The Groaning Board

it was the vet’s story about Jimmy. Maybe
it was the gossip columns and the emotional upheaval... • Maybe it was
everything, culminating in Micklynn’s death. What was she doing here anyway?
    “Are you all right, Leslie?” A.T.
asked. “You’ve lost your color.”
    “I’m fine. It’s the heat, I guess.
What a shame Ellen isn’t going to Johns Hopkins. How could that happen when she
won the place?”
    “You tell me. I have nothing against
Jews, some of my best friends are Jewish, but, really, when the teacher, who is
Jewish, chooses another child, who’s also Jewish, over Ellen, don’t you think
that’s questionable? We protested the decision.”
    “By we , you mean Micklynn?”
    “Oh, no. Micklynn did nothing,
absolutely nothing. Ellen was very hurt. I tried everything in my power to get
the headmaster to see how suspect the decision was. But then, of course, the
teacher happened to be one of Micklynn’s friends.”
    “Oh, that’s the woman who died.
Sheila Gelber.”
    “Yes.”
    “Micklynn told me she wanted to go
into a mail-order business with Sheila.”
    “That was one of Micklynn’s many
illusions. Or delusions, I should say. Our partnership contract would never
have allowed it. Micklynn got crazy ideas when she was drink-ing, which was
almost constant over the last two years.”
    “I wonder if you know that Micklynn
hired me to try to find who killed Sheila Gelber.”
    The spring uncoiled. A.T. sprang from
the sofa waving her arms. “See. See what I mean about delusional? I hope she
didn’t pay you out of our company funds?”
    “She paid me with a personal check. I
didn’t think she was delusional. I think she was a very unhappy woman.” Wetzon
rose. “I won’t keep you any longer. I hope you’ll mention our offer to Ellen.”
    “I will,” A.T. said warily.
    As they moved back down the gallery
toward the door, Wetzon said, “Your plants are very beautiful.”
    “Yes, they are, aren’t they?”
    “Didn’t you tell me once that you
couldn’t grow anything? A black thumb is what you said.”
    A.T. smiled. “A black thumb. Yes,
that’s me. Can’t grow even a cactus. The plants are Ellen’s. She’s a wonder.”
    Wetzon took the elevator to the
lobby. Ellen had the wherewithal; A.T. had the same. If Ellen thought she’d
inherit, she had motive. And the partnership agreement, as written, gave A.T. a
superb motive for murder.
    Minnie Wu was a callous bitch who was
insanely jealous of every woman Hem looked at, and Minnie and Hem had a
greenhouse full of azaleas. Hem wanted to do The Groaning Board IPO and
Micklynn stood in his way.
    Then there was still the inexplicable
Todd Cameron.
    She got out of the elevator and
walked toward the lobby entrance, stopped short. Ellen was in a car in front of
the building. As the girl started to get out, Wetzon did an about-face and
fast-walked through the courtyard and out via the uptown entrance.
    Once outside, she raced around the
block to the other entrance in time to see Bill Veeder’s black Mercedes make a
turn onto the Drive and speed off.

Chapter fifty-Two

     
     
     
    “Birdie,
darling, it’s a question only you can answer. You’re not the first person in the world who’s
gotten involved with a married man.” He spun her around and two-stepped her out
of the traffic. Carlos had taken Wetzon to Denim and Diamonds in the Lexington
Hotel to dance Western, which meant two-step, couples, and line dancing, the
latter a craze these days in New York.
    “Not me, Carlos. Never. I always
thought about the wife. The wife. Bill has a wife in name only.”
    “How Back Street of you,
darling.”
    “See, you’re not taking me
seriously.”
    “ Au
contraire. It is definitely
a most serious situation you’ve gotten yourself into.”
    She tilted her head. Was he twitting
her? “You’re being his advocate.”
    “No, I’m your advocate and I always
will be.”
    “The newspapers make me sound like
some kind of bimbo.”
    “I think they call girls like you
Twinkies now.” He ducked when she swatted him. “Get real, Dear Heart. No way
could you ever impersonate either a bimbo or a Twinkie. You’re a bit too long
in the tooth.”
    “Thank you. I think.”
    “And what important, caring people in
your life would pay attention to what those columns say?”
    “You. Laura Lee.”
    “No. We read them because they’re
titillating; what is said in them is meaningless.”
    “In other words, I’m making a big
deal over