reveals a handgun strapped to his rib cage.
In any case, Hogan never lacked for confidence. Once, and once only, I asked him about his technique. All he could say was: “Hey, I know how to listen. It counts for a lot.” No doubt. But once he gets his answers, I’ve noticed, his attention quickly shifts elsewhere.
Right now, though, the full force of Hogan’s mind was focused unwaveringly on Claudia. He was sorry to have to ask, but he needed to know where she was last Wednesday, the day of the murder.
“I was here. Working in the studio.”
“Alone?”
“Completely. That is the only way to work.”
As Hogan shifted minutely toward her, his voice lowered and slowed. “A woman with your looks,” he said, “is alone only by choice.”
“Thank you, yes. But I choose solitude often.”
“A pity.”
“No. I have, of course, many admirers—always. But not so many are kind gentlemen like you. Or like Philip.”
“So tell me why you want this lonely life.”
“It is not so lonely, since Philip. For the work, yes, it’s necessary to be alone. This is what I do, who I am.”
Hogan dipped his head an inch or two. “At least you know what you need,” he said. “And how to get it.”
With that, they seemed suddenly to remember themselves—and me. Hogan nodded and Claudia led him back through the archway. By the time they returned to the kitchen, I half expected the two of them to be bathed in love sweat. Hogan slid Claudia’s chair from the table and stood waiting. As soon as she settled into her seat, he took his place across from her. She refilled his glass. They looked at each other and drank without speaking.
In the midst of this flirty rigmarole, they both turned to me. I had to say something.
“You must have some idea,” I said to Claudia. “Some idea who would want Mandy dead.”
“Oh, yes, I have thought. Philip’s ex-wife, for one—the mother. She hated Amanda always. Or those awful men around him—the company liars—they could perhaps wish it, so they get more control.”
“Why his first wife?”
“Because, with Amanda dead, half of everything Philip owns goes back to his child. To a thrust, for when the girl turns twenty-one.”
“The word is ‘trust.’ ”
“Is it? Good, I learn: a trust.”
“And if Philip died, too?” I asked.
“Then everything. It is one of the many things we discussed. One of the plans he had to make before he could divorce again.”
“You talked about his death? Philip looks awfully healthy to me.”
“You are not a doctor. The special ones, at the big ugly hospital, they say his head will kill his body very soon.”
“Would anything change if the two of you got married?”
“Then the young girl, Melissa, would get only a half.”
“That’s still a fortune.”
“Still, yes. Philip felt much badness about how he once treated Angela and the baby—when he left to go to Amanda years ago.”
“And what about other girlfriends?” Hogan asked. “Any around who might resent Philip’s new plans with you?”
“You don’t know Philip. He is not the kind of man to cheat on his lover.”
“Just his wife.”
“This is normal.”
I ate an olive and placed the pit in a little saucer by the empty wine bottle. “Claudia, my dear, you should write a lonely hearts column,” I said.
She tilted the second bottle in the direction of my glass. I covered the top with my hand.
“
Prego
,” she said. “Take, enjoy.”
I gave in and accepted another half-glass. As Claudia poured, I worked hard to keep my concentration. Her abundant, self-proclaiming body demanded full notice, and usually got it. Everything about her was bountiful, generous, flowing. No matter what she did, no matter how she moved, you were aware first of her breasts, her white skin, her thighs. You could easily see how a man of Philip’s age, or any age, would be intensely drawn to her scented flesh and tender care, to long slow hours in these casually welcoming rooms.
In any case, Hogan never lacked for confidence. Once, and once only, I asked him about his technique. All he could say was: “Hey, I know how to listen. It counts for a lot.” No doubt. But once he gets his answers, I’ve noticed, his attention quickly shifts elsewhere.
Right now, though, the full force of Hogan’s mind was focused unwaveringly on Claudia. He was sorry to have to ask, but he needed to know where she was last Wednesday, the day of the murder.
“I was here. Working in the studio.”
“Alone?”
“Completely. That is the only way to work.”
As Hogan shifted minutely toward her, his voice lowered and slowed. “A woman with your looks,” he said, “is alone only by choice.”
“Thank you, yes. But I choose solitude often.”
“A pity.”
“No. I have, of course, many admirers—always. But not so many are kind gentlemen like you. Or like Philip.”
“So tell me why you want this lonely life.”
“It is not so lonely, since Philip. For the work, yes, it’s necessary to be alone. This is what I do, who I am.”
Hogan dipped his head an inch or two. “At least you know what you need,” he said. “And how to get it.”
With that, they seemed suddenly to remember themselves—and me. Hogan nodded and Claudia led him back through the archway. By the time they returned to the kitchen, I half expected the two of them to be bathed in love sweat. Hogan slid Claudia’s chair from the table and stood waiting. As soon as she settled into her seat, he took his place across from her. She refilled his glass. They looked at each other and drank without speaking.
In the midst of this flirty rigmarole, they both turned to me. I had to say something.
“You must have some idea,” I said to Claudia. “Some idea who would want Mandy dead.”
“Oh, yes, I have thought. Philip’s ex-wife, for one—the mother. She hated Amanda always. Or those awful men around him—the company liars—they could perhaps wish it, so they get more control.”
“Why his first wife?”
“Because, with Amanda dead, half of everything Philip owns goes back to his child. To a thrust, for when the girl turns twenty-one.”
“The word is ‘trust.’ ”
“Is it? Good, I learn: a trust.”
“And if Philip died, too?” I asked.
“Then everything. It is one of the many things we discussed. One of the plans he had to make before he could divorce again.”
“You talked about his death? Philip looks awfully healthy to me.”
“You are not a doctor. The special ones, at the big ugly hospital, they say his head will kill his body very soon.”
“Would anything change if the two of you got married?”
“Then the young girl, Melissa, would get only a half.”
“That’s still a fortune.”
“Still, yes. Philip felt much badness about how he once treated Angela and the baby—when he left to go to Amanda years ago.”
“And what about other girlfriends?” Hogan asked. “Any around who might resent Philip’s new plans with you?”
“You don’t know Philip. He is not the kind of man to cheat on his lover.”
“Just his wife.”
“This is normal.”
I ate an olive and placed the pit in a little saucer by the empty wine bottle. “Claudia, my dear, you should write a lonely hearts column,” I said.
She tilted the second bottle in the direction of my glass. I covered the top with my hand.
“
Prego
,” she said. “Take, enjoy.”
I gave in and accepted another half-glass. As Claudia poured, I worked hard to keep my concentration. Her abundant, self-proclaiming body demanded full notice, and usually got it. Everything about her was bountiful, generous, flowing. No matter what she did, no matter how she moved, you were aware first of her breasts, her white skin, her thighs. You could easily see how a man of Philip’s age, or any age, would be intensely drawn to her scented flesh and tender care, to long slow hours in these casually welcoming rooms.
Similar Books
