Part 5 (1/2)

”I love that sound myself,” Margo sympathized. ”Speakin' of which, excuse me for a sec, Sugar. John is comin' in this very minute.”

She disappeared, and I listened enviously to smoochy noises and giggles as she greeted her husband. To my surprise, it was John who picked up the phone.

”Kate? John here. I've got some new information on the Santa situation.”

”About James? Have you located him?”

”No, sorry. It's about the brother.”

”Has the body been identified officially as Joseph O'Halloran?”

”Technically speaking, his sister-in-law's identification is sufficient, but since he died under suspicious circ.u.mstances, and his next of kin, brother James, is the subject of a missing persons investigation, we're treating this one as a probable homicide. The L. A. P. D. ran a check and came up with quite a few priors on Joseph, fraud, embezzlement and so on. All dismissed ultimately, no convictions, but that's not the real news.”

I wasn't at all sure I wanted to know the real news, but John so obviously wanted to tell me, it seemed impolite not to give him the opportunity.

”What is it, John?”

”Joseph died of asphyxiation, drowning, to be exact. We figured that, even though there was a large contusion on his right temple that looked as if it could have killed him. We thought he was probably knocked unconscious and then dumped in the river, where he drowned.”

”Okay. So?”

”The thing is, his lungs weren't filled with river water. They were filled with champagne punch.”

Seven.

The last time I had visited the O'Hallorans' house, I had seen only the outside of the snug Cape. This time, I was ushered inside by Mary's neighbor. Presumably, she was the same one who had volunteered to keep an eye on Mary a few days ago, but I couldn't be sure. Neighborhoods, particularly those whose residents are long established, have intricate support systems that have evolved over the years.

”I'll be right next door if you need me,” the woman called to Mary over her shoulder. ”She's in the kitchen,” she said to me. ”I think she's stronger today.” With that, she let herself out and vanished across the front lawn.

I followed the aroma of fresh coffee past the center staircase to the back of the house. As many buyers of these 1950s-era homes do, James and Mary had removed the walls between the front and back rooms to open up the downstairs. The result was a surprisingly s.p.a.cious living room on the left and a cheerful, well-lit kitchen/dining room on the right.

I had rather expected to find Mary slouched in a chair, still in her bathrobe, but I was rea.s.sured to find her arranging coffee things on a tray in her tidy kitchen. She was dressed in tailored slacks and a soft sweater. Her make-up had been carefully applied, and her hair was in place, although the gray I had noticed last week seemed somehow more p.r.o.nounced.

”Thanks for coming, Kate.” Her smile was as warm as ever. ”Shall we have our coffee in the living room? The morning sun is so cheerful in there.”

I picked up the filled carafe and followed her down a short hallway to the rear of the living room. A wide window overlooking the back yard allowed the sun to warm our backs nicely as we sat on the sofa in front of it.

”You look well, Mary. How are you doing?” I took a sip of excellent coffee.

”Better,” she answered st.u.r.dily. ”I went to the Cove on Sunday prepared to identify my dead husband. Anything short of having to do that is solvable. That's why I wanted to see you in person, Kate. Thank you, by the way. I know you were expected at the UCC this morning. The post-fundraiser week is always a hectic one, and without James, well, I'm sure everyone is doing the best they can.”

”My being here isn't a problem,” I a.s.sured Mary. ”Sister Marguerite and Lois and s.h.i.+rley and James' a.s.sistant are all half out of their minds with concern for James and for you, as well. Solving this mystery and reuniting you is everyone's most fervent wish, so if there's any way at all that I can help, believe me when I say I'm more than happy to do it.”

I took another sip of coffee, hoping I had opened the door sufficiently for Mary to tell me why she had asked me to come by this morning. Her early phone call had taken me by surprise. She put down her mug and composed her hands in her lap.

”I'm afraid I haven't been entirely forthcoming. There was another phone call last Thursday morning besides the one from Joseph.” She regarded me levelly. ”I didn't mention it sooner, because it's a private matter, and quite frankly, I was embarra.s.sed. At the time, I couldn't imagine that it had anything to do with all of this. Now, I'm fairly certain it does.”

I remembered what s.h.i.+rley had told me about James' message from an unfamiliar female caller. ”Was it from a woman?” I asked Mary now.

Her fingers twisted together in agitation, but she met my gaze. ”Yes. It was from Roberta.”

I searched my memory but came up empty. ”I'm sorry. Who is Roberta?”

”I don't know her last name. I never have. The only thing I do know is that she and James were involved briefly some years ago. They had an affair,” she concluded to clarify the nature of their involvement, which I had already guessed. It's always the quiet ones who fool you.

”You know this because ...?”

”James told me.” Mary smiled bleakly. ”It's the downside of having an honest, committed relations.h.i.+p. You're spared nothing, even the knowledge of things you'd be much happier not knowing.”

She picked up the carafe and held it up questioningly. I shook my head, and she refilled her mug. I kept silent and waited.

”It was at a convention in California,” she continued. ”All of the top financial executives from charitable organizations all over the country meet once a year to be updated on new legislation, tax regulations, that sort of thing. The bean counters' convention, James calls it. It's a huge snore. I never went. None of the wives did.” She made a face. ”I probably should have, as it turns out.”

”Convention fever, we called it when I worked with the management company of an international trade show. Relations.h.i.+ps are sp.a.w.ned out of sheer boredom.” I smiled to a.s.sure Mary that I didn't find her news shocking. It had been my experience that, given the chance, boys would be boys. So would most men.

”Yes,” Mary agreed, ”but there was a little more to it. James and I had had quite a serious quarrel just before he left for that particular convention. I can't even remember now what it was about.” She shrugged. ”Whatever it was, it was enough for James to justify to himself having his little fling with Roberta, at least for the few days they were in California. He told me that as soon as he got on the plane to come home, he was overcome with remorse. By the time he arrived here, he had worked himself into quite a state.” Her face clouded over at the memory.

”He told you right away, then?”

”Immediately. He didn't even say h.e.l.lo, just flung open the door and blurted it all out. He looked so awful, Kate, I thought someone had died, or he had an incurable disease or something. It was almost a relief to find out it was just a stupid affair. Almost,” she repeated with a trace of bitterness.

I held out my mug, ready for a refill. ”Then what happened?”

”He felt better, and I felt terrible. That's how these things usually go, isn't it? I hated him for about a week. Then I forgave him.”

I nodded my understanding. ”Was that the end of it?”

”I thought so at the time, but about a year later, there were some phone calls. James told me they were from Roberta. He said she was ill and had lost her job, needed some money. If I didn't object, he wanted to loan her a thousand dollars. I told him I didn't object, but I never quite believed that story.” She smiled to herself. ”James is basically a truthful person, so he lies very badly.” She was quiet for a moment, remembering.

”What do you think the true story was, or should I say, is?” I prompted her.

She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ”I believe there's a child, a boy. Again, there's nothing terribly unusual about that, except that James and I were never lucky enough to have children. So when Roberta produced a son and heir, that rather put her in the catbird seat.”

I didn't follow her reasoning and said so.

”Don't you see? In James' eyes, she went from being his former fling to being the mother of his only child, which is quite an elevation in status, wouldn't you agree?”

”How do you really know all this, Mary? Did James tell you ultimately?”

She shook her head. ”No. That would have been far too hurtful, to his way of thinking. The fact that Roberta had borne his child meant that it was my fault James and I had never conceived, you see. He knew that would cause me real suffering.”

I tried to take this in. ”Aren't you just a.s.suming all of this? I mean, if he never told you, what makes you believe there's a child?”