Looks good,” Chappy said, “even the salad.”
    “Control yourself,” Mrs. Goss said and swished back to the kitchen.
    “You’re in for a treat, Agent,” Chappy said to Ruth. “Mrs. Goss makes the best shrimp salad in Virginia, and she knows it.”
    “That may be,” Cynthia said. “But she should wear an apron over her ridiculous hippie outfits.”
    “She’s a gypsy, not a hippie,” Chappy said, annoyance in his dark eyes if not in his voice. “She doesn’t press her bosom in your face, Cynthia, only mine. Otherwise I wouldn’t see any bosoms at all. Leave her alone.”
    Mrs. Goss finished serving, seemingly oblivious, and left them to it, her large silver hoop earrings flashing in the sunlight.
    “Cynthia, tell me about Erin Bushnell,” Dix said. “Tony said you two were like sisters.”
    Cynthia replied calmly, “Tony is out of date. Erin and I got along nicely until she started eyeing my husband. Her death, well, it’s a great shock, as you can imagine, because at one time we were quite close. I still grieve for her.”
    Dix said, “So Tony didn’t know how you felt? He saw your grief and believed you and Erin were still as close as before?”
    “Erin never came on to me, Cynthia, never,” Tony said.
    “I saw her pull you into the moonlight last Tuesday night at that cocktail party Gloria Stanford threw. It was cold that night, but that didn’t stop either of you.”
    Tony speared a shrimp on his fork and stared at it. “I don’t even remember that. I’m surprised you noticed, since you were flirting with Uncle Gordon.”
    Chappy set his fork on his plate, leaned back in his chair, and laughed until it was the only sound in the dining room. He said to Ruth on a hiccup, “You look shell-shocked, Agent Warnecki. It’s always a circus between the two of them.”
    One of Dix’s black eyebrows shot up. “Add you to the mix, Chappy, and we’ve got the wild animal act.”
    “Nah, I’m as tame as your little Brewster.”
    “Brewster thinks he’s a Doberman.”
    Tony asked Dix, “You find out yet who hired those guys to kill Agent Warnecki on Saturday night?”
    The question brought the conversation to a halt. Ruth could hear Mrs. Goss humming in the kitchen. Chappy said into the heart of the silence, “Dix probably doesn’t want to talk about it, Tony. Fact is, identifying them may not be possible. I heard the bodies were badly burned. That right, Dix?”
    Dix shrugged. “We’ll see. The FBI forensic lab is using their fingerprint recognition program on the partial prints we have. We’re looking for where the men might have come from. We may have something more to go on soon.”
    “But you’ve got no leads now, right, Dix?” Chappy asked him.
    “Oh, we’re managing to keep busy,” Dix said easily, sitting back and lacing his fingers over his belly. Chappy suddenly said, “Dix, I heard you found poor old Walt McGuffey murdered in his own house. Another shock like that and you’ll have to bury me. Who would want to kill him? Oh, I see. Someone must have thought Walt saw something he shouldn’t since he lives near the other entrance to Winkel’s Cave.”
    “That’s possible,” Dix said. “Walt was a fine gentleman, and Christie really loved him. He was devastated when she disappeared.” He didn’t mention finding Ruth’s Beemer in the shed. He turned to Cynthia. “I find it surprising that you and Erin Bushnell were such good friends. I haven’t seen you make friends with any women in town.”
    “I grew up with three women at home, Dix,” Cynthia said, “and they were world-class bitches all, if that gives you some idea of why I never bothered. I believed Erin was different, but she wasn’t. Yes, she made a show of affection for Uncle Gordon, but only to throw me off her real objective, which was my own husband. That’s why she spent so much time with me here, at Tara. She wanted to see you, Tony.”
    “Or maybe,” Chappy said, voice sly, “both of you had the hots for old Twister.”
    “That’s not funny, Chappy. He’s nearly as old as you are,” Cynthia said. “How much longer before you grow up?”
    Dix said quickly, “So you think Ginger’s wrong about Erin loving Dr. Holcombe, Cynthia?”
    Cynthia shrugged one of her thin, elegant shoulders under her dark red St. John knit top. “Ginger would say anything to make you happy, wouldn’t she, Dix? Everyone but you knows she’d love to jump your bones. Now, her mother, Gloria