The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [45]
“Just asking,” Rainie replied lightly. “So the four of you are playing cards.”
“Hi-low-jack,” Mary supplied.
“Great. Hi-low-jack. Party starts at . . .”
“I wouldn’t call it a party,” Mary said immediately. “We were drinking soda, you know. I told Mr. Quincy that we were drinking Coke.”
“I got that. Playing cards, drinking Coke. You started at?”
“Nine, maybe ten. Sue’s still a waitress and she had the dinner shift.”
“You guys started that late on a weeknight?”
“Sue and Mandy waitressed, Tommy’s a bartender. So they don’t have to be at work until noon at the earliest. And I . . . well, hours don’t really matter much for me anymore.”
Rainie thought she detected a trace of bitterness there. All was not well with Cinderella and Prince Charming. “You played cards until?”
“Two-thirty.”
“Drinking soda the whole time.”
“Yes,” Mary said quickly. Too quickly. She looked down at her lap, where her fingers were now intertwined. Here we go, Rainie thought.
“You told Mandy’s father that she didn’t have anything to drink other than Diet Coke.”
“I said I didn’t see her drink anything other than Diet Coke.”
“You didn’t see?”
“I didn’t see.”
Rainie stood up. She put her cup back on the silver tray, happy to be rid of breakable objects. Then she turned back on Mary, and this time her gaze was hard. “Didn’t see, Mary? Didn’t see? Now why does that seem to imply that Mandy might have been drinking after all, but you don’t want to admit it?”
Mary’s gaze had become fixated on her lap. She untangled her fingers, twisted the three-carat rock on her left hand, then tangled her fingers back up again.
“I swear I didn’t know,” she whispered.
“Do us both a favor, Mary. Spit it out.”
Mary’s head jerked up. Her eyes were growing darker; maybe Mrs. Doctor Olsen had some fire in her after all. “She carried the Diet Coke can with her everywhere, okay? I didn’t think much of it at the time, but Mandy kept the can with her everywhere. You know, even when she went into the bathroom.”
“You think she might have been mixing her own drink on the side. Looks like Diet Coke, smells like Diet Coke, oops so I added a little rum.”
“It wouldn’t have been the first time.”
“Alcoholics do learn some good tricks,” Rainie agreed, though personally she’d never been one for mixed drinks. For her, it would always be beer. “Well, let’s think about this, Mary. Amanda is doing a little bartending of her own. You say she got here ten at the latest, and didn’t leave until two-thirty. That’s at least four and a half hours of spiked Diet Coke. Couldn’t you tell?”
“No,” Mary said immediately. There was a clarity to her voice now, certainty that had been previously lacking. Interesting. “That was the thing with Mandy,” Mary continued earnestly. “No matter how much she had to drink, she always seemed fine. Functional. Back when we were working, she used to brag about her tolerance. We all believed her. We never thought . . . never would’ve thought, that she had a problem.”
“So her joining AA was news to you?”
“Yes. Though later, when we all looked back on things, it made sense. There were some nights after closing that she’d sit in the bar and down eight drinks before heading home. Even if she seemed all right, how right could she be? She wasn’t much bigger than me and alcohol doesn’t exactly evaporate from your bloodstream.”
“So she could’ve been sneaking drinks that night and you wouldn’t have known?”
“Yes.” Mary nodded her head emphatically. “That’s true.”
“What about this mystery man?”
“Mystery man?” Mary blinked.
“At the funeral, you implied to Quincy that Mandy had met someone. The new love of her life.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I’m not sure where Mr. Quincy got that idea. I don’t remember saying any such thing. Why would I say such a thing?” Mary spoke in a rush.
Rainie cocked her head to the side. She regarded Mary intently. “Maybe Quincy misunderstood you.”
“Maybe.” Mary nodded vigorously. “It was a funeral. He wasn’t in the best shape. None of us . . .” Her voice choked for the first time, her head