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“Her husband was cheating on her?”
“That’s the complicated part. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about the kiss. You’re thinking she was the one stepping out. I’m not going to defend it, McKenzie, but a kiss doesn’t mean she was cheating. Some guy flirted with her and she let him. That doesn’t mean she stepped over the line. So many men pursued me after I was married, my husband’s business associates, employees, competitors. I never could figure that out. It was like they had to possess something that my husband had. But I never crossed the line until the one time I did cross the line, and then I made sure he wasn’t connected to my husband in any way. At least I managed that small bit of propriety. I felt sorry for Von. That’s what it came down to. She was in a May-December relationship like I was. Her husband moved her to the Cities from Phoenix, so her only friends were his friends, which is pretty much what happened with me. I saw her heading down the same path I had taken, so when she asked if I knew someone who could help, I gave her the name of the only man I trusted completely.”
That explains a lot, my inner voice said.
“Did Von tell you what she wanted done?” I asked.
“Not exactly. My impression was that she wanted someone who could get the facts about her husband quietly. At the same time she said the man needed to be capable in case something went wrong. Her husband was a dangerous man, after all. He carried a gun. He knew security. He understood how the police worked. So I told her about you. Told her what you had done for me. Did I screw up, McKenzie? Is that why you’re hurt?”
“Indirectly.”
“I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Tell me, have you spoken to Von lately?”
“No. I—I guess you could say I’ve been avoiding her.”
“Why?”
“Because—because of what happened. I read what happened to Patrick.”
“You thought I killed him, didn’t you? You thought Von hired me to kill her husband.”
Jenny nodded.
“Why did you think that? You’ve known me for so long.”
“Von is a very beautiful woman.”
“So are you, Jen. I didn’t kill for you. In fact, do you remember the first thing I told you when you called about the jewel thief?”
“You said you wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“Didn’t you believe me?”
“I thought maybe Patrick had forced you into it. Oh, I don’t know, McKenzie. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I didn’t shoot him, sweetie.”
“I know that now. I’m sorry I even thought it. Forgive me, McKenzie.”
I waved my hand as if I were shooing away a fly. “You’re forgiven,” I said, “but I don’t want you to tell Von or anyone else that we had this conversation, okay?”
“Okay.”
“One more thing. The guy Von was kissing in the museum. Do you know him? Did he work for the museum?”
“No. I mean, he didn’t actually work for the museum. He was a trustee. A member of the executive board of trustees.”
“Who?”
“Derek Anderson.”
The Seven and Sevens seemed to be doing a lot more to mask the pain in my shoulder than the over-the-counter drugs I was taking, so I had another. Probably it was a mistake. Afterward, I kissed Jenny good-bye, told her not to be such a stranger, and limped out of the club to where Herzog had parked the Jeep Cherokee. The journey gave me a frightful headache, and when I reached the door of the SUV I had to pause and wait for the fog that invaded my head to clear and the nausea in my stomach to settle. After getting inside and snapping my seat belt into place I said, “Sorry to keep you waiting so long.”
“You look tired,” Herzog said.
I offered him a smile that felt strange on my mouth.
“Is that a polite way of saying I look like shit?” I asked.
“I didn’ want t’ insult you until you paid me the rest of my money.”
“Fair enough.”
“Where to next?”
“Burnsville.”
“Fuckin’ A.”
“You have something against Burnsville?”
“You mean besides it bein’ on t’other side of the planet?”
”I’m not in charge of geography.”
“What’s in Burnsville?”
“A girl. You’ll like her. She’s a babe.”
I had called Mr. Donatucci while I was having my fourth drink in the past ninety minutes, and he gave me Von Tarpley’s address. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I had no idea. He didn’t seem surprised.
“She tall?” Herzog asked. “I like ’em tall.”
“Define tall.”
“Big as me.”
“Nobody’s big as you, Herzy.”
Herzog put the SUV in gear and drove out of the parking lot.
“What’s ’er name?” he asked.
“Von.”
“Von? What kinda name is ’at for a woman?”
“Short for Yvonne, Evonne, something like that. I don’t know, man. I didn’t name her.”
