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"What triggered the realization?"
"Nothing in particular. It's like being in a dark room with the lights suddenly flipped on."
"What will you do if you leave?"
"I'm not sure, but something simple. I probably feel the same sense of amazement at this place that you do. I wasn't born with money. My father was a grade-school custodian and my mother worked in a pharmacy, stocking shelves with dental floss and Preparation H."
I laughed at the image. "Well, you look like you belong here."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment. I'm a quick study. When Ke
"Don't you enjoy having all these things?"
"I suppose so. I mean, sure, it's nice, but I spend most days in the sewing room. I could do that anywhere."
"I can't believe you're saying this. I heard you were nuts about Ke
"I thought so myself and I was, I suppose. I was totally infatuated with him in the early days of our relationship. It was like a form of craziness. I thought he was powerful and strong, knowledgeable, in charge. Very manly," she said in a deep voice. "He fit my image of what a man should be, but you know what? He turns out to be rather shallow, which is not to say I'm so profound myself. I woke up one day and thought, What am I doing? Really, it's a struggle to be around him. He doesn't read. He doesn't think about things. He has opinions, but no ideas. And most of his opinions he picks up from Time magazine. He's so shut down emotionally, I feel as if I'm living in a desert."
"That sounds like half the people I know," I said.
"Maybe so. It might just be me, but he's changed a lot in the last few years. He's so brooding and dark. You've met him, haven't you? What's your reaction?"
I shrugged noncommittally. "He seems okay," I said. I'd only met the man once, and though I didn't find him attractive, I'm wary about bad-mouthing one spouse to another. For all I knew, they'd reconcile later in the evening and all my remarks would be reported verbatim. I shifted the subject. "Speaking of reactions, what was yours to Isabelle? I take it that's part of what your testimony will be about."
Francesca made a face, stalling her response until she'd topped off our wineglasses. "That and the infamous gun disappearance. All of us were there. As for Isabelle, she was a bit like Ke
"You and Ke
"That's right. We met at a fund-raiser at the Canyon Country Club. I was there with a friend and someone introduced us. Isabelle had just left him and he was like a whipped puppy dog. You know how it is. There's nothing quite as irresistible as a man in need of help. I was smitten. I pursued him. I thought I'd die if I couldn't have him. I must have looked like a fool. People tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. The entire six months his divorce was in process, I nurtured and patted and petted and cooed."
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Oh, I got what I wanted for all the good it did me. We were married the minute he was free, but his heart wasn't in it. He was hung up on her, which kept me hooked for a long time. I knew he didn't love me so how could I resist the man? I had to fawn and grovel. I had to please him at any cost. Nothing worked, of course. I mean, basically he prefers women as rejecting of him as he is of me. Isn't that pathetic? He'll probably fall head over heels in love with me the day I serve him with papers."
"What changed your attitude, the cancer?"
"That was part of it. The lawsuit has had an effect on top of that. I realized, at a certain point, it was just his way of staying co
"What about their daughter, Shelby? How does she fit into this?"
"She's a nice enough kid. He hardly sees her. She's hardly ever home. Once in a while-like, every two or three months-he goes to visit at school and takes her out for the day. They go to di
"I thought the legal wrangle was for her, to make sure she's provided for."
"That's what he says, but it's ridiculous. He's heavily insured. If anything happened to him, Shelby'd get a million dollars. How much more does she need? He refuses to let go. That's all the lawsuit's about. God, do I sound like a bitch?"
"Not at all. I appreciate your candor. Frankly, I didn't think you'd tell me much."
"I'll tell you anything you want to know. I don't care about these people. I used to feel protective. There was a time I never would have said a word. I'd have felt guilty and disloyal. Now, it doesn't seem to matter much. I've begun to see them with great clarity. It's like being nearsighted and suddenly getting prescription lenses. It's all so much clearer it's astonishing."
"Such as what?"
"Just what I've been talking about… Ke
"She and David met at work, isn't that how it went? Peter Weidma
"That's right. It was 'love at first sight,'" she said, making quote marks with her fingers.
"You think he killed her?"
"David? I'm not sure how to answer that. During the trial I sure thought so, but now it doesn't make much sense to me. I mean, look at the situation. Hasn't it ever struck you how 'feminine' the murder was? It's always amazed me that no one's mentioned this before. I don't mean to sound sexist, but there's something almost 'sanitary' about shooting through a peephole. Maybe it's my prejudice, but I tend to think when men kill it's more forceful and direct. They strangle or bludgeon or stab. It's real straight-ahead stuff. Even when they shoot, there's nothing devious or sneaky. It's like boom! They blow your head off. They don't tiptoe around."
"In other words, men tend to kill face-to-face."
"Exactly. Shooting through a peephole, you wouldn't have to take responsibility. You wouldn't even have to look at the blood, let alone risk getting spattered. David may have harassed her, but he was so visible about it. Right out there in front of God and everyone. Restraining orders, cops, the two of them screaming at each other on the phone. If he really killed her, he must have known he'd be the first person they'd suspect. And that business about his jogging? What a stupid idea. Believe me, the man is smart. If he were guilty, then surely he could have come up with a better alibi than that."
"But what are you suggesting? You must have some kind of theory or you wouldn't be saying this."
"Simone's a possibility."
"Isabelle's twin sister?"
"Don't you know the story?"
"I guess not," I said, "but I'm sure you'll fill me in."
She laughed at my tone. "Well, look at the story. They never really got along. Isabelle did as she pleased and poor Simone was left holding the bag half the time. Isabelle had everything-ostensibly, at any rate- looks, talent, a darling child. Ah, and that was the sticking point. Simone wanted to have a baby more than anything. Her biological clock had jumped to daylight saving time. I take it you've met her?"
"I talked to her yesterday."
"And you noticed the limp?"