Point Blank

like.”
    Cynthia strolled over to the front windows, pulled back the heavy brocade curtain and looked out. Cold air flooded the room. She closed the window as she said over her shoulder, “Tony’s afraid to leave, afraid he’ll fall on his face if he does, or that Chappy will disinherit him.”
    She shrugged. “Christie could have talked him into leaving, but I can’t. I wish she wasn’t dead, Dix, I really miss her.”
    “You didn’t appear to appreciate her all that much when she was here, Cynthia. Why the change of heart now?”
    “I know better now, I guess.” Cynthia turned away from the window and paced the full length of the twenty-five-foot library before she turned back again. “Are you here for lunch? Mrs. Goss didn’t say anything to me.”
    “No, we’re not here for lunch. For one thing, I wanted to ask you some questions about Chappy’s whereabouts last Friday night.”
    “Goodness, that was when you found Ruth, wasn’t it? Chappy was here late, that’s all I know. What did he tell you?”
    “That he was here, working in his office,” Dix said. “How about Tony? Where was he?”
    “Making me a very happy woman, at least after about ten o’clock Friday evening. He was at the bank all day, I suppose. He usually is. He left for a couple of hours after dinner. He didn’t say where he was going and I didn’t ask. When he came back, he had a bottle of champagne under his arm, a big smile on his face. He wanted to be with me right away, so we went upstairs to bed. I remember Chappy was home because he knocked on our bedroom door about eleven o’clock, demanding to know what I was doing to his son. I was glad I’m always careful to lock the door. That wasn’t the first time he did that.”
    Dix didn’t think Chappy had been interested in sex since his wife died so many years before. “He probably wanted to give the two of you grief. Tony didn’t tell you where he went after dinner?”
    “He probably went back to the bank. He tries to be anywhere his father isn’t. I’d had another fight on the phone with my mother and I was fuming, not really paying attention to anyone.” She yawned. “Fighting with Chappy always exhausts me. Maybe I’ll drive to Richmond, do some shopping; it’ll help me forget.”
    “You’re not going to Erin’s memorial?” Ruth asked.
    “I really didn’t know her all that well, now did I?” Cynthia yawned and rose.
    “I DON’T KNOW why I bother,” Dix said some minutes later as they walked to the Range Rover. “Oh yes, Tony did work late at the bank last Friday evening, according to the security guard, and he was there all day, according to the employees and Tony’s secretary. As for Chappy, Mrs. Goss claims he was gone during the day on Friday, but she doesn’t know where he went. He never explains anything to anyone. I’ll ask him about it directly.”
    “Have you heard anything from Richmond about who might have hired Dempsey and Slater to kill me?”
    “Not a thing from either the field agents or the Richmond PD. I’ll give Detective Morales a call, maybe promise him you’ll have dinner with him if he comes through. You like Italian, don’t you?”
    Ruth grinned. “It’s a toss-up, Dix, between your stew and spaghetti Bolognese.”
    ERIN BUSHNELL’S MEMORIAL was held in the large auditorium in Gainsborough Hall. A dozen lavish wreaths were set up around the stage, and a two-by-three-foot color photograph of Erin playing her violin hung from the ceiling. She looked so young, Ruth thought. The auditorium was filled to capacity. Dix would bet every student and professor at Stanislaus was there. Those who couldn’t find seating were huddled against the walls and sitting on the steps in the aisles. He saw a lot of townies, too, sprinkled throughout the auditorium.
    He and Ruth got lots of looks, some of them frowns, some tentative greetings. Erin’s parents were a conservative-looking couple, pale and silent, unable, he imagined, to come to grips with their daughter’s violent death. He’d met them, expressed his sympathy, when they first arrived. He had lost his wife, but he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child. He thought of Rafe and Rob, and losing them would be the biggest hit life could dish out.
    They would never find out exactly what was done to their daughter, if he could help it. Drugged and stabbed, that was horrible enough without adding the rest. Dix could only hope the half dozen people who knew