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Authors: Richard Hilary Weber
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and assorted business investments. Their lawyer, Golden Bobby, would know the exact dollar details of the victim’s estate.
Flo said, “What sort of relationship did you and your husband have?”
Christine Smith looked at the detective in amazement, as if she’d been expecting all along that a homicide detective lieutenant would drop by only to discuss harsh climate, winter getaways, a sun-kissed Caribbean.
“An excellent relationship,” the widow said. “We’ve been married since I graduated Juilliard and Owen graduated Pace business school. He was a highly educated man, he had an MBA and could’ve been a CPA. But he wanted to really be somebody special. Which he is…or was. We have three lovely, very bright children, and on their own the children helped us keep our marriage together. All three children go to Saint Ann’s Academy, one of the best schools in the country. Owen was as proud of them as I am.”
“And were you and Mr. Smith still happy together?”
“Over time, you get used to each other.” A sage judgment, and the deceased’s mother-in-law momentarily lost her look of disapproval and nodded appreciatively. “Over time,” the widow said, “you adapt and you learn to overlook each other’s faults. An eternally happy marriage? Really, Lieutenant, do you truly believe in such a thing? Ours was trouble-free, at least I can say that much. A lot better than some marriages. Just look at our new president and hers. And even they made something out of it. Well, so did we. Our marriage was trouble-free, up until this happened. Neither of us ever even considered divorce.”
“Were you well informed about your husband’s business affairs?”
Golden Bobby sat upright at this question.
“Barely,” the widow said calmly. “And I’ve no regrets about that either. I never interfered in my husband’s business affairs.”
“Did you share the same tastes in music?”
Christine Smith allowed herself a small smile. “Lieutenant, nobody ever got especially rich playing Bach. Not even Johann Sebastian. Owen worked very hard, he was up all hours with his business, year after year. He gave us a very good life. We’ve no complaints. Except one. He’s gone from us.”
“Did you get to meet many of your husband’s business associates?”
The widow looked over at Golden Bobby, who nodded, as if to say,
It’s okay, you can answer this one, too.
“I met more people than I can remember,” she said. “But I’m not much of a night owl. I didn’t go clubbing, and that was an important part of my husband’s business. Beside the record and clothing companies, he owned interests in some clubs, too. I have my own friends and I have our children. I’m active in the school parents’ association. And in our church, of course.”
“And what church is that?”
“Ethical Culture. It’s the closest church to here, almost right around the corner, across from the park side.”
In other words, Ballz Busta kept his wife and children and mother-in-law on another planet, several light-years removed from the moneymaking machines and the bimbos, the posses and guns, the leather-thonged man on the neon cross, and the bikini-clad babes down on all fours. And the Bible with a gun in it? Flo had to wonder what kind of weapons he kept in the same home where he housed his family.
Flo said, “I know how hard it is for you now, Mrs. Smith. But have you had a chance to think about any enemies he might have had, anyone who might’ve hated him so much that—”
“Someone crazy,” she said. For the first time, Christine Smith’s eyes flashed anger. “You got to be crazy to kill a man with Owen’s power. And I don’t know any madmen.”
“Did he receive any threats? Was he ever attacked?”
“Owen didn’t provoke people. Owen was a generous man. He complimented competitors, he didn’t have to put them down. He knew his own worth, he was a confident man. There was room for everybody with talent, he always
Flo said, “What sort of relationship did you and your husband have?”
Christine Smith looked at the detective in amazement, as if she’d been expecting all along that a homicide detective lieutenant would drop by only to discuss harsh climate, winter getaways, a sun-kissed Caribbean.
“An excellent relationship,” the widow said. “We’ve been married since I graduated Juilliard and Owen graduated Pace business school. He was a highly educated man, he had an MBA and could’ve been a CPA. But he wanted to really be somebody special. Which he is…or was. We have three lovely, very bright children, and on their own the children helped us keep our marriage together. All three children go to Saint Ann’s Academy, one of the best schools in the country. Owen was as proud of them as I am.”
“And were you and Mr. Smith still happy together?”
“Over time, you get used to each other.” A sage judgment, and the deceased’s mother-in-law momentarily lost her look of disapproval and nodded appreciatively. “Over time,” the widow said, “you adapt and you learn to overlook each other’s faults. An eternally happy marriage? Really, Lieutenant, do you truly believe in such a thing? Ours was trouble-free, at least I can say that much. A lot better than some marriages. Just look at our new president and hers. And even they made something out of it. Well, so did we. Our marriage was trouble-free, up until this happened. Neither of us ever even considered divorce.”
“Were you well informed about your husband’s business affairs?”
Golden Bobby sat upright at this question.
“Barely,” the widow said calmly. “And I’ve no regrets about that either. I never interfered in my husband’s business affairs.”
“Did you share the same tastes in music?”
Christine Smith allowed herself a small smile. “Lieutenant, nobody ever got especially rich playing Bach. Not even Johann Sebastian. Owen worked very hard, he was up all hours with his business, year after year. He gave us a very good life. We’ve no complaints. Except one. He’s gone from us.”
“Did you get to meet many of your husband’s business associates?”
The widow looked over at Golden Bobby, who nodded, as if to say,
It’s okay, you can answer this one, too.
“I met more people than I can remember,” she said. “But I’m not much of a night owl. I didn’t go clubbing, and that was an important part of my husband’s business. Beside the record and clothing companies, he owned interests in some clubs, too. I have my own friends and I have our children. I’m active in the school parents’ association. And in our church, of course.”
“And what church is that?”
“Ethical Culture. It’s the closest church to here, almost right around the corner, across from the park side.”
In other words, Ballz Busta kept his wife and children and mother-in-law on another planet, several light-years removed from the moneymaking machines and the bimbos, the posses and guns, the leather-thonged man on the neon cross, and the bikini-clad babes down on all fours. And the Bible with a gun in it? Flo had to wonder what kind of weapons he kept in the same home where he housed his family.
Flo said, “I know how hard it is for you now, Mrs. Smith. But have you had a chance to think about any enemies he might have had, anyone who might’ve hated him so much that—”
“Someone crazy,” she said. For the first time, Christine Smith’s eyes flashed anger. “You got to be crazy to kill a man with Owen’s power. And I don’t know any madmen.”
“Did he receive any threats? Was he ever attacked?”
“Owen didn’t provoke people. Owen was a generous man. He complimented competitors, he didn’t have to put them down. He knew his own worth, he was a confident man. There was room for everybody with talent, he always
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