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  He followed her out and pulled a chair around to face her. “Give it up.”

  She told him everything while he drank his Scotch, and when she was finished, she said, “I feel like hell. You should have seen the look on Suze’s face when I asked Margie about her mom’s dishes.”

  “Helena was dressed up and she had her good jewelry on,” Gabe said.

  Nell nodded.

  “She really did kill herself.” Gabe sighed and sat back, and she scowled at him.

  “You sound relieved.”

  “I am. I was afraid she’d been murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Nell said. “What’s going on?”

  “That car title was dated two weeks after Margie’s mom died. And there’s no record of any case that my dad was working on for Trevor at that time, plus he would have billed him for anything straight.”

  “Oh,” Nell said.

  Gabe nodded. “We still don’t know why Trevor handed over the car, but at least it wasn’t to help him cover up a murder.”

  Nell thought about it. “And you think this is all connected to the blackmail at O&D. And to Lynnie.”

  “That’s one guess.”

  Nell sighed. “I wouldn’t have your job for anything. No wonder you’ve been in such a lousy mood all week.”

  “Hey,” Gabe said. “I think I’ve been very open-minded, considering your track record.”

  “You’ve been a bastard,” Nell said. “But you’re right, I deserved it.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re right. I’ve been in a lousy mood.”

  “So what are you like when you’re not in a lousy mood?” Nell said, settling back to sip her drink.

  “Pretty much the same,” Gabe said. “My way or the highway.”

  “That stung, did it?” Nell shook her head, remembering. “She was something else. You know, at the bank, when she offered me that partnership, I almost wanted to take it. She was really seductive. She kept saying if we worked together we could really do some damage.”

  “You told me,” Gabe said. “It was my least favorite part.”

  “The thing is, I liked her,” Nell said, remembering Lynnie’s sharp face and vibrating energy. “I knew I shouldn’t, but I really did. She was so alive. She didn’t let any guy get her down. I wanted to be like her.”

  “May I just say thank you for the rest of my gender for not joining her? Talk about a nightmare.” He tossed back the rest of his Scotch as she frowned at him.

  “Oh, thank you very much. Could you please remember I’m on your side?” She looked at him, squared for battle, and met his eyes.

  They weren’t hostile.

  “I not only remember,” he said, “I’m counting on it.”

  After a long moment during which she tried to remember what they’d been talking about, he put his glass on the floor and stood, saying, “I’m keeping you up.” She followed him to the door, and he turned back when she opened it for him. “Just a suggestion, but you might not want to open the door to strangers in your pajamas.”

  “I knew it was you,” Nell said. “And these things cover everything I’ve got. Big deal.”

  Gabe shook his head and went out into the night, and Nell locked the door behind him and went back upstairs to crawl into bed with Marlene. Marlene looked at her with unimaginable pain in her eyes. “Oh, right, I owe you a biscuit.” She fished it out of her pocket and held it out to the dog.

  Marlene’s eyes were half-lidded and she looked as though she were on her last breath.

  “I’m sorry it took so long,” Nell said, still holding out the biscuit. “The boss showed up. Looking pretty damn good, I might add. And here I am in old pajamas. He complained. Maybe I should get some new ones. Snazzier ones.”

  Marlene’s half lids began to look more like contempt than death.

  “You’re right,” Nell said. “What are the chances he’ll ever stop by after bedtime again?” She stretched farther to give the dog the biscuit, and Marlene turned her head away, overcome.

  “Take it or lose it,” Nell said, and Marlene took it gently and lay on her back, staring woefully into space.

  “Chew,” Nell said, and Marlene gave up and rolled over and scarfed the biscuit down. Then she sighed and snuggled down into the chenille, and Nell scooted over and patted the bed next to her. “Come here, baby.”

  Marlene picked up her long nose, considered the spot, and lay back down again.

  “Oh, thanks,” Nell said, and pulled the chenille throw up farther on the bed, next to her. Marlene sighed and staggered to her feet, dragging her long body up the bed to flop on top of the chenille against Nell’s stomach. “There,” Nell said, scratching her behind the ear as she snuggled down next to her. “Isn’t that better?”

  Marlene yawned, but she didn’t flutter, so Nell took it as assent.

  “We’re proud, independent women, Marlene,” Nell said, trying not to think of Gabe standing dangerous in the dark. “We don’t need men.”

  Marlene looked at her with definite contempt and then buried her face in the chenille and went to sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  “Thank you,” Gabe said when Nell brought in a package the next morning. She was wearing a bright blue sweater and a short navy skirt, nothing like the slim gray suits she’d been sporting since he’d hired her, and not much like the tissue-thin flannel pajamas she’d had on the night before, either. He was never going to be able to look at an Eeyore with innocent eyes again. And now there was this new outfit to contend with: The blue sweater made her hair seem even brighter, and the short skirt showed a lot of her legs, which were terrific.

  “A guy just dropped this off,” Nell said, and he stopped looking at her legs to take the package.

  “Tell Riley this came,” he said as he opened it.

  “What is it?”

  “Police report on Helena Ogilvie’s suicide.”

  “Oh,” Nell said and went to get Riley.

  An hour later, he looked at Riley and said, “It’s not tight.”

  Riley raised his eyebrows. “She got dressed up. Margie was on the phone with Trevor when she shot herself. The gun had been in the house for years. She left a note, for Christ’s sake.”

  Gabe shook his head, wanting it to be a suicide and less sure than ever before. “I don’t like the coincidence that Trevor was on the phone when she pulled the trigger. I don’t like any coincidences, but that one in particular stinks.”

  “Not necessarily,” Riley said. “Margie was telling him that Helena was acting strangely. He told Margie to take her to a hospital. That’s logical.”

  “He made the call,” Gabe said. “At exactly the right time.”

  “Maybe Helena heard them on the phone and decided she wasn’t going to a hospital. Maybe she figured if Margie was on the phone, she’d have help when she heard the shot.”

  Gabe pulled the photos back from Riley’s side of the desk. They were hard to look at, not because of any gore, which was minimal, but because Helena Ogilvie was so pathetic, a small, chubby woman dressed in a good silk suit who should have been at a garden show or a bridge game and not sprawled dead in her garage, her diamond-encrusted hands splayed on old oil spots. “I don’t think the cop who did this report thought it was a suicide, either,” he said. “Look at all these photos. Look at all the interviews he did. Jack Dysart, for Christ’s sake. He was looking for something.”

  “And he didn’t find it,” Riley said. “I vote for suicide.”

  “I want a second opinion,” Gabe said and buzzed Nell.

  “I’m not asking Margie anything else,” she said when she came in.

  “Come here,” Gabe said. “Look at this.”

  Nell came around to his side of the desk and looked over his shoulder and took a step back. “Oh, no.”

  She turned away, and he said, “Stop being such a baby.”

  “Don’t spring stuff like that on me,” Nell said. “Warn me.”

  “This is Helena Ogilvie,” Gabe said patien