The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [41]
Maybe the pool was a medical necessity, not a wasteful, unnecessary luxury. He thought it over and decided that even if it was a rationalization, it was a damn good one.
He dawdled over a light meal at one of the restaurants along a four-lane city street that led to the foothills before driving to Cassie Bedlow’s house. Lights were on inside and his knock at the door was answered by a somewhat frumpy, motherly looking woman.
“Ms. Norvell?” he asked, displaying his shield.
“I’m Cassie Bedlow,” she answered, looking a bit nonplused. “Is there a problem in the neighborhood?”
“No, I’d like to ask you about Anna Marie Montoya.”
Bedlow’s expression turned grave. “Please come in. I read that her body had been found, and that the police were calling it a murder. After all these years, how sad.”
The word elegant came to mind as Kerney crossed the threshold into a small entrance hall that led to the step-down living room. Two matching easy chairs covered in ivory-colored fabric sat at opposite ends of a large copper-top coffee table. The oak floor was stained a rich brown that contrasted nicely with a neutral gray area rug. The sofa was a soft peach, positioned to give a view of a carved stone fireplace with casement windows on either side. Two expensive traveling bags were on the floor in an archway that most likely led to a bedroom suite. From all appearances, Bedlow made a very good living operating her modeling and talent agency.
She sat with Kerney and answered his questions without hesitation. She’d known Anna Marie in college, but not well, and had no idea who Montoya had dated during her senior year. She knew no one who fit the rich playboy profile Jeremiah Perrett had described as Anna Marie’s love interest. Kent Osterman had been Bedlow’s college boyfriend for a while, back when she was anorexic, forty pounds lighter, and didn’t have to highlight her hair to cover the gray.
“Was Kent interested in Anna Marie?” Kerney asked.
Bedlow shook her head. “Kent liked his girlfriends blond, skinny, and fun-loving.”
“How did Osterman locate you?” Kerney asked.
Bedlow didn’t understand the question. “Excuse me?”
“He knew you before you were married, when you were still Cassie Norvell.”
“Oh, that. He gets the alumni magazine. I was featured in an issue last year. A piece about women graduates who became entrepreneurs.”
“I’ve heard your agency is very successful.”
Bedlow smiled prettily. “I’ve been blessed in that regard, but it’s been a lot of hard work.”
“Are you still married?” Kerney asked.
Bedlow laughed. “Not for a very long time.”
Kerney said good night, left Cassie Bedlow to her unpacking, and drove to Santa Fe thinking he’d been wise not to get optimistic about his new lead, which seemed to be fizzling out quickly. Tomorrow, he’d contact the remaining names on Osterman’s list by phone and see where that took him.
The light on the answering machine blinked at him when he got home. He played back a message from Sara asking him to call and not to worry about the time, because she’d be up late studying.
He dialed her number and she answered immediately. “What’s up?” he asked.
“I just wanted to hear your sexy voice,” Sara replied.
“You sound sleepy.”
“I am. My eyes are crossed and I can’t read another page.”
“What are you reading?”
“A monograph by an archaeologist who researched the battle site at the Little Bighorn. He suggests that contrary to popular belief, Custer didn’t blindly go up against overwhelming odds. He made all the correct orthodox, tactical field maneuvers and still got his butt kicked. So much for thinking inside the box. Why are you home so late?”
“Just working. I saw my orthopedic surgeon today.”
“And?”
He told her about the newly developed artificial knee, how it would perform, and the idea of building a swimming pool at the new house to use for exercise.
“But I’m thinking maybe a lap pool would be better,” Kerney