• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“How is your companion, Mother?” Lacey said. “Her name is Mrs. Arch, isn’t it?”

“She’s fine. She never says anything, just nods or shakes her head. She’s very boring, but harmless. She’s younger than I am and looks the way my mother would look if she were still alive. She doesn’t try to seduce your father and that’s a relief.”

“Mrs. Arch,” the judge said, “is not younger than you are, Evelyn. She must be all of sixty-five years old. She’s got blue hair and is a good size sixteen. Believe me, your mother never looked like Mrs. Arch.”

“So? She’s not dead yet,” said Mrs. Sherlock. “You’ve slept with every size and age of woman. Did you think I didn’t know? I remember everything once I’m reminded.”

“Yes, dear.”

It was an hour later in Judge Sherlock’s library that Savich finally said, “Sherlock didn’t realize until just recently that Belinda had had a miscarriage. Why didn’t this come out?”

Judge Sherlock was stuffing a pipe. The smell of this particular tobacco was wonderful—rich and dark and delicious. He didn’t answer until the pipe was lit and he’d sucked in three or four times. The scent was like a forest. Savich found himself breathing in deeply. Finally, Judge Sherlock said, “I didn’t want any more publicity. What difference did it make? Not a bit. What do you mean that Lacey didn’t remember?”

“Evidently she’d blocked it out, for some reason neither of us can figure out. She remembered under hypnosis. Do you know why she’d block it out, sir?”

“No, no reason to as far as I can see. It was seven years ago. It no longer matters,” Judge Sherlock said and sucked on his pipe. The library was filled with the delicious, rich smell. Savich took another drink of his espresso, every bit as rich and delicious as the pipe smoke.

Lacey took a deep breath. “Do you know if Douglas was the father?”

“Look, Lacey, Mr. Savich, Belinda shouldn’t have been pregnant in the first place. I told you, Lacey, that Douglas knew they shouldn’t ever have children because of her defective genes. Look at her mother. Her father is even worse. Yes, I keep tabs on him. He’ll be out one of these days, despite my efforts to the contrary. I don’t want that crazy man coming here.”

“But she was pregnant,” Savich said.

“Yes, evidently, but not very far along, not more than six or seven weeks. That’s what the doctor said. After the autopsy, they knew, naturally, that she’d just miscarried, but since it wasn’t relevant to anything, they didn’t mention it. The press never got hold of it, thank God. It would have just caused more pain. Was Douglas the father? I’ve never had reason to suspect that he wasn’t.”

“It would have also caused more outrage,” Lacey said.

“No, not unless they led the public to think that the miscarriage was tied to her murder, and it wasn’t.”

But Lacey wasn’t so certain. Actually, as she told Dillon later as she walked him to the guest room where he was staying, “There are more than just loose ends here. There are ends that don’t seem to have any beginning.” She sighed, staring down at her navy pumps. Candice was right. She looked dowdy and uninteresting. How then could she be a slut at the same time?

Savich pulled her against him, lightly pressing her face against his shoulder. “I know what you mean. It’s infuriating. Everything that comes out of your mother’s mouth makes Alice’s Wonderland look like MIT. How long has she been like this, Sherlock?”

“As long as I can remember. She’s more so now, I think. But I don’t see her all that often anymore.”

“Do you think she could be doing some of this to gain your father’s attention?”

“Oh yes. But how much of it is real and how much is her own playacting? I don’t know.”

“I don’t either.”

“And my father?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, leaned down and kissed her left ear. “I just don’t know. He’s slippery, hard for me to read. But you know, Sherlock, it’s tough not to like him.”

“I like him too, most of the time,” Lacey said and looked up at his mouth. “Do you really want to marry me now that you’ve seen my mother and father?”

“Unfair.