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awkward quiet settled over the room. Knowing he’d been rude, knowing he’d been uncooperative, George was still more perturbed than sorry. With each passing minute, he grew more agitated. Why was Mary Helen putting him through this torture? Why did she always think she knew what was best?
    â€œI need a drink.” At the bar, he poured a vodka, splashed in a smidge of tonic, and added a lime for good measure.
    â€œFeeling better now, darling?”
    George tensed at her sarcastic tone. “Yes, yes I am,” he said, and lifted his glass to them both. He guzzled the drink and reached for the bottle. “In fact, I think I’ll have another.”
    Mary Helen’s eyes, hard as blue marbles, followed him to the sofa. “If you’re quite through?”
    George took another sip. He did feel better. “What do you want to know?”
    Clearing his throat, Larry rattled off one question after another. He wrote down each answer, gradually taking George through the events of the previous evening. “Where did you go when you left the club?”
    â€œHome. To my apartment.”
    â€œYou’re sure? You didn’t stop anywhere? Get gas? Buy cigarettes? Anything like that?”
    Frowning, George didn’t answer. He thought maybe he had stopped for cigarettes, but he couldn’t remember.
    â€œWell?” Mary Helen pursed her lips.
    â€œI don’t remember.” He wanted a cigarette at that moment, but his wife didn’t allow them in the house. “I might have stopped, but it could have been the night before. I might be mixed up.”
    Larry put down his pen, eyes questioning. “You don’t know whether you stopped anywhere?”
    â€œNo,” he said. “I had a lot to drink at the club.”
    His wife snorted. “Imagine that.”
    Ignoring Mrs. Vandenberg’s sarcasm, the attorney focused on George. “Fine. You think you went straight home. We’ll go with that for now. Did you go straight to bed? Watch TV?”
    George remembered the clothes strewn across the bedroom and bathroom. “I think I went straight to bed.”
    â€œHe probably passed out,” Mary Helen said. “I tried calling him about eleven or so and no one answered. I wanted to remind him about his conference call with Daddy, although I don’t know why I bothered.” George cradled the empty glass and belched. She shot him a look. “Perfect.”
    Larry pressed his lips together. “Well, it’s good that a lot of ­people saw you at the club.” He picked up his notepad, stood, and addressed Mary Helen. “I’m sorry I have to go. Lucy and I are going to the ballet tonight, and she’ll kill me if I’m late.”
    â€œThank you for coming on such short notice, Larry.” Mary Helen followed him to the door, her smile strained. “You’ll let me know if you find out anything?”
    â€œOf course.” The lawyer shook their hands.
    â€œFind out what?” George asked after the attorney was gone.
    â€œWhat do you think? For God’s sake, George, sometimes you are so dense. Dr. Michael’s murder! I’d like to know what happened to Dr. Michael. Wouldn’t you?” Averting his eyes, he made no comment. Trailing him back to the bar, Mary Helen kept at him. “The police will probably find out who all his patients were and start asking questions, and who knows what they’ll dig up. What if they find out about you, George?” Unresponsive, he flopped on the sofa, a fresh drink balanced on his chest. “You don’t even care, do you? Even if you didn’t have anything to do with whatever happened to that doctor of yours, what about us? What if they find out about you and what you did before?”
    â€œI didn’t kill Dr. Michael.”
    â€œHow would you know?” She threw her hands up in the air. “You can’t even remember if you stopped for cigarettes.