Back inside her beloved home, the unmasked Davina went about mending poor Max. It wouldn’t be done in a day, but it would be done. Max was a mere sixty years old; he would last long enough to see Alexis grow to manhood, the competent and crafty head of Tunbull Printing. The breaks in him were of her making and could be camouflaged. Right at this moment he didn’t believe it, but when this business was over, he’d go back to being a creature full of confidence and self-esteem. A suitable father for Alexis.
The hearing before Judge Thwaites was brief. Ably argued by Anthony Bera, bail was eventually set at $50,000. This pathetic and obviously damaged little woman was no poisoning mastermind, that was clearly written on His Honor’s face. Released into the custody of her sister, Uda went home to wait for her trial, not yet scheduled.
“You can never tell with Doubting Doug how he’ll go at arraignment,” said Carmine to Abe, “but how His Honor goes at arraignment is often how the jury goes at trial.”
“I wonder who’s responsible for Bera?” Abe asked.
“My guess is, Davina. She’s been expecting something to happen for some time, I wish I knew why.”
“She’s not the brains, though, is she?”
“No. She’s too enamored of the life she’s living, and she wants it to continue. That predisposes people away from murder unless murder is the only way to achieve it. Which makes her only target Emily. I have a creepy feeling that the Savovich sisters have cooked this whole thing up to have Uda tried for the murder Davina committed. Because if one sister is exonerated, no D.A. in his right mind would try the other. So set the sad little one up as the culprit,” Carmine said.
“I wish I didn’t believe you, but I do. However, it’s out of our hands. As detectives, we’ve found a suspect with motive in possession of the poison. Horrie wants to try her.”
“Wrong sister.”
“Wrong sister.”
“I hear the Hunters have moved to East Holloman,” Abe said.
“Yeah, yesterday. Patsy says Millie is like a kid with a new toy. The families all contributed some furniture, which she is shoving around when she’s not painting the woodwork. Her lab is shut until she’s satisfied the new house is fit for Jim.”
“Who wouldn’t notice if he ate off an orange crate.”
“Yeah, well …”
“You have to talk to Millie again, Carmine.”
“That’s why I’m picking her up and taking her to lunch.”
His choice was the Lobster Pot, on the shore of Busquash Inlet in close proximity to Carew. Knowing that Jim had their car, he called by the new house shortly before noon to pick Millie up. She came bouncing down the short path from the front porch looking wonderful, Carmine thought, on the sidewalk and holding the passenger’s door open. If she was as thin as ever, she had somehow managed to look a trifle fatter: the new dress, he divined. Flattering, miniskirted to display her shapely legs, a blend of soft sage green and a dark lavender blue, it did wonders for her skin and streaky blonde hair, long enough to reach the bottom of her shoulder blades. Thirty-three? She looked twenty-three.
She was still chattering about the house when they slid into a booth overlooking the water.
“A king-sized bed!” she was marveling. “I can’t thank Jake Balducci enough for donating it. Jim and I had never even slept in a queen-sized bed before. Jim says it’s like being a horse in a huge, grassy field.”
“So he approves of the fleshpots, Millie?”
Patrick’s blue eyes widened in Millie’s inimitable way. “I think everyone gets Jim wrong,” she said. “He’s not by nature one of those awful people who wear shirts made of scratchy hair and lash their own backs. That would indicate masochism, and he is not a masochist! It’s just that he’s indifferent to external things because he never notices them — his mind’s too busy elsewhere. But when I put a silk shirt on his back this morning, he was thrilled. He’d never worn anything silk before, and had no idea how good silk would feel. That’s Jim. From now on, he will probably demand to wear nothing but silk shirts.” A smile grew. “A tiny scrap of vanity appeared, would you believe it? When he looked in the mirror, he was intrigued at the way the fabric showed off his physique.”
“It’s a magnificent physique,” Carmine said.
“Yes, but normally he’s inside his body as if it were a mere peanut shell. This morning he liked what he saw.”
“What else does he like?”
“The size of his study. He’s actually taking time off to make bookshelves for its walls — imagine Jim taking time off! I’ve always known he lusted for a study completely lined in books and journals, but I didn’t expect the carpentry.”