The Second Mouse - Archer Mayor [10]
It seemed that Rubinstein was either inattentive to her surroundings, flat broke, or both, unless this was the latest in negative chic.
He got out of his car, cautiously approached the porch steps and the front door beyond, and knocked, to an instant response of deep barks from within.
These were quelled by a short one-word command, just before the door swung back to reveal a tall, slim woman dressed in jeans and a soiled T-shirt, accompanied by a very large dog of confusing lineage.
“Hey,” the woman said, with a wide smile.
The greeting alone set her up as an outsider.
“Hey, yourself,” he answered, going along. The dog sat placidly by her side, waiting for direction. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about Michelle Fisher.” He stuck his hand out. “My name’s Joe Gunther. I’m with the police.”
She shook his hand, her face more serious, if only slightly. Joe imagined that she had either gotten over the worst of her shock at Michelle’s death or had only been a friendly acquaintance to begin with.
“You didn’t talk with the other cop?”
Joe nodded. “He’s the one who told me about you. Don’t worry. I’m not here to make you go through the whole thing again. I just wanted to know if anything else had occurred to you.”
She pointed to a dangerous-looking wicker armchair on the porch. “Sit?”
He chose the marginally more solid porch railing as she turned and addressed the dog. “You want in or out?”
The animal considered his options before turning around and vanishing into the darkness.
Rubinstein took the chair she’d offered Joe, looking at him carefully as she settled down.
“Does this mean you think something happened to Michelle?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Not necessarily, but it makes sense to ask.”
“You get the ME report back yet?”
He laughed. “That’s right. Doug said you used to be a nurse. Where was that?”
“New York,” she told him. “Feels like a million years ago. We used to see a lot of you guys in the ER, poking around.”
Her tone remained light, so he took her words at face value. “Yeah—always best to strike while the iron’s hot. Is that the kind of work you did? ER?”
“Mostly,” she admitted. “It finally got to me. Plus, it was time for a change.”
Joe sensed volumes more hovering just beyond sight. Without thinking, but feeling the pain of a kindred spirit, he risked admitting, “Yeah—I know what that’s like.”
“You haven’t always been a cop?” she asked reasonably.
His face colored slightly. In fact, he’d been a cop all his professional life, which was starting to mean something. But that wasn’t what he’d meant. He thought back to how he’d laughed when Matthews mentioned his breakup with Gail, and how the woman before him might be worth visiting as a result.
The thought deepened his embarrassment. Was he here because of that? He’d rationalized that he’d merely wanted to ask her about Michelle, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I guess I have at that.”
Rubinstein looked at him quizzically. She was very attractive, wearing her years well. He guessed she might be close to fifty but had clearly stayed trim and fit. The New York connection was an interesting coincidence, since that was where Gail had come from originally, although the two women looked nothing alike. Their manner was similar, though—self-confident and assured. They both presented themselves as people who’d cut their own paths in life.
“Nothing new has occurred to me, by the way,” she said, interrupting his daydreaming.
“What?”
“About Michelle.”
He rubbed his face with his hand, pulling himself back on track. “Right. Sorry. You’d known her for how long?”
“A couple of years. We just kind of hit it off, and I really liked Archie. A truly sweet man. So after he died, it was pretty natural she and I got closer. She was a wreck.”
“Took the loss hard?” he asked.
Her face hardened, throwing him off. He thought it might be because his question had sounded stupid. But her answer told otherwise.
“I guess everyone does that, don’t they? Dance around