“Model paint. Enamel. The little bottles he uses for his airplanes.” She waved a hand. “That’s not the point. The point is the way he looked at me. Like a trapped animal. And then Claudia came around the corner and he snapped back to normal so fast it gave me whiplash. Just—wiped up the paint, smiled, said he’d been startled. Like nothing happened.”
“What do you think he’s doing?”
“I don’t know. But something’s going on with him. Has been for months. And Claudia—“ Paula paused, choosing her words. “Claudia acts like everything’s fine. She’s always acted like everything’s fine. But I’ve watched her at family events. She watches George the way a handler watches a dog that bites.”
She uncrossed her arms and sat on the edge of her workbench, suddenly tired. “Look, Gina. I know how this looks. The artist with the solvents, the angry daughter with the motive, the woman who said she was glad the old witch was dead. I know I’m on your list. But I didn’t do it.”
She met my eyes. Steady. Direct. The kind of eye contact that either meant she was telling the truth or she was very, very good at lying.
“I loved her,” Paula said quietly. “Underneath everything, all the fighting and the years of silence—I loved her. And I hate that she died thinking I didn’t.”
I stood in the chemical-scented studio with the light pouring through the big windows and the paintings watching us from the walls, and I wanted to believe her. Every instinct said to believe her. Paula was blunt and honest and she wore her damage on the outside where everyone could see it.
But someone in this family had poured poison into a teacup and washed the evidence before the body was cold, and that someone had looked their family in the eye every day since and smiled.
“I believe you, Paula.”
I mostly did. Mostly was the best I could offer anyone right now.
She walked me to the door. At the threshold she stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Find the diary, Gina. Before whoever has it uses it.” Her grip tightened. “Because whatever Mom had on me, she had worse on other people. And some of those people don’t handle pressure the way I do.”
I drove home thinking about George in his locked den, paint on the carpet, jumping at shadows. Did he use solvents with methanol for his model planes?
Paula was either innocent or the best liar in the family. George was either grieving or hiding something that made him lock his door against his own wife. And somewhere, in someone’s hands, a diary full of leverage was ticking like a clock.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“George’s alibi is his wife,”I said, pacing the length of Tammy’s back room while the coven watched me like a tennis match. “That’s it. George says he was home with Claudia, Claudia says she was home with George.”
Lori sipped her tea. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“I’ve been thinking about nothing else.” I stopped pacing and dropped into a chair. “George is nervous. You should’ve seen him at the house — fidgeting, flinching every time someone looked at him. Couldn’t sit still for five minutes. He barely said a word the whole time I was there, and when he did talk, he kept looking at Sal first, like he needed permission.”
“Classic guilty conscience,” Tammy said. It wasn’t a question.
“And then there’s the den. Carmen says he’s locked himself in there for months. The deadbolt is new — he installed it after the funeral. Who puts a deadbolt on an interior door unless they’re hiding something?”
Jill, who’d been quiet, set her water glass down carefully. “So what’s the plan? You can’t exactly interrogate him. You’re not even — I mean, no offense, but you’re the ex-sister-in-law. You don’t have standing to — “ She caught herself mid-corporate-jargon and winced. “Sorry. Old habits. What I mean is, George barely talks to family. Why would he talk to you?”
“He won’t. And it’s not like I get invited to family gatherings, but know where I can get a chance to talk to Claudia.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “She’s chairing a Humane Society benefit tomorrow night. Silent auction, the whole thing. George has to show up — it’s Claudia’s event, he can’t skip it without making a scene. If I can get in, I can watch him in public. See how he handles himself when he can’t hide behind a locked door.”
I looked at Tammy. “Can you get me on the guest list?”
Tammy was already pulling out her phone. “Helen Briggs is on the Humane Society board. She owes me a favor from the lobster festival. I’ll have your name on the list before dessert.”
“Just like that?”
“I know everyone in a fifty-mile radius and half of them eat at my restaurant. Just blend in, drink the cheap wine, and you’ll get your chance to talk to Claudia.”
From the bar mirror, Rosaria materialized. She’d been silent for the past hour, which meant she’d been saving up.
“I am coming,” she announced.
“You can’t — “
“George has been acting like a man with a guilty secret since the day I died. I want to see his face when he thinks no one is watching.” Rosaria’s eyes were hard. “My younger son was always a terrible liar. Even as a boy — he would break a vase and stand next to the pieces with his hands behind his back, looking at the ceiling. Subtlety was never his gift.”
