“He’s a businessman. Started Facebook?”
“Oh, yes, I’m on that. Total nonsense. People talk such rubbish, don’t they? So, your podcast? Where can I listen to it? Will I be able to get it on cassette?”
“It’s not out yet, actually, just working toward optimization, you know.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Carol wanted to ask a very personal question. She thought she knew the answer but she wanted to be sure. She decided that rather than trying to disguise the intrusiveness of the question the best thing to do was to underline it. Make a joke of it. You could, at her age, get away with a lot. Old women were just nosy. That was the stereotype. Why not exploit it?
“So, new car. You’ve come into some money, haven’t you? Forgive me, I’m just an old gossip. Was Hannah left a lot in the will?”
Shep laughed, giddy. You got the sense he was delighted at the chance to talk about it. He lowered his voice. “Millions.”
“Oh, isn’t that lovely? Shame it had to come in such tragic circumstances.”
Shep tried and failed to remove the smile from his face. “Yes, tragic. Very, very tragic. Gone too soon. May he rest in peace. Giles!”
Giles, out of his running clothes now, was passing by.
“Shep! Buddy!”
The two men went into an enthusiastic embrace. Shep immediately looked at ease now that someone his own age was there. Someone of his own background. Carol was all too aware of the effect her age could have on some younger people. It made them uncomfortable. Oh, yeah, sure, you’ve lived a long life. Well done and all that. But how does onetalkto that? Too many people just didn’t know.
“I suppose this is the last we’ll be seeing of you,” said Giles.
“Oh, you haven’t seen the last of me, G-Man. I’ve still got some pitches I want to run up your flagpole. There’s so much you’re notdoing with this place that you could. Here’s two words for you. ‘Ice. Rink.’ ”
Carol, despite her mission, found herself edging away. It was the phrase “G-Man.” Shep, it had to be said, was not her sort of person. Luckily for him, that was no longer an executable offense. She found herself in a daydream, picturing Shep’s face going through all the colors of the rainbow as she squeezed his throat until the life fell out of him. One more kill? For old times’ sake?
“Well, I’ll be off, then. Lovely to see you both,” she said, with a jolly smile.
They said their goodbyes, and as she entered the building the conversation continued.
“Okay, okay, no ice rink. What if you apply for a license for a euthanasia clinic? They do it here, on-site, you get a cut of the fee.”
“Only problem with that, mate, we’d be killing all our customers.”
“Right, right, yeah, see what you’re getting at, buddy. See what you’re getting at.”
“Actually, buddy,” said Giles, “there is something I needed to talk to you about…”
Their voices blessedly drifted away as the automatic doors closed behind her. Carol had no desire to hear whatever inane direction the two men’s conversation was headed in. She approached the front desk. Before she went back to her apartment, she wanted to check something. Derek, the security guard, was asleep in his chair. So sedentary was he that he reminded her of a pet you constantly found yourself checking wasn’t dead. By contrast, the always-on-her-feet Elisa was by the lifts, in an animated conversation with Tyler.
Carol focused. In a hurry, she opened up the guest book and went straight to Wednesday, the day of Desmond’s murder.
Yes. He was there: 3:00 p.m.
Shep Newsom.
Fifteen minutes before the murder.
Shep Newsom.
The murder that had made him a millionaire.
Shep Newsom.
Nineteen
