Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [86]
“You may be wrong,” Judith contended, “even if you didn’t kill them yourself. You—and I—were in the store when Émile was murdered. You may have seen someone who was connected with his death.” She paused, trying to determine if her words were having any effect. But Anemone continued to hang her head, refusing to look Judith in the eye. “Okay.” Speaking sharply, Judith stood up. “As my Grandma Grover used to say, ‘If you’re not going to help, don’t hinder.’ You obviously went to Neiman Marcus to meet someone. Who was it? Émile Grenier? Or CeeCee Orr?”
Anemone’s head snapped up. Her blue eyes were filled with tears. “I told you, I hardly knew Mr. Grenier! And I certainly didn’t go there to meet a tart like CeeCee! Please, stop badgering me!” Seemingly on the verge of hysterics, Anemone suddenly seemed to get a hold on her emotions. “How did you know CeeCee was there?”
Judith decided to be cagey. “I know a lot of things. But I can’t help you unless you tell the truth and get me off the hook with your phony alibi.”
“It’s not phony,” Anemone asserted in a miserable voice. “Besides, I haven’t talked to the police. But I can’t tell you anything more. Please.”
Anemone wasn’t worried about being interrogated by Biff McDougal. Judith realized this as she contemplated the young woman’s obvious agony. That meant Anemone was afraid of someone other than the authorities.
That someone could only be her mother, Erma Giddon.
Dinner continued despite the disruptions. The salad course had followed, but by the time Judith left Anemone in her bedroom and arrived downstairs, only Erma, Horace, CeeCee, and Ambrose remained at the table. Presumably the others, including Renie, were in the living room with Connie Cruz.
Upon seeing Judith, Jim rushed up to her. “How’s Anemone? Is she okay? Should I take her pulse?”
“She’s upset, that’s all.” Judith glanced into the living room. A balding man with wire-rimmed spectacles was hovering over Connie, who was lying on the sofa. “Is that Dr. Selig?”
Jim nodded. “He’s pretty good. Heck, he sure knows a lot of stuff about medicine.”
“That’s helpful,” Judith said, keeping a straight face, “especially for a doctor.”
“Maybe,” Jim said, frowning, “I should go see Anemone.”
Judith made no comment. Jim stood on one foot and then the other. Finally, he headed for the staircase.
Renie was nowhere to be seen. Rick and Rhoda had taken their salad plates to an Italianate credenza that stood within convenient reach of the glass-fronted liquor cabinet. Paul was standing guard by the sofa where Connie lay with her eyes half closed.
Dr. Selig stood up straight and removed his spectacles. “I’m prescribing a higher dosage of Valium,” he said. “Your pharmacy will deliver it tonight. You must have complete rest until the funeral services Monday. Your nerves are completely shattered.” He turned to Paul. “You will see that she follows my instructions, won’t you, Mr. Tanaka?”
“To the letter,” Paul said grimly.
“Well, then,” Dr. Selig responded, closing his black case with the Cruz Cruise line logo embossed on the leather exterior, “take the lady home. She should never have ventured out this evening. I warned her about overdoing it the other night after the…tragedy aboard ship.”
Connie opened her eyes. “I couldn’t stand it, Doctor. I felt as if I were going crazy in that big condo without Mags.”
“Understandable,” Dr. Selig said, “but unwise. You need to recover your strength, physically and emotionally.”
Judith had moved over to where the St. Georges were drinking martinis and nibbling on baby spinach leaves. “What set Connie off?” she whispered.
“Courtesans,” Rhoda replied with a shrug. “What else? That’s what we were talking about.”
“Power,” Rick said softly. “We were also talking about robber barons and kings and things.”
Connie was being helped to her feet by Paul and Dr. Selig. Chevy had appeared from the foyer with coats and Connie’s handbag. Renie was right behind her.
“Mags was a self-made man, but he