The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [46]
“Mary, are you sure you want to stick with this story? That your best friend got loaded on her own. Drove home on her own. Mowed down an old pedestrian on her own.”
“I’m telling you what I know to the best of my knowledge—”
“It’s not what you said four weeks ago at the funeral.”
“It is, too! Mr. Quincy got it all wrong! I don’t know, maybe he’s even more grief stricken than we thought so now he’s grasping at straws and twisting what I said. Who knows what grief-crazed fathers do!”
“Grief-crazed?” Rainie echoed skeptically.
Mary finally flushed. She looked away. On her lap, however, her fingers were tangling and untangling furiously. Rainie figured it would be a miracle if they didn’t end up with whiplash. Rainie took a deep breath. She nodded at Mary thoughtfully. She took her time and paced the room.
“Beautiful furniture,” she commented.
Mary didn’t say anything. She looked now as if she would cry.
“Must have cost your husband a lot of money.”
“Mark inherited most of it,” she murmured.
“Still makes quite an impression. Must have blown you away the first time you saw all this. Cinderella, entering the castle.”
“Please, I’m telling you the truth about Mandy.”
“Fine. All right, you’re telling the truth. I haven’t denied it. I mean, I wasn’t around a year ago. How do I know what your best friend drank on your last night together? How do I know if she laughed honestly while playing cards with you, or if it was some kind of drunken stupor? Hey, I don’t even know if she hugged you before she left, thanked you for a great evening and for keeping her busy on the long nights when she was doing her best not to drink. Quitting cold turkey is tough. I’ve been there. It’s tough and good friends make all the difference.”
Mary bowed her head again. Her shoulders had started to shake.
“You’re pretty lonely, aren’t you, Mary?” Rainie said bluntly. “You’re sitting in the house you always thought you wanted, and it’s a prison cell. The proverbial gilded cage.”
“I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore.”
“Your best friend’s dead, your husband works all the time. Yeah, if I were you and I met the right man, someone who told me I looked pretty, someone who complimented my smile, I’d pretty much do whatever he wanted.”
“This is crazy! I don’t know what it is you think you’re doing, but we’re through. I mean that.” Her head came up. She said sternly, “Get out.”
And Rainie replied with the same artlessness Mary had employed before: “You mean you’re not looking for a new best friend, Mary? You’re not looking for anyone new to betray?”
“Damn you!” Mary sprang to her feet. “Harold!” she yelled. “Harold!”
The butler came scurrying into the room, his eyes wide at the hysteria percolating through his mistress’s call. Rainie feigned a yawn, while Mary stabbed a shaking finger in her direction and screeched, “Get her out. Out, out, out!”
The butler looked at Rainie. He was middle aged, and his bald head and gaunt features really didn’t make him the intimidating type. Rainie, on the other hand, lounged against yet another side table with her right hand positioned strategically on a heavy gold candelabrum. Poor Harold didn’t know what to do.
“Do you miss her?” Rainie asked Mary. “When Wednesday night rolls around, do you miss Mandy at all?”
“Get out!”
“The irony is,” Rainie persisted softly, “that Mandy was the drunk, but I’m willing to bet she would’ve missed you. If your positions had been reversed, she would’ve missed you badly.”
“Harrrrrooooold!”
The butler finally edged his way over to Rainie and put a hand on her arm. His touch was light, but firm, and she gave him credit. He managed to hold himself with regal dignity, when God knows the rest of the situation had clearly moved beyond that.
Rainie gave in to the light pull of his hand, and let him lead her back into the foyer toward the door.
Mary, oddly enough, followed right behind them, her features still distorted and her right hand pressed protectively against her belly.
“Thank you for the coffee,” Rainie said politely to Harold.