In Self Defense by Susan Sloan (phonics books .TXT) 📕

“Thank you,” the detective murmured, settling herself in the proffered chair.

“No, thank you,” Clare said.  “It’s nice to have a visitor.  It’s funny, you know.  For days after Richard died, this place was filled with people, wall to wall, wanting to offer comfort and support.  We couldn’t get them to leave.  But as soon as the funeral was over, poof!  They vanished -- like a switch that flips on and then off.  I guess they figured it was time for me to move on and time for them to get back to their own lives.”

“It’s like that,” Erin agreed.

“But the thing is, the grief doesn’t end at the funeral” Clare said.  “I was in such a daze that whole time, anyway, I barely knew that anyone was here.  And I find that it’s now that I need the comfort and the support, now that it’s beginning to sink in that Richard’s really gone and the children and I are alone.”

“I lost my father a while back,” Erin found herself revealing.  “So I know what you mean.  My mother still isn’t over it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clare said with genuine sympathy.  “I know what it’s like to lose a parent, too.  Both of mine are gone now.  I hope your mother will be okay.  Mine never really was.  I sometimes think she died the same day my father did.  It just took her body a few more years to figure it out.  Anyway, now that I know you understand, I’m even more pleased that you came to see me.”

“Yes, well, this isn’t just a social call,” the detective had to admit.

“It isn’t?” Clare responded.  “But I thought the investigation was over and the case was closed.”

“Pretty much,” Erin said smoothly.  “There are just a few more loose ends to tie up.”

Doreen arrived with the tray at that moment, temporarily halting the conversation.  The tea service was Wedgwood, Erin couldn’t help noting, and it was accompanied by a basket of muffins, so fresh that the steam was still rising from them.

The housekeeper set the tray down on the exquisite Louis XIV side table positioned between the two women, smiled at Erin, and departed.

Clare did the pouring.  “Cream and sugar?” she asked politely.

“Just sugar,” Erin replied.

Clare passed her a cup and nodded at the basket of muffins.  “Those are honey almond,” she said.  “Doreen’s famous for them.  I highly recommend you try one.”

“Thank you,” Erin said, unable to resist, in spite of herself.  The detective had never been to tea before in her life.  She put down her cup, placed a muffin on a plate, balancing the plate on her knees while she retrieved her teacup, and then did her best to juggle both.  She felt awkward, way out of her element, and she wondered if Clare knew it, and if it was intentional.

“You were saying something about a few loose ends,” her hostess prompted a moment later.

“Yes,” Erin responded, deciding not to sneak up on the subject, but to go right at it.  She swallowed a bite of her muffin, and set down her cup of tea.  “Are you acquainted with Stephanie Burdick?”

The brown eyes across from her flickered, so slightly it was hardly noticeable.  But Erin was trained to notice such things.

“We’re not what you would call friends, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clare said.  “But of course I know her.  We’ve served on several committees together.”

“But you and your husband didn’t travel in the same social circle?”

“Hardly,” Clare informed her guest.  “Richard and I might have been active in the community, but that didn’t put us in Stephanie Burdick’s league.  After all, I’m the daughter of a Greek immigrant, and Richard came from a trailer park in Lacey.”

“Did that bother you?”

“Me?”  Clare was genuinely amused.  “Heavens, no.  Let me assure you, Detective Hall, that I’ve always been quite comfortable with who and what I am.  I have no social aspirations.”

“And your husband?”

“Well, normally I would say that you would have to ask him about that,” the widow said without even a hint of irony.  “But under the circumstances, I’ll simply say that Richard may have been ambitious in ways that I am not.”

“Was your marriage a happy one?” Erin asked.

“I always thought it was,” Clare replied.  “At least, as happy as most marriages are, I suppose.  But of course, I can’t speak for Richard on that account.”

“Was there ever any talk of divorce?”

“Divorce?” Clare echoed.  “Other than in the heat of an argument, as sometimes happens in the best of marriages, the answer is no, not really.”  She gave the detective a long look.  “Why are you asking all these questions?”

Erin sighed.  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted.

“Are you perhaps trying to find out if my husband was having an affair?”

“Not exactly,” Erin replied, taking full advantage of the opening.  “What I’m trying to find out is if you knew your husband was having an affair.”

Unexpectedly, Clare laughed.  “In the fourteen years we were married, I think I probably knew more about Richard than Richard knew about himself,” she said.  “And in all that time, I never knew him not to be having an affair.”

Erin blinked.  “You knew your husband was involved with Stephanie Burdick?”

“You mean did he flaunt it?” Clare queried.  “No.  Richard could be very discreet when he wanted to.  But then, he always had a keen eye.  I had no idea who his current fling was with, but I must admit, she’s certainly a lovely girl.”

              “Well,” Erin said, shifting a bit awkwardly in her chair, “the lovely girl in question seems to think that you knew your husband was returning a day early from his business trip.”

              Clare looked blank.  “I think Stephanie must be mistaken,” she said after a moment.  “I did speak to Richard that afternoon, but as far as I knew, he was still in Vermont.  He was at the Burlington plant for a series of tests on a new product he was pretty