Page 13 of The Happy Month

I held up my hand to stop her, then said, “Patrick, can you tell me about killing Vera?”

Sheila gasped. She must have been worried he’d launch into some macabre, detailed account of killing the poor girl. It was such an obvious question I wondered why no one had asked it.

“I killed her.”

“Can you tell me more than that?”

“We went to Malibu.”

“It happened in Malibu?”

“Ocean. Beach. Bathing suits.”

“You went to Malibu with Vera?”

“No.”

I glanced at Sheila. She shrugged. I decided to change directions.

“How did you meet Vera?”

He struggled. He seemed to be digging around in his mind for an answer. Finally, he said, “Dancing.”

“Do you remember when that was?”

“Hot.”

“Summer. What year was it?”

That was met with silence.

“Do you remember what car you were driving?”

“Cadillac convertible. Ivan’s.”

“Who’s Ivan?”

“Ivan.”

I looked again at Sheila. She was frowning. “Ivan was a friend of his from when he was younger. He mentions him from time to time.”

“Ivan was there the night you met Vera?”

“Doris Day.”

Sheila shrugged. “It’s always like this.”

Patrick said, “‘Buttons and Bows’.”

“Ah. That’s what you were dancing to?”

He closed his eyes and looked like he was remembering something important.

“What are you thinking about, Patrick?”

His eyes sprung open. He seemed angry I’d interrupted him. “Who are you?” he asked. This time it was directed to me.

“You can call me Dom. I’m trying to find out what happened to Vera Korenko.”