The Most Dangerous Thing - Laura Lippman [115]
“And—?” Gwen is shocked at how nervous she feels and hopes that Tess Monaghan can’t tell. It’s like driving down the road, glimpsing a cop in one’s rearview mirror and starting to shake despite being within the speed limit. No, it’s not like that, because Gwen is not without blame.
“He never spoke at all, not during the meetings. He was a little more open during smoke breaks.” Tess Monaghan laughs. “My poor partner, who hates cigarettes, took to smoking clove cigarettes and now has a bit of a penchant for them. Still, he talked only of his family, his wife and his daughters, how he was doing this for them.”
“It’s your messages to him that got him kicked out of the house,” Gwen says, eager to shift blame, to make someone else feel as twitchy and uncomfortable as she feels. “Which is probably why he started drinking again. And died.”
Tess Monaghan studies her intently. “Do you believe that? That’s not a rhetorical question.”
“Not exactly,” Gwen admits.
“You were attempting leverage, to guilt me into telling you things I just can’t tell you. I might do the same thing in your position. But please understand, I am working with an attorney—a very high-powered one, not my usual kind of gig. I have to respect the client’s wishes or I’m in violation of the agreement I signed, and this lawyer will come down on me like a ton of bricks if I do that. He’s a prick that way.”
“So why are you in business with him?”
The baby emits a comically large burp, delighting her mother. “The client’s a sweetheart. And the circumstances—I almost wish I could speak of them because it’s darn fascinating.” She laughs again, this time at herself. “Darn! As if this lump in my arm would be shocked by my old vocabulary, but I really have trouble cursing in front of her. Let’s just say my client is that rare person who’s interested in justice.”
Again Gwen is feeling far from comforted.
“Can you tell me anything?”
Tess thinks for a moment. “The client lives quite far away. New Mexico. I’m willing to tell you that one detail so you’ll understand it’s not someone you can find.”
“At what time in his life did Go-Go know this person?”
Tess gazes at the ceiling, absentmindedly places her lips against her daughter’s temple. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that Gordon did know this person. Or that he didn’t. When I finally spoke to Gordon—”
“You spoke to him? His wife thought—”
“I didn’t stop trying to speak to Gordon after he moved out, although I didn’t realize my calls had anything to do with that. And he affirmed what I believed and what my client believes. But now he’s dead and all I have are my notes from that brief conversation, and my notes—they’re not enough.”
“Enough?”
“They’re not proof of anything. I will say this much: I think my client was right in assessing Gordon’s character.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s essentially an honest person and has a hard time carrying secrets. He very much wanted to do the right thing. Look, my investigation is ongoing.” Gwen feels another flush of panic. “That’s why I have to be reserved about it. And any media attention, the barest whiff, would have horrible repercussions. You can’t imagine.”
Gwen can, though.
Tess Monaghan walks her to the door. It’s cool for April, and she cups a hand protectively over the baby’s scalp. “I worry about her immune system because she was a preemie. I make her wear hats to guard from cold, no matter how balmy it is, overdress her. Like all women, I have become my mother.”
Only Gwen hasn’t. Her mother never would have left her, under any pretext, not when she was Annabelle’s age. Her mother waited until Gwen was a teenager before she even dared to stake out a life of her own, through her painting. And by then Tally had so little time left. Would she approve or disapprove of Gwen as a parent? Could Gwen ever have lived up to her example—the well-kept house, the perfect meals? No, she runs a magazine for those who aspire, as she does, to be like her mother—effortlessly