Professionalism prevents disapproval, Susan said.
So the term hussy is just a clinical designation, I said.
Certainly, Susan said. She has every right to wear her skirts as short as she wishes.
She wears short skirts? I said.
Like you didnt notice.
So do you like Rita, Ms. Professional?
Red-haired floozy, Susan said.
I so admire professionalism.
Susan and I stood on the little barrel-arched bridge over the lagoon and watched Pearl the Wonder Dog as she tracked the elusive french-fry carton. Her face was gray. She didnt hear well. Her back end was arthritic and she limped noticeably as she hunted.
Old, Susan said to me.
I nodded.
But her eyes are still bright and she still wags her tail and gives kisses, Susan said.
Me too.
Ive been meaning to speak to you about the tail wagging, Susan said.
Pearl found a nearly bald tennis ball under the island end of the bridge and picked it up and brought it to us and refused to drop it. So we patted her and Susan told her she was very good, until Pearl spotted a pigeon, lost interest in the ball, dropped it, and limped after the pigeon.
She hasnt got long, Susan said.
No.
Then what do we do?
If she has to be put away, can you do it? I said.
Yes.
Good.
Because you cant?
I dont know about cant, I said. But if you can do it, Ill let you.
I thought you were fearless, Susan said.
I am, but its embarrassing for a guy as fearless as I am to cry in the vets office.
But its okay for me?
Sure, I said. Youre a girl.
How enlightened, Susan said.
Pearl came back to check where we were. Since her hearing had declined she was more careful about checking on us. Susan bent over and looked at her face.
But not yet, Susan said.
No.
Susan put her arms around my waist and pressed her face against my chest. I patted her back softly. After a while she pushed away from me and looked up. Her face was bright. The shadow had moved on.
Okay, she said.
Okay.
Im hungry, she said.
I have cold chicken and fruit salad, I said. And I could make some biscuits.
We had to wait until Pearl looked at us and then gesture her to come. When she arrived Susan snapped her leash back on and we headed slowly, which was Pearls only pace, back toward Marlborough Street.
Do you really think Mary Smith didnt do it? Susan said.
Im sort of required to, I said. Ah, professionally.
Susan gave me a look. But when youre not being professional, Susan said. Like now.
I wish there was another explanation for how Nathan Smith got shot to death in a locked house with his wife downstairs, and she didnt hear a thing.
So why do you think she didnt do it? Other than professionalism.
It just doesnt feel right. She doesnt feel right. If she did it, wouldnt she have a better alibi than I was downstairs watching Channel Five?
You said she wasnt very bright.
She appears to be very dumb, I said. But wouldnt she have at least faked a break-in? Window broken? Door lock jimmied? Something? How dumb is dumb?
Susan smiled. I would say that there is no bottom to dumb.
You shrinks are so judgmental, I said.
Maybe, she said. But some of us are sexually accomplished.
Nice talk, I said. In front of Pearl.
Pearls deaf as a turnip, Susan said.
And a blessing it is, I said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I went back to my list of names. A number of Mary Smiths 226 other best friends didnt know her at all. They could be handled by phone. Some werent available. Some needed to be called on. None appeared to be an ex-boyfriend. The last call I made was to a woman named Clarice Taggert, who was the director of corporate giving at Illinois Federal Bank. I met her in the bank cafeteria, where she was drinking coffee at a table near the door. I had described myself on the phone and she stood when I came in.
You said you looked like Cary Grant, she said.
You recognized me when I came in, I said.
She grinned. You dont look like a banker, she said. Want coffee?
We took our coffee to a table. She was a strong-looking black woman in a pale gray pantsuit with a white blouse. She wore a gold chain around her neck. There was a wide gold wedding band on the appropriate finger.
What can I do for you? she said.
Tell me about Mary Smith, Ms. Taggert.
Clarice, she said. You dont vamp around much, do you?
I did that on the phone, I said.
Mary Smith was a very good hit for various charities.
She was generous?
More than that, Clarice said. She was generous with her own money, and active in getting other people to give.
How so?
She was always eager to throw a fund-raising party.
Like?
One of the things she did was to host a gourmet dinner at her elegant home in Louisburg Square, prepared by a celebrity chef from one of the restaurants. Sometimes there would be a celebrity there-sports, local television, politics, whoever they could snare. And people would pay X amount of dollars to attend. Theyd get a fancy meal, and a house tour, and, if there was a celebrity, the chance to eat dinner with him or her.
Thats why she has a PR guy, I said.