W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone Mystery)

the bag of birdseed and come up with this.”
    She pulled her left hand from behind her back and held up a thick stack of bills folded in half and secured with a silver clip. The outermost denomination was a one. “He keeps small bills on the outside,” she said when she saw my look.
    “How much?”
    “I didn’t count. I figured if he robbed a bank, the cops would want to dust for prints.”
    “You don’t really think he robbed a bank.”
    “I don’t know what to think.”
    “Didn’t he say he was setting money aside for a cruise?”
    “He said whatever sounded good. He never had this much money in his life.”
    I stared at her and then stared at the wad of bills.
    Sheepishly, she said, “Okay, I did peek just a little bit. The bills on the inside are hundreds. Lots of them.”
    She handed me the money clip. I sat down at the table and riffled the corners of the bills. “I’d say two or three thousand dollars.”
    “That’s my guess.”
    She took out saucers and coffee cups and filled both from a thermos. She put a small pitcher of milk on the table and set the sugar bowl close by. Then she sat down. “You know what bugs me? The bill collectors were hounding him. And I mean, hounding him. A lot of it was nickel-and-dime stuff. I’m not saying the bills weren’t overdue, but some were in the two- to three-hundred-dollar range. There wasn’t anything major, except maybe his back rent. It burns my ass to think how many debts he could have paid off with money like that.”
    “You know how he was. I’m sure in his mind, paying bills wasn’t any fun. That’s why he avoided it. I’m sure he felt better saving for a trip, which was at least something positive.”
    “Oh, right, and thanks a bunch, pal. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that plan.”
    “If it’s any comfort, he probably hadn’t booked anything.”
    “Be thankful for small favors.”
    I put the clip of money on the table between us. “What are you thinking the source for this is?”
    “You go first.”
    “No, you first. You were married to him.”
    “I think he was extorting money from someone. Mid-July, he told me business was looking up. He had some kind of job he thought might net him a paycheck. I think ‘a handsome chunk of change’ is the phrase he used.”
    “Well, he did pick up a job running surveillance in Reno. That’s the work he asked Dietz to cover for him.”
    Ruthie thought about that while the two of us stared at the wad of money. “Do you really believe that’s where it came from?”
    “No.”
    Ruthie actually laughed. “I appreciate your honesty. I thought chances were good that it was hush money of some kind. Who was the victim? Do you have any idea?”
    “Pete had only one job in the last six months as far as we could tell. There are two or three people associated with that client, and of those, only one has money—a doctor out at UCST with something to hide. I was in his office less than an hour ago and there’s something off. Somehow Pete picked up a whiff of it and cashed in. I can’t prove it, of course, but I’d lay odds.”
    “Honestly, I’m not saying I approve. All I’m saying is if my husband was a crook, I wish he’d been better at money management,” she said.
    “With Pete, there’s always something to forgive,” I said.
    “So what do you advise? You think I should go to the police?”
    “And say what? At this point you really don’t know anything for sure. That’s part of what I’m trying to work out myself. I do think you have a point about preserving fingerprints. As long as you don’t intend to spend the money, I’d leave it alone. Hide it somewhere good.”
    “Oh, you bet.” She propped her chin on her fist. “I wasn’t sure you knew about his tendency to play fast and loose. I wouldn’t have said anything myself, but you understand where he was coming from.”
    “I knew him in the good old days and he wasn’t exactly a model citizen back then. Sweet guy,” I added in haste.
    “I can’t tell you how much I miss him.” Her smile was pained. “I guess one of these days I’ll get used to it.”

32
    When I arrived home, there was a parking spot right in front, which I took as a good sign. As I rounded the corner, moving into the backyard, I saw Henry in the act of closing his garage doors. He turned and picked up his four heavy plastic grocery bags, two in each hand.
    “I thought you’d already done your grocery shopping.”
    “These are