She shook her head. “No. I don’t know anyone from there. Except the manager, Rich. He was the best man at our wedding.”
Ah. Mr. Creepy.
Remembering him caused my hair to stand on end.
“So, you know Rich pretty well?”
Svetlana adjusted her shawl. “He was a friend of Brad’s. They were friends for long time, but he’s not reliable. When you need a friend, you cannot depend on Rich.” She looked down at her hands. “The police call my house to know where I was June fifteenth. I was home. Alone. I don’t go out much anymore. Not since . . .” She studied her nails.
I drank another shot of tea and waited in silence. After a moment she said, “My baby drowned. Three years ago.”
Every mother’s nightmare. My heart tightened and I suddenly felt panicky. Tears flooded my eyes. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry to hear that!”
I grabbed another napkin to wipe my eyes. Svetlana was crying freely, not making any noise, just letting the tears, blackened by mascara, fall down her face.
I pulled Laurie’s car seat closer to me and glanced down at her sleeping angel face.
“Brad always blamed me . . . now the police come to ask questions, and Gloria has an investigator. Baby dead, Brad dead. Gloria think only person can be responsible is Svetlana. But I never hurt my baby, or Brad.”
“Why would Brad blame you?”
“I took Penny to the park. There is a big lake . . . they had little boats to rent. I thought she’d have fun . . .” Her eyes glazed over. “I was buying popcorn. Penny by my side. She was two. They don’t listen. I told her to stay by my side. Then a stranger talking to me, someone spilled a soda, someone yelling . . . When I turn around, Penny gone. She fall in the lake. I can’t swim, but I jump in. People help us, but it was too late. I was in hospital for long time.” She pointed to her temple. “Depression. Brad blamed me. Gloria blamed me. I blamed me, too. But doctors say it wasn’t my fault.”
I put my hand on hers. She held my hand a moment, then said, “I tell you, Kate. I didn’t hurt Brad, but I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
We sat in awkward silence. The waitress swung our way. “Anything else, ladies?”
Svetlana looked at me and asked, “Kate?”
Before I could I answer, the waitress said, “I’ll leave the dessert menu. Give it a look and let me know.”
Svetlana squinted at the menu, then held it farther away. She pulled her handbag off the back of the chair and rummaged through it. She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t have my glasses.”
I read the dessert menu out loud. Each cake, pie, and pastry was paired with a recommended wine.
“Oooh, who can resist the ‘chocolate trio’?” I raised my eyebrows at Svetlana. “A sampling of three chocolate desserts: the chocolate mousse, an orange chocolate pâté in a filo coconut crust, and warm chocolate bread pudding.”
Svetlana listened and smiled. “Sounds good. But no. I will have wine. And you?”
No fun eating chocolate by yourself.
“Nothing for me.”
Svetlana waved down the waitress and ordered a chardonnay.
My heart quickened.
Relax, Kate. Everybody drinks wine. It doesn’t mean a thing.
I poured myself another shot of tea. “Svetlana, can you tell me where you were yesterday morning?”
Her face registered surprise. “Yesterday? I stay home. Sometimes I still . . . it’s not good. I know. But sometimes I still feel depression.”
“Did you talk to anyone? Can anyone verify you were home?” Now I was starting to sound like Galigani.
Hmmm.
Svetlana shook her head. “When I get depression, I get a migraine, too. So I don’t talk to anyone, just try to sleep. Why?”
“I found Michelle Avery dead yesterday.”
Svetlana inhaled a deep sharp breath, then closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her temples. “Oh, no!” she gasped, leaning forward in her chair as the waitress placed the chardonnay in front of her.
Svetlana pushed the wine aside. “Migraine coming on.”
“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked.
“No. No. Thank you. Must go. Very sorry, Kate.” She dug into her purse and pulled money out. When she placed it on the table, her face contorted in pain.
“Don’t worry about that,” I said.
She waved off my concern about the bill. She kissed her fingers and wiggled them at Laurie, then disappeared through the side door.
I sat in silence, starting at Svetlana’s wine. She hadn’t known about Michelle? I leaned forward and peeked at Laurie. Still snoozing. The wine beckoned me. Oh well, a small sip wouldn’t hurt. I sipped the wine and scribbled “Missing glasses, drinks chardonnay, but was surprised about Michelle . . . ?” onto a napkin.