wonderful job getting them together.”
“Well, he certainly spent enough time and money on his hobby. I admit I wasn’t too happy about it at the time, but thinking back I realize a lot of husbands do a lot worse things to entertain themselves.”
It was a long, awkward moment until I could come up with another question. “What did he do for work?”
“He didn’t.” She smiled sadly. “Oh, he tried his hand at business a few times—a sporting goods store, a couple of hotels in Covington, even a dance studio once—but it never worked out. I finally told him to stop trying.”
I looked around at the expensive furnishings. “Then how—?” I caught myself; it was none of my concern how they could afford to live here.
She answered anyway. “I have enough resources to live quite comfortably, Mr. Rawlings, and I was happy to support my husband as well. You see, my family used to make Catawba wine. Our vineyards were on Mount Adams. By the time the black rot wiped them out, we’d invested in other ventures. So my Ollie didn’t have to work.” She sighed. “The poor man simply had no head for business. It was such a relief to both of us when Mr. Tinsley became his partner in the museum. Ollie needed someone with business sense to take charge of matters.”
I caught the eye of one of the women who’d been with Katie Perriman. With raised eyebrows, I silently pleaded with her to come and relieve me, but she turned away. I was stuck. “There were other people interested in the collection,” I said. “Your husband told me he had offers to buy it.”
“Yes, well, from what I know, those offers were all from the same man.”
“Lloyd Tinsley?”
“Oh no, the calls continued after Mr. Tinsley bought a half interest in Ollie’s exhibit.”
I heard somebody step near us and thought I was about to be relieved. It was Curt Stram, a smirk on his baby face and mischief in his eyes. His suit was too flashy for this occasion and, as usual, his appearance was careless. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Everything will be fine, Katie, I’m sure.”
She flinched at his touch and shot him a look of admonishment. His gesture was far too familiar and totally inappropriate. He let his hand linger a few moments before withdrawing it.
I was briefly tempted to use Stram’s arrival as an excuse for me to leave. But Katie Perriman didn’t look like she wanted him there. Her chin began to tremble. Stram then sidled away.
She turned back to me. Now her eyes were wet.
Not knowing what to say, I proceeded as if Stram had never come by. “Will you keep the collection?” I asked.
After dabbing her eyes she quickly composed herself. “I don’t believe I have anything to say in the matter. My understanding of their arrangement is that Ollie’s share in the business goes to his partner—Mr. Tinsley.”
“Oh, I see.”
Another of the women came a little too close to us. Instead of relying on silent gestures, I said “Hello,” forcing her to come over for introductions. She took a seat next to the widow, and I started to make my escape.
Mrs. Perriman thanked me for coming, then added, “I thought the most senseless thing in the world was for Ollie to spend all that time and money on a collection of old baseball mementos. Now I think the only thing more senseless was for someone to kill him over it. Who would do such a thing?” Her eyes pleaded with me for an answer.
I couldn’t think of any. “I don’t know, ma’am. Again, I’m very sorry for what happened.”
Fortified with a fresh glass of wine, I went to join Margie and found her speaking to Dolf Luque in Spanish. Another talent that I wasn’t aware she had.
I then drifted over to where Heinie Groh and Greasy Neale were talking together. They were quite a contrast in physiques. Groh, who was about my height, was sometimes called “tiny Heinie” in the press; his hands were so small that he used a “bottle bat” with a thick barrel and an
“Well, he certainly spent enough time and money on his hobby. I admit I wasn’t too happy about it at the time, but thinking back I realize a lot of husbands do a lot worse things to entertain themselves.”
It was a long, awkward moment until I could come up with another question. “What did he do for work?”
“He didn’t.” She smiled sadly. “Oh, he tried his hand at business a few times—a sporting goods store, a couple of hotels in Covington, even a dance studio once—but it never worked out. I finally told him to stop trying.”
I looked around at the expensive furnishings. “Then how—?” I caught myself; it was none of my concern how they could afford to live here.
She answered anyway. “I have enough resources to live quite comfortably, Mr. Rawlings, and I was happy to support my husband as well. You see, my family used to make Catawba wine. Our vineyards were on Mount Adams. By the time the black rot wiped them out, we’d invested in other ventures. So my Ollie didn’t have to work.” She sighed. “The poor man simply had no head for business. It was such a relief to both of us when Mr. Tinsley became his partner in the museum. Ollie needed someone with business sense to take charge of matters.”
I caught the eye of one of the women who’d been with Katie Perriman. With raised eyebrows, I silently pleaded with her to come and relieve me, but she turned away. I was stuck. “There were other people interested in the collection,” I said. “Your husband told me he had offers to buy it.”
“Yes, well, from what I know, those offers were all from the same man.”
“Lloyd Tinsley?”
“Oh no, the calls continued after Mr. Tinsley bought a half interest in Ollie’s exhibit.”
I heard somebody step near us and thought I was about to be relieved. It was Curt Stram, a smirk on his baby face and mischief in his eyes. His suit was too flashy for this occasion and, as usual, his appearance was careless. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Everything will be fine, Katie, I’m sure.”
She flinched at his touch and shot him a look of admonishment. His gesture was far too familiar and totally inappropriate. He let his hand linger a few moments before withdrawing it.
I was briefly tempted to use Stram’s arrival as an excuse for me to leave. But Katie Perriman didn’t look like she wanted him there. Her chin began to tremble. Stram then sidled away.
She turned back to me. Now her eyes were wet.
Not knowing what to say, I proceeded as if Stram had never come by. “Will you keep the collection?” I asked.
After dabbing her eyes she quickly composed herself. “I don’t believe I have anything to say in the matter. My understanding of their arrangement is that Ollie’s share in the business goes to his partner—Mr. Tinsley.”
“Oh, I see.”
Another of the women came a little too close to us. Instead of relying on silent gestures, I said “Hello,” forcing her to come over for introductions. She took a seat next to the widow, and I started to make my escape.
Mrs. Perriman thanked me for coming, then added, “I thought the most senseless thing in the world was for Ollie to spend all that time and money on a collection of old baseball mementos. Now I think the only thing more senseless was for someone to kill him over it. Who would do such a thing?” Her eyes pleaded with me for an answer.
I couldn’t think of any. “I don’t know, ma’am. Again, I’m very sorry for what happened.”
Fortified with a fresh glass of wine, I went to join Margie and found her speaking to Dolf Luque in Spanish. Another talent that I wasn’t aware she had.
I then drifted over to where Heinie Groh and Greasy Neale were talking together. They were quite a contrast in physiques. Groh, who was about my height, was sometimes called “tiny Heinie” in the press; his hands were so small that he used a “bottle bat” with a thick barrel and an
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