“That’s the complicated part. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about the kiss. You’re thinking she was the one stepping out. I’m not going to defend it, McKenzie, but a kiss doesn’t mean she was cheating. Some guy flirted with her and she let him. That doesn’t mean she stepped over the line. So many men pursued me after I was married, my husband’s business associates, employees, competitors. I never could figure that out. It was like they had to possess something that my husband had. But I never crossed the line until the one time I did cross the line, and then I made sure he wasn’t connected to my husband in any way. At least I managed that small bit of propriety. I felt sorry for Von. That’s what it came down to. She was in a May-December relationship like I was. Her husband moved her to the Cities from Phoenix, so her only friends were his friends, which is pretty much what happened with me. I saw her heading down the same path I had taken, so when she asked if I knew someone who could help, I gave her the name of the only man I trusted completely.”
That explains a lot, my inner voice said.
“Did Von tell you what she wanted done?” I asked.
“Not exactly. My impression was that she wanted someone who could get the facts about her husband quietly. At the same time she said the man needed to be capable in case something went wrong. Her husband was a dangerous man, after all. He carried a gun. He knew security. He understood how the police worked. So I told her about you. Told her what you had done for me. Did I screw up, McKenzie? Is that why you’re hurt?”
“Indirectly.”
“I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Tell me, have you spoken to Von lately?”
“No. I—I guess you could say I’ve been avoiding her.”
“Why?”
“Because—because of what happened. I read what happened to Patrick.”
“You thought I killed him, didn’t you? You thought Von hired me to kill her husband.”
Jenny nodded.
“Why did you think that? You’ve known me for so long.”
“Von is a very beautiful woman.”
“So are you, Jen. I didn’t kill for you. In fact, do you remember the first thing I told you when you called about the jewel thief?”
“You said you wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“Didn’t you believe me?”
“I thought maybe Patrick had forced you into it. Oh, I don’t know, McKenzie. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I didn’t shoot him, sweetie.”
“I know that now. I’m sorry I even thought it. Forgive me, McKenzie.”
I waved my hand as if I were shooing away a fly. “You’re forgiven,” I said, “but I don’t want you to tell Von or anyone else that we had this conversation, okay?”
“Okay.”
“One more thing. The guy Von was kissing in the museum. Do you know him? Did he work for the museum?”
“No. I mean, he didn’t actually work for the museum. He was a trustee. A member of the executive board of trustees.”
“Who?”
“Derek Anderson.”
The Seven and Sevens seemed to be doing a lot more to mask the pain in my shoulder than the over-the-counter drugs I was taking, so I had another. Probably it was a mistake. Afterward, I kissed Jenny good-bye, told her not to be such a stranger, and limped out of the club to where Herzog had parked the Jeep Cherokee. The journey gave me a frightful headache, and when I reached the door of the SUV I had to pause and wait for the fog that invaded my head to clear and the nausea in my stomach to settle. After getting inside and snapping my seat belt into place I said, “Sorry to keep you waiting so long.”
“You look tired,” Herzog said.
I offered him a smile that felt strange on my mouth.
“Is that a polite way of saying I look like shit?” I asked.
“I didn’ want t’ insult you until you paid me the rest of my money.”
“Fair enough.”
“Where to next?”
“Burnsville.”
“Fuckin’ A.”
“You have something against Burnsville?”
“You mean besides it bein’ on t’other side of the planet?”
”I’m not in charge of geography.”
“What’s in Burnsville?”
“A girl. You’ll like her. She’s a babe.”
I had called Mr. Donatucci while I was having my fourth drink in the past ninety minutes, and he gave me Von Tarpley’s address. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I had no idea. He didn’t seem surprised.
“She tall?” Herzog asked. “I like ’em tall.”
“Define tall.”
“Big as me.”
“Nobody’s big as you, Herzy.”
Herzog put the SUV in gear and drove out of the parking lot.
“What’s ’er name?” he asked.
“Von.”
“Von? What kinda name is ’at for a woman?”
“Short for Yvonne, Evonne, something like that. I don’t know, man. I didn’t name her.”
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