Dead Man Talking
Page 15
Chapter 9
Sir Gary stared at Alice’s untouched drink. The cat curled on Katy’s vacated chair, the dog on his haunches a few feet away. Alice returned but pushed the drink glasses aside and leaned on the table. Sir Gary fought a smile. Katy wasn’t here to remind her that elbows on the table were a faux pas.
“Do you think they serve highballs on the other side of the light?” he asked. “I do miss a relaxing drink now and then.”
“I don’t know,” Alice replied. “I never asked about beyond the light. I figure I’ll know all about it some day. You’re ready to make that trip, then?”
“That’s why you’re here. I have tried, but something blocks the portal.”
“Not being able to cross over happens sometimes if you don’t take advantage of your first opportunity. Would you care to enlighten me as to your death?”
He ran a finger through the moisture on the untouched drink glass. His finger just passed through. “I really cannot remember the actual happening. I recall the passageway, and knowing I had a choice whether to go or stay. However, I was extremely angry about something left unfinished. I wanted that done and over with before I continued." He leaned back and shook his head. “You cannot possibly know how many times I have regretted that decision.”
He watched Alice closely to see if his story stirred sympathy. Most women — men, too — ran to beat the blue blazes when he visualized. Only Katy had been different. Had he been mortal, he and Katy would be a good match. She attracted him from his first glimpse. All that femininity packed into a petite, lush body. Perky breasts, long, slim legs, and buttocks the right size for a man’s hands . . .
Alice broke into his musings. “Do you remember who you were with prior to dying?”
He drummed his fingers silently on the table. “Yes. Earlier that day. My lover.”
“As opposed to your wife?" She flashed him a disgusted look.
He shifted and recrossed his legs. “You see, my wife and I didn’t get along at all, and — ”
“Don’t give me that bullshit! That excuse is older than you are, and I’m not interested in justifications for adultery!" He tried to appear suitably chastised as she blew out a breath and continued, “You said it was murder, but undeliberate murder.”
“Somehow I know that, but not the actual circumstances.”
“I’ll have to learn more about your life to see if we can figure it out. Especially the last few months. What you were doing. Where you were. Who your friends were." Reconsidering, she added, “Probably about your marriage, also, much as I hate to have to sit through that. But there’s an excellent possibility your wife found out about your...shall we say, indiscretions?”
“My wife could not have been involved,” he said softly. “She was injured in a riding accident shortly after we were married. It left her unable to walk.”
“Oh." She studied his face, obviously searching for the possibility he was lying. He wasn’t. He met her gaze direct, not caring if she discerned the lingering, shadowed pain he felt. The dog whined and moved closer, and Sir Gary stroked his head. Alice nodded, so maybe she filed that part of his story under truth in her mind.
“Well, then . . .”
“The accident was my fault."
He wanted to unload further, but Alice fidgeted. Possibly, like him, she didn’t know what to say in situations where someone revealed abiding guilt. His wife still lived in his mind, although logically she followed him into death long ago. But his guilt was as fresh as his pain.
“I’m sorry,” Alice interrupted when he started to speak again. “I can’t spend all my time with you. We’ll have to set aside a time to talk when I’m not busy with Katy or my writing.”
Irritated, he stifled the urge to glare down his nose, not used to being delegated second place. But she might re-file the story about his wife under “consider,” thinking him a good actor.
She shoved her chair back and rose before he could wheedle her into changing her mind. “I’ll give you an hour this evening in the library. Say after dinner, around eight o’clock. I don’t want Katy involved. Talk of mysterious death isn’t something she needs to hear right now.”
She swept toward the door with a haughty look that would have done the Queen proud, then paused. His loneliness abated and he eagerly leaned forward, waiting for her to return. But she only frowned and said, “Gary seems a strange name for a former English aristocrat.”
He dropped his eyes. As they said in this time, he didn’t want to go there.
“Well?” she prodded.
“I was the second son,” he explained, hoping to leave it at that.
“So?”
“My older brother received our father’s first name. James." He glanced up to see her staring unwaveringly at him and sighed. “From what I understand, my mother demanded the right to name me. Unfortunately, her father’s name was Garfield.”
Alice giggled, and he straightened in his chair. “I emigrated to the New World after my time in The Tower, and lived near Boston with that blasted name all my life. As you’re well aware, from what I read in your books, some of us in this state can travel around until we find an abode we enjoy. I eventually found my way here to Esprit d’Chene via a convoluted trip through New Orleans. I never visualized to your dear Aunt Emmajean during my tenure, but I watched that television late at night when she slept. Once I saw this wonderful movie called High Noon, with this marvelous Gary Cooper in the starring role.”
Alice studied him for a second longer. “So you changed your name,” she mused. “Garfield, Gary." Then she nodded and conceded, “You do look more like Gary than Garfield." Her giggles lingered as she continued through the kitchen. The dog and cat paraded after her.
Humph. She could have left one of them behind for company. His lips thinned. Obviously, Alice had her priorities mixed. Too bad he’d overcome the urge to run that dastardly Bucky off the first time he laid eyes on him. Then the bloody fool wouldn’t have been murdered here, glitching his well-laid plans!
No help for it. This damn murder had to be put to rest.