The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [44]
“I could handle coffee,” Rainie said at last, her voice booming off the marble.
“Decaf or regular?”
“Never saw the point to decaf.”
Mary Olsen smiled. Rainie thought the expression appeared tight on her face. She was nervous, Rainie realized. Little Mrs. Doctor Olsen was frightened of her.
Wow, she felt good for the first time in days.
Mary descended the stairs. She held on to the railing with both hands, which Rainie found interesting. So the former waitress was now living in a mansion, but obviously still not comfortable about it. When Mary hit floor level, Rainie got her second surprise. The woman was three inches taller than Rainie and had the dark eyes and sultry features of a Supermodel. That explained Dr. Olsen’s interest, but he was dressing her all wrong. Screw Laura Ashley. Mary should be running around in V-neck dresses colored deep, sinner’s red. Then again, the Olsens would probably go through a lot more butlers that way.
“We’ll go into the front parlor,” Mary said, her features carefully blank. “Follow me.”
Rainie dutifully followed. The front parlor turned out to be bigger than her whole loft, crowded with white-painted French antiques, and decorated with more pale colors, this time blue and cream. When Mary sat on the delicate loveseat, her dress blended right into the silk-covered cushions. One minute Rainie was with a person, next minute it looked like she was interviewing a sofa with a head.
“As I mentioned on the phone,” Rainie said, “I have a few simple questions about Amanda Quincy.”
Mary held up a hand. “The coffee, please.”
Rainie blinked, feeling gauche. Then she realized that good old Jeeves was hovering with a silver tray bearing an antique coffee urn and two tiny china cups. He set the serving tray down on a side table and did the honors of pouring the first dose. Rainie accepted hers with genuine trepidation. The paper-thin china looked old, rare, and highly fragile. She was guessing that it held approximately three sips of coffee, at which time she’d be forced to refill the cup herself from the heavy silver pot. Maybe she’d just nurse this batch.
“Nice place,” Rainie tried, attempting to balance the teacup on her knee while still trying to figure out why Mandy’s best friend appeared so nervous.
“It’s been in my husband’s family for generations.”
“He’s a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Works lots of hours?”
“Of course. He’s one of the best neurosurgeons in the country and his patients need him.”
Rainie was getting a few things now. “Older?”
“In his forties.”
“Met him where you used to work, huh? Went from best tipper to permanent meal ticket. Not bad.”
Mary flushed. “I suppose you could look at it that way.”
“Oh no, trust me, I admire you. Wouldn’t mind meeting a neurosurgeon, myself.”
“Mark’s a wonderful husband.” Mary was still in defensive mode.
“Mark and Mary. Oh yeah, those Christmas cards have got to be killers.”
“I thought you said you were working on Mandy’s accident.”
“You’re right; I’m getting off track. So about the night in question—”
“What about that night?” Mary interrupted. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the reason for this interview. The accident happened over a year ago. Mandy got drunk, she drove. She did that sometimes, you know. I don’t see any point in you being here.”
“Well, I heard about the coffee, thought I’d stop by.” Rainie sighed at the confused look on Mary’s face. Sarcasm was definitely lost on the woman. “So, about that night. You told Mandy’s father that she had come over to play cards.”
“That’s right. We always played cards on Wednesday night. At least we did.”
“Who’s we?”
“Mandy, myself, Tommy, and Sue.”
“You knew each other from . . .”
“We used to work together, at the restaurant, before I met Mark. Why is this relevant?” Mary had