Point Blank

“We’ll see.”

“If I thought you were serious, I’d get him a lawyer.” Chappy rubbed his hands together. “Twister wouldn’t mind having some deep pockets in the family then, would he? What do you think, Dix? One of those O.J. lawyers? What about that little Shrek guy from Boston? Hmm, I could start checking this out, tell Twister what I’m doing.” Chappy walked from the room whistling. He turned in the doorway and gave Ruth a little wave. “I’m going to find a new vase, maybe Japanese this time. Hey, Agent Ruth, I hear Twister asked you out to dinner. You going to go?”

“Depends on the restaurant,” Ruth said easily.

“Wear pants,” Chappy said. “It’s your best defense.” He strolled past the shards of the ceramic bowl without a glance.

“He’s insane,” Cynthia said. “Really, Dix, the old fool is quite mad. Imagine claiming I’m taking birth control pills when Tony and I are trying to have a baby. Imagine me sleeping with Gordon. Hasn’t Chappy looked at his own son? Tony is very handsome, don’t you think?”

“Handsome and weak?”

“I guess I shouldn’t have said that, but Chappy makes me so mad and I mouth off just to get back at him. The reason he won’t let Tony go is that he’s Chappy’s only ticket to immortality now that Christie’s gone—” Cynthia shrugged, looked away from Dix.

“She’s not merely gone, Cynthia, as in off finding herself or on an extended vacation. She’s dead. And you know it.”

Cynthia nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose she is.”

“As I said, the two of you should move away from this house and from Chappy.”

“The thing is, I really don’t want to leave Tara. Maybe Chappy will kick off soon and Tony will inherit all this.”

“Don’t hold your breath. I’d give him another twenty years. You and Tony should move to Richmond. Tony could head the bank there, hire a manager for the bank here in Maestro, and let Chappy torment him. When Chappy’s out of the picture someday, you can move back to Tara, if you like.”

Cynthia strolled over to the front windows, pulled back the heavy brocade curtain and looked out. Cold air flooded the room. She closed the window as she said over her shoulder, “Tony’s afraid to leave, afraid he’ll fall on his face if he does, or that Chappy will disinherit him.”

She shrugged. “Christie could have talked him into leaving, but I can’t. I wish she wasn’t dead, Dix, I really miss her.”

“You didn’t appear to appreciate her all that much when she was here, Cynthia. Why the change of heart now?”

“I know better now, I guess.” Cynthia turned away from the window and paced the full length of the twenty-five-foot library before she turned back again. “Are you here for lunch? Mrs. Goss didn’t say anything to me.”

“No, we’re not here for lunch. For one thing, I wanted to ask you some questions about Chappy’s whereabouts last Friday night.”

“Goodness, that was when you found Ruth, wasn’t it? Chappy was here late, that’s all I know. What did he tell you?”

“That he was here, working in his office,” Dix said. “How about Tony? Where was he?”

“Making me a very happy woman, at least after about ten o’clock Friday evening. He was at the bank all day, I suppose. He usually is. He left for a couple of hours after dinner. He didn’t say where he was going and I didn’t ask. When he came back, he had a bottle of champagne under his arm, a big smile on his face. He wanted to be with me right away, so we went upstairs to bed. I remember Chappy was home because he knocked on our bedroom door about eleven o’clock, demanding to know what I was doing to his son. I was glad I’m always careful to lock the door. That wasn’t the first time he did that.”

Dix didn’t think Chappy had been interested in sex since his wife died so many years before. “He probably wanted to give the two of you grief. Tony didn’t tell you where he went after dinner?”

“He probably went back to the bank. He tries to be anywhere his father isn’t. I’d had another fight on the phone with my mother and I was fuming, not really paying attention to anyone.” She yawned. “Fighting with Chappy always exhausts me. Maybe I’ll drive to Richmond, do some shopping; it’ll help me forget.”

“You’re not going to Erin’s memorial?” Ruth asked.

“I really didn’t know her all that well, now did I?” Cynthia yawned and rose.