Lie of the Needle(38)

            I set down my fork and glanced at Joe, reading the same concern in his eyes.

            “How about another cosmo, Martha?” he said. “You look like you could use one.” He got up and fixed her another drink without waiting for an answer. Joe was a very attentive host, sometimes overly so, but we all lived within walking distance of one another.

            After Joe and I had finished eating and Jasper had inhaled his portion of pot roast, Joe said, “I’ll do the dishes tonight. Why don’t you girls go and relax?”

            Martha and I took our drinks into the study and set them on the steamer trunk that served as a coffee table. The color was coming back to her pale cheeks. Joe had been right. She needed this tonight.

            Flames leapt in the fireplace, and for a while there was no sound except for the crackling of the logs and the hiss of fresh wood succumbing to the heat. Martha sipped her cocktail and stared into the fire. There were stress lines around her mouth evidencing the toll that the past couple of sleepless nights had wreaked on her freckled skin.

            I couldn’t bear this sad Martha. She was always my warm comfort and stalwart refuge from the storms of life, ebullient and fearless, large and in charge, as she liked to say. My heart ached for my best friend, helpless to give her any guarantees that Cyril would ever come back.

            “Hey, Martha,” I whispered. “You remember when we were at Cyril’s trailer? Did you happen to notice that weather vane propped up against the living room wall?”

            If Cyril was alive, he’d be mad that I spoiled the surprise, but I couldn’t worry about that right now. If this disappearing act was just about the fact that he craved some personal space, then too bad. He shouldn’t be putting her through this stress.

            She nodded slowly. “It was beautiful.”

            “He’s going to give it to you for Christmas. You should have seen it when he first bought it, all blackened and dented. He spent hours, I mean hours, on restoration. You don’t spend that much time on a present for someone you don’t care for. Deeply.”

            A tear trickled down her cheek. “I fancy that the weather vane is trying to point me in the right direction to find him, Daisy. That little guy has wangled his way into my heart like no one else. I mean, I loved Teddy very much, don’t get me wrong, but it’s as if Cyril needs me more.”

            I nodded, my throat tight. I handed her a tissue, and she patted at the dark shadows under her eyes.

            I racked my brain for something to cheer her up. “Oh, Martha, here’s a tidbit I forgot to tell you before. I saw Ruth Bornstein in town today.” Here I paused for dramatic effect. “With a very good-looking man in his forties. He had his arm around her waist.”

            Martha gasped, and I saw a hint of a sparkle in her eyes from the injection of some life-giving gossip. “Good God! Isn’t she supposed to be sitting shivah all week? What do you suppose is going on there?”

            I sat back, gratified by this properly impressed reaction to the news that I hadn’t received from Serrano or Angus.

            “You know, according to my sources, Ruth had a prenup,” she said. “Stanley made a fortune with his pharmaceutical research and those patents of his, and she had to be married a certain number of years before he died to collect. I would expect that the time period is up by now, but if she divorced him, she got nothing.”

            “Did she kill him to get the money?” I mused. “He would have died soon anyway. Why not wait? Was she getting impatient?” My mind was racing now. “They didn’t have any children. Do you know if Stanley had any other heirs?”

            “I don’t know.” She stood up and swayed a little, whether from weariness with my questions or the cosmos, I wasn’t sure. “Daisy, I’d better go. Suddenly I’m very tired.”