“Always the way with poison cases,” said Silvestri. “It ought by rights to be a woman, but the pickings are lean.”
“Women like a more normal brew. However, there is a woman — Millie. It’s her poison, she made it.”
“Millie didn’t do it,” the Commissioner said abruptly.
“I know, she’s an open book,” said Carmine. “There are two other women with motive, but they don’t have the know-how, John. Davina Tunbull and Uda Savovich. We’ve been digging for a week and come up with nothing that suggests either woman would know tetrodotoxin from tetrachloride — unless Davina is in cahoots with Jim. The only death I can see the Savovich women perpetrating is Emily Tunbull’s. She fits their bill, the others don’t. I keep coming back to Jim Hunter, but if he did it, he’s likely to get away with it because there’s nothing in evidence that points to him that doesn’t point to Millie as well, and Millie’s sacrosanct.”
“With good reason,” Silvestri said stubbornly.
“And around we go again.”
“Did you search Tinkerman’s study at his home?”
“Every last sheet of paper. He dealt with his bills himself, paid them. A testament to his stinginess. Tinkerman even listed his wife’s allowance as a bill.” Carmine put his elbows on the desk and his chin on his hands. “We found nothing.”
“Is there some other glaring mistake we’ve overlooked?”
“With Delia on the job? I doubt it.”
“So do I.”
This time Davina drove to Major Minor’s to meet Chez; she hadn’t realized how far it was to walk, and the days of the Yugoslavian Alps were long past. She parked around the back and walked to the coffee shop through an arcade of grisly photographs. Major Minor, thought Davina, is a pervert.
“At the rate the cops are going, you might be here until Christmas and still not see Emily’s killer,” she said, sitting down and flashing that smile at the waitress.
“Does anyone in the family know why Emily was killed?”
“No, and Uda hasn’t heard anything.”
“What am I going to do with you, Vina?”
Her eyes narrowed. “In relation to what?”
“Certain New York City activities.”
“Ah! That’s why you’re here! Worried that you might be extradited from Florida to New York for something?” Davina asked sweetly. “I knew it wasn’t Emily. You’d just send her a diamond wreath.”
“Shut up!” he snapped.
“Relax, Chez, I’m not going to upset your apple cart any more than you’re going to upset mine. So far the cops haven’t noticed you, but they will, and they’re smart, Chez. I’m an ostrich with my head in the sand, but I’m well aware what a good target my ass makes.” She leaned forward; the waitress would not have liked this smile. “Leave me alone! I am set for life, and I like the life I’m living. You don’t scare me! Nothing does! If I need help, I have Uda, never forget that. I am cultured now. I have a child I adore. I am not letting you ruin my life! I — am — not!”
“I want Em’s killer caught.”
“I don’t care what you want. Leave me alone!”
He really does make a room look small, Max Tunbull reflected as he sat, an attentive expression on his face, gazing at Dr. Jim Hunter.
“Publication Day is April second,” Max said.
“Less than three months off,” Dr. Jim said, smiling. “I can hardly believe it. I always thought writing the book would be the worst agony, but it was nothing compared to Tinkerman. I wish harm to no one, but with Dr. Millstone as Head Scholar, things will be different. He’s everything I could ask for.”
“Davina had a talk with him,” Max said, then stopped.
Jim looked enquiring. “And?”
“I don’t honestly know how to say this, nor do I understand why I was given this duty, but the crux of the matter is that C.U.P. has no publicity department,” said Max, laboring. “It never really needed one, even for Fire Down Below — the book about earthquakes that was a big bestseller five years ago. But everybody from Davina to the Board of Scholars thinks that your book needs a professional publicist. Fulvia and Bettina have found one for you. Her name is Pamela Devane, she’s a freelance working out of New York City, and she’s the best in the business. Chauce Millstone and Davina have both talked with her — she’s on the ball. She’s planning a month-long publicity tour for April — New York City, Boston, Chicago, Washington D.C., Atlanta, San Francisco, L.A., Seattle, Denver, St. Louis — about twenty cities in all. Some, like New York and L.A., take several days. TV talk shows, radio shows, newspaper and magazine interviews, a few more esoteric things. Millie has to go with you to participate in some interviews …” Max trailed off, disconcerted.