E Is for Evidence - Sue Grafton [31]
"His wife felt Lance drove him to it?"
"Not quite. She thought Lance murdered him."
"Oh, come on!"
"Well, he was the one who stood to benefit. There was a rumor floating around at the time that Hugh Case in-tended to leave Wood/Warren and start a company of his own in competition with us. He was in charge of research and development, and apparently he was on the track of a revolutionary new process. The desertion could have caused us serious harm. There are only fifteen or so compa-nies nationwide in our line of work so the defection would have set us back."
"But that's ridiculous. A man doesn't get murdered because he wants to change jobs!"
Ebony arched an eyebrow delicately. "Unless it repre-sents a crippling financial loss to the company he leaves."
"Ebony, I don't believe this. You'd sit there and say such a thing about your own brother?"
"Kinsey, I'm reporting what I heard. I never said / believed it, just that she did."
"The police must have investigated. What did they find?"
"I have no idea. You'd have to ask them."
"Believe me, I will. It may not connect, but it's worth checking out. What about Mrs. Case? Where is she at this point?"
"I heard she left town, but that might not be true. She was a bartender, of all things, in that cocktail lounge at the airport. Maybe they know where she went. Her name is Lyda Case. If she's remarried or gone back to her maiden name, I don't know how you'd track her down."
"Anybody else you can think of who might want to get to Lance?"
"Not really."
"What about you? I heard you were interested in the company. Isn't that why you came back?"
"In part. Lance has done some very foolish things since he took over. I decided it was time to come home and do what I could to protect my interests."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning just what it sounds like. He's a menace. I'd like to get him out of there."
"So if he's charged with fraud, it won't break your heart."
"Not if he's guilty. It would serve him right. I'm after his job. I make no bones about it, but I certainly wouldn't need to go about it in an underhanded way, if that's what you're getting at," she said, almost playfully.
"I appreciate your candor," I said, though her attitude irritated me. I'd expected her to be defensive. Instead, she was amused. Part of what offended me in Ebony was the hint of superiority that underscored everything she did. Ash had told me Ebony was always considered "fast." In high school, she'd been daring, a dazzler and wild, one of those girls who'd try anything once. At an age when every-one else was busy trying to conform, Ebony had done whatever suited her. "Smoked, sassed adults, and screwed around," was the way Ash put it. At seventeen she'd learned not to give a shit, and now she seemed indelibly imprinted with an air of disdain. Her power lay in the fact that she had no desire to please and she didn't care what your opinion of her was. Being with her was exhausting and I was suddenly too tired to press her about the little smile that played across her mouth.
It was 6:15. High tea wasn't doing much for someone with my low appetites. I was suddenly famished. Martinis give me a headache anyway and I knew I smelled of secondhand cigarette smoke.
I excused myself and headed home, stopping by Mc-Donald's to chow down a quarter-pounder with cheese, large fries, and a Coke. This was no time to torment my cells with good nutrition, I thought. I finished up with one of those fried pies full of hot glue that burns the fuck out of your mouth. Pure heaven.
When I got back to my place, I experienced the same disconcerting melancholy I'd felt off and on since Henry got on the plane for Michigan. It's not my style to be lonely or to lament, even for a moment, my independent state. I like being single. I like being by myself. I find soli-tude healing and I have a dozen ways to feel amused. The problem was I couldn't think of one. I won't admit to depression, but I was in bed by 8:00 P.M. . . . not cool for a hard-assed private eye