V Is for Vengeance

they turned off, I waved and drove home. I couldn’t believe cops were so distrustful.

18

    NORA

    Channing arrived in Montebello Saturday afternoon. He’d called from Malibu ostensibly to let her know he was on his way. She suspected his true intention was to test the waters on the home front, angling to see if his cover had been blown. She’d made a point of being pleasant on the phone, playing the conversation at exactly the right pitch, her manner easy and light. Certainly, there was none of the tension and fury he must have anticipated. As the exchange went on, she could hear him relax, relief seeping into his tone. She glossed over the particulars of how she’d spent her Wednesday afternoon, laying in just enough detail to make it convincing. She knew how anxious he’d be to avoid discovery. His feelings for Thelma were running high and he’d be determined to hold on to her. Eventually, he’d tire of her, but for now his affair provided all the thrills and suspense of a spy novel.
    Nora heard his tires crunching in the gravel courtyard. She went downstairs, breathing deeply, like an actress getting into her role. Wednesday night was accounted for. The symphony had run ninety minutes. Afterward, she and Belinda and Nan had a bite to eat at a bistro across the street. Nora had picked up the check so Channing could see it for himself when the Visa bill came in. Lest he harbor any doubt, she’d tossed her concert program on the kitchen counter as though by oversight. Now all she had to do was explain the missing clothes.
    Channing came into the kitchen from the garage, where he’d parked his car. He’d stopped at the mailbox and picked up the day’s delivery, so he was already separating the magazines from the catalogs. He put both stacks on the kitchen counter and glanced at the program in passing. “Mahler’s Sixth. I didn’t know you were a fan.”
    Nora smiled as she lifted her face so he could kiss her cheek. “Nan’s idea. She read a biography that suggested he stole the melodic line from a piano duet by Weber. There was also this whole big brouhaha about whether the scherzo should precede or follow the andante. I know it sounds tedious, but it was fun knowing what went on behind the scenes.”
    “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
    “I did. Very much so. Sissy and Jess were there, but I didn’t have a chance to talk to either one of them. What about you? How was your evening?”
    “I changed my mind about going. When it came right down to it, I wasn’t in the mood.”
    “Really? You seemed so set on being there.”
    “I had a hard day at work and I couldn’t bear the idea of getting into a tux. On the way home, I stopped at Tony’s and picked up an order of ribs.”
    “Bad boy. If I’d known you were going to play hooky, I’d have made a point of joining you. What happened to your table for ten?”
    “I guess there were two empty seats instead of one.”
    She smiled. “Oh, well. The money went for a good cause so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
    “We have something on for tonight?”
    “Dinner with the Hellers at Nine Palms.”
    “What time?”
    “Six thirty for drinks. Dinner reservation’s at seven, but Mitchell said he’d seat us whenever we were ready.”
    “Good. Sounds like fun.”
    Nora took the teakettle from the stove and carried it to the sink, filling it from the filtered-water tap. “Did you notice all my formal wear was gone?”
    She could see the caution rise in him. “I just got here.”
    “Not here. Malibu.”
    He opened a piece of mail and glanced at the contents. “Went right by me,” he said. “What’s the story?”
    “I had Mrs. Stumbo drive down Wednesday and bring everything back. I would have called to tell you, but I’d talked to you once and I didn’t want to bother you again.”
    “You’re not a bother when you call.”
    “Thank you. That’s sweet, but I don’t like being a pest when it’s not important. At any rate, when I realized I wouldn’t be coming down last week, I asked her to take care of it. She dropped the whole carload at the cleaners so at least that’s out of the way.”
    “I don’t understand. Did I miss something here?”
    “Spring cleaning. A closet purge. I’ve had some of those gowns for years, and half of them don’t fit. I’ll keep the best ones, and any I don’t want I’ll donate to the Fashion Institute.”
    She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “Would you like a cup of