The Art of Murder (Dead-End Job Mystery) by Viets Elaine

Author:Viets, Elaine [Viets, Elaine]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Clay said, as he stood at a podium near the window. A feedback screech from the microphone stopped him for a moment, until he adjusted the mic and began again.

“Dear friends and colleagues of my beloved wife. Please excuse the emotional display from one of Annabel’s friends. I know that this is a difficult day for all who loved Annabel. We will begin our memorial service shortly.”

Clay appeared unruffled by Lita’s accusations. He smoothly spackled over her harsh words. The memorial guests chatted and refreshed their drinks, while the string quartet played a transcription of a Bach fugue. The sound seemed to drive the last traces of Lita’s dark words from the room as the remaining storm clouds scudded across the sky.

Helen stood in line for another club soda and found herself behind Burt Pelham, the Palmetto Hills crimes against persons detective.

“Ms. Hawthorne,” he said. “How are you on this sad occasion?” His tone was oddly formal and his New York accent fit right in at the Silver Glade Condominiums.

“Detective,” Helen said. She nodded and felt her sludgy brain shift in her skull.

“I’d like to speak to you,” he said. “Later today if possible.” Helen thought his cheap, brassy blond hair was a jarring note with his well-tailored dark suit. Men never seemed to get dyed hair right.

“I’ll be happy to meet with you, Detective, but I’m not sure there’s anything I can say.”

“Then perhaps you’ll listen to what I have to say,” he said. “Four o’clock, then? At your office?”

“I’ll be there, Detective,” Helen said.

She spotted Robert Horton across the room, drinking white wine and admiring the panoramic view from the high windows. The gallery owner seemed an oasis of calm command after Lita’s ugly scene.

The sun was out now, dancing on the impossibly blue ocean, filling the room with dazzling light. A rainbow lit the sky. Clay stepped up to the podium again and said, “I feel that Annabel is smiling on us all. The Reverend Patti Zgorski will lead us in a prayer.”

A small woman with a brown bob and a dark suit stepped up and said, “Our Father, who art in heaven . . .”

After the simple, moving prayer, Clay was back at the podium.

“I will miss my lovely wife, her courage, her talent, her love of nature. One of the last things she said to me was, ‘Clay, we’ve been so happy together. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. I hope you’ll remember that, no matter what happens.’

“I didn’t realize,” Clay said, and his voice wobbled to a stop. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I didn’t realize she was telling me good-bye. I didn’t pay enough attention to her suffering. I didn’t understand that she had reached the end of her strength. I thought it was limitless.

“Annabel, as you know, had a troubled life, mentally and physically, despite her great talent—maybe because of her tremendous talent. The two do seem to go hand in hand.

“But she was always a fighter.

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