Point Blank

gall? Sex education! Me!”
    “And Gloria Stanford? Was she unreasonable in her demands, too? Like mother, like daughter?”
    A ruminative pause, Dix thought. “She’s immensely talented, you know that, Dix, but the fact is we were never really that attracted to each other. She never criticized me like her bitch of a daughter.”
    Before he punched off, Dix warned Gordon, “Don’t even think about calling Ginger, Gordon. If you do I won’t give you an extra blanket in your cell.”
    “SHERIFF, AGENT, WHAT are you doing here?” Henry O was on his feet, the question out of his mouth the moment Dix and Ruth came into the office. “Oh, I see. You don’t know anything more than the last time you were here, do you?”
    Good, Dix thought, Gordon hadn’t called. Henry O looked natty in a crisp white shirt and well-made dark gray wool trousers, belted high.
    “Actually, Henry, we’re here to arrest Ms. Stanford,” Ruth told him. She gave him a little wave and kept walking, Dix behind her.
    “Are you nuts? You don’t arrest a lawyer; she’ll sue your socks off. Wait, wait! Oh, lordie, Ms. Ginger, they rolled over me!”
    “Hard to believe,” Ginger Stanford said, rising slowly, dropping her beautiful black pen on the desktop. “
    It’s okay, Henry. They’re not going to snap on the cuffs, I don’t think, are you, Dix?”
    Dix gently shoved Henry out and closed the door. “Good morning, Ginger. Time for you to tell us about your short, uninspired affair with Gordon Holcombe.”
    Ginger laughed. “Oh, sit down, both of you. You pried it out of him, did you? Yes, I slept with Gordon, and what a colossal mistake that was. No, simply a waste of my time. I really thought he’d be good. I can’t tell you how many times he gave me this intense, hungry look, but he was just a fumbling old man. I gave him a couple of chances, then kissed him off. End of story. You don’t actually think I had anything to do with those horrible murders, do you?”
    Ruth asked, “Did you tell your mother about it?”
    “Actually, I did. She only laughed and said she slept with him a couple of times herself, and agreed with me. Men of a certain age, she told me, usually aren’t adventurous or innovative, just happy if everything goes smoothly. She told me she lost her rose-colored glasses long ago, that there are very few men who know anything, and if they do, they usually don’t care, just hope for a fake orgasm to let them off the hook. She said the only thing she got from Gordon was a good interpretation pointer on Bartók’s Sonata for Solo Violin.” Ginger laughed.
    “Why do you call your mother Gloria?” Ruth asked.
    “What? Oh, Gloria. Well, the thing is she was gone practically all of my growing-up years, touring, you know. My dad checked out when I was ten, couldn’t take his wife being gone, couldn’t deal with me anymore, whatever. I was raised by two nannies, both of whom I still call Mom. She’s always been Gloria. Don’t get me wrong, I love and admire her, and she is my mother, when all’s said and done. I’m here, aren’t I?”
    “Why did you move to Maestro when she did? What was it? Six months after Christie and Dix moved here?”
    She cocked her head at Ruth, poured some water out of a Pellegrino bottle into a crystal glass and sipped. “Christie and I went to school together. We were close.”
    Dix pointed out, “But you had a very nice practice in New York City, didn’t you?”
    Ginger said at last, “You’re a bulldog, Dix. Okay, there was a man in New York. It didn’t work out. Yes, he was married and I was stupid enough to believe him when he swore the marriage was over. He set the fool’s cap right on my head. I thought moving far away would make everything better—and it did, for the most part. May I ask why Gordon told you about me and my mother? Why is that any of your concern?”
    Dix asked, “Were you angry that he slept with your mother?”
    “Good heavens, no. Look, Dix, Gloria didn’t see that many men after my father went walkabout. Gordon is a talented man, and he can be a real charmer. I had no reason to mind. It might even have turned out well for her if he’d been different. He probably slithered out the door because Gloria didn’t fawn over him like he wanted her to, and why should she? She’s not twenty-two years old and ignorant as a stump. She’s more talented, more famous, and far richer than he’ll ever be.”
    Ruth said, “You don’t think Gordon