Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“George’s alibi is his wife,” I said, pacing the length of Tammy’s back room while the coven watched me like a tennis match. “That’s it. George says he was home with Claudia, Claudia says she was home with George.”
Lori sipped her tea. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“I’ve been thinking about nothing else.” I stopped pacing and dropped into a chair.
“George is nervous. You should’ve seen him at the house — fidgeting, flinching every time someone looked at him.
Couldn’t sit still for five minutes. He barely said a word the whole time I was there, and when he did talk, he kept looking at Sal first, like he needed permission. ”
“Classic guilty conscience,” Tammy said. It wasn’t a question.
“And then there’s the den. Carmen says he’s locked himself in there for months. The deadbolt is new — he installed it after the funeral. Who puts a deadbolt on an interior door unless they’re hiding something?”
Jill, who’d been quiet, set her water glass down carefully.
“So what’s the plan? You can’t exactly interrogate him.
You’re not even — I mean, no offense, but you’re the ex-sister-in-law.
You don’t have standing to — “ She caught herself mid-corporate-jargon and winced.
“Sorry. Old habits. What I mean is, George barely talks to family. Why would he talk to you?”
“He won’t. And it’s not like I get invited to family gatherings, but know where I can get a chance to talk to Claudia.
” I drummed my fingers on the table. “She’s chairing a Humane Society benefit tomorrow night.
Silent auction, the whole thing. George has to show up — it’s Claudia’s event, he can’t skip it without making a scene.
If I can get in, I can watch him in public.
See how he handles himself when he can’t hide behind a locked door. ”
I looked at Tammy. “Can you get me on the guest list?”
Tammy was already pulling out her phone. “Helen Briggs is on the Humane Society board. She owes me a favor from the lobster festival. I’ll have your name on the list before dessert.”
“Just like that?”
“I know everyone in a fifty-mile radius and half of them eat at my restaurant. Just blend in, drink the cheap wine, and you’ll get your chance to talk to Claudia.”
From the bar mirror, Rosaria materialized. She’d been silent for the past hour, which meant she’d been saving up.
“I am coming,” she announced.
“You can’t — “
“George has been acting like a man with a guilty secret since the day I died. I want to see his face when he thinks no one is watching.” Rosaria’s eyes were hard.
“My younger son was always a terrible liar. Even as a boy — he would break a vase and stand next to the pieces with his hands behind his back, looking at the ceiling. Subtlety was never his gift.”
I rubbed my temples. “You realize I’ll be the only one who can hear you. In a room full of strangers.”
“Then I suggest you practice your poker face.”
Lori and Tammy exchanged a look. They couldn’t see Rosaria, but they’d learned to recognize the pauses in my conversation where she was filling the gaps.
“She’s insisting on coming, isn’t she,” Lori said.
“She’s already picked out her outfit. Metaphorically. She’s dead.”
“I heard that,” Rosaria said. “And this blouse is not metaphorical. It is St. John. I was buried in it.”