"All you do," she said, "is act as if you belong and they don't. Another little trick my husband taught me. I'm not saying it's right, I'm just saying I learned it from him."
We rode up in silence. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I was trying to figure out the best way to get to Pauline Conrad. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Bess King was across the hall and ringing the doorbell without me having to direct her. Her eyes were hard and her entire manner had changed. Gone was the country girl, and in her place, a hard-nosed, all-business woman.
Footsteps scuffed across the foyer on the other side of the door. Someone peered out through the peephole, and then the door swung open on its chain.
Pauline Conrad wore bunny slippers and flannel pajamas. Her hair was pulled back from her face by a soft pink headband, and all the makeup had been carefully scrubbed away. She looked ten years old, with an early onset case of acne.
"Bess," she said, stuttering slightly and obviously startled.
"Hello, Pauline. Mind if we come in? I need to talk to you." Bess spoke softly, but like my old school principal, with authority and strength that simmered just below the genuine warmth and kindness. I didn't know how she was pulling it off. This was the latest in a string of women who'd slept with her husband on a regular basis, eroding her marriage into the sham it had become when she met Vernell.
Pauline closed the door, removed the chain and then swung it wide to admit her late-night visitors. As Bess stepped through the door, Pauline started offering her tea and coffee and all manner of drinks and hospitality, but Bess shook her head and waved her away.
"Let's go sit in your living room and have us a little talk," she said. She smiled, but I was reminded of the old tale Mama used to tell about the mongoose and the snake. I was willing to bet that the smile on Bess King's face matched the smile the mongoose gave the snake, right before it killed it.
Bess sat down on a white overstuffed sofa and glanced around the elegantly appointed room. It was all done in shades of white and cream, with rich textures and fabrics that screamed of money. A beautiful oil painting of a naked woman hung over the marble edged fireplace. The frame was thick with gold leaf covering its ornate scrollwork.
"My," Bess said, looking around. "Nosmo did have taste. Or did he hire a decorator?"
Pauline turned bright red, then began to pale. "Bess, it isn't…"
"Shut up, honey," Bess said. "It is exactly what it looks like. And don't think I'm especially offended by you. You're just the latest in a string of women that Nosmo installed here in his little love nest. I've known about it for years, so don't feel special."
Pauline started to cry and this only irritated Bess.
"Now listen," she said. "Don't waste your little crocodile tears on us, we really don't have time for them. I want you to start by telling me what happened to my husband."
Pauline choked off a sob and started to cough.
"Get her a glass of water," Bess said to me. As I headed for the kitchen, Bess continued. "I know you were with Nosmo at breakfast the morning he disappeared. I know you went off with him and Vernell Spivey. I know Vernell was drinking. Now, when you can pull yourself together, I want to know how my husband died."
I walked back into the room with the glass of water a minute later and found Pauline blowing her nose and Bess staring at her with an unrelenting gaze that would've made me confess to any manner of sins.
Pauline took the glass from me with a hand that shook so hard it threatened to spill the water over the edge.
"All right," she said. "Here it is, but you're not gonna like it." She tried to look spiteful, but it came off more like she had something stuck in her eyes.
"I know about them other girls," she said, "but Nosmo loved me. We were gonna get married."
Bess snorted. "I could care less about that. Tell me the facts, not your dreams."
Pauline tossed her hair back over her shoulders and went on. "That morning we had breakfast at Tex and Shirley's, just like always. We sat at a big old round table in the back, Nosmo's table they call it, on account of he sits there every morning, with me, and whoever else shows up. It's tradition. Vernell Spivey was there because he was due to get some money from Nosmo."
Bess leaned forward slightly. "Then what happened?"
Pauline cocked her head and closed her eyes for a second. "Well, a bunch of other folks stopped by and we ate."
"Who?"
Pauline frowned. "Um, Christine Razuki and her boyfriend, Archer. Um, Bill Leon and his 'friend,' Robbie. I guess that's it. I mean, the table was full, we were all packed in there. I guess some other people stopped by, but they were just saying hello. You know, like the city manager, a town council guy, Nosmo's barber. I don't know! What does it matter, anyway?" Pauline looked like she was getting impatient with all the interruptions. "So where was I?" she asked.
"Wait," I said, "I have a question. Where was everybody sitting?"
Even Bess looked puzzled by that question.
"Okay, it's a big circular table with chairs around one half of it, and like a half-circle, booth-seat-type thing around the other half, so it's built into the wall. Nosmo sits in the smack dead center against the wall. I sit to his right. Vernell was on his left." She closed her eyes, thinking again. "Christine's boyfriend sat next to Vernell 'cause they knew each other. Christine sat next to him. When Bill and Robbie came, they took the chairs that were left, across from Nosmo. Okay? Can I go on now?"
Bess and I nodded. But anything that came after this was going to be gravy. I had what I needed. I knew who took Vernell's gun.
"So anyway, after breakfast, Nosmo and Vernell had business to do, so they dropped me off at the condo. Nosmo was getting his oil changed and he said he wanted to look at some property with Vernell, so they took his truck."
"Was Vernell drinking?" Bess asked.
Pauline shrugged. "Well, he told Nosmo he was on the wagon, but Nosmo said they needed to celebrate. We were all sitting in the front seat of Vernell's truck. Nosmo brought out a bottle of Jack and said Vernell should take just one hit, you know, to signify their friendship."
I was having an awful feeling. I was beginning to see all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and I didn't like it at all.
"So then what happened?" Bess asked.
Pauline shrugged. "I don't know. Nosmo told me to leave so him and Vernell could talk. I came home." She began to cry, real tears this time, that rolled down her face and dripped off her chin in big fat drops. "That was the last time I ever saw him," she sobbed. "The very last time!"
"Would you like to see him again?" a cool voice whispered. "Because I think it can be arranged."
The three of us turned, our heads whipping toward the sound of the voice. Christine Razuki, Pauline's guard dog, stood at the entrance to the living room, an ugly silver gun in her hand.
"I thought I told you not to talk to her," Christine said, her voice hard and angry. "I go out for cigarettes and this is what I find when I come back?"
Bess didn't miss a beat. She looked up, looked Christine straight in the eye and said, "Chris, don't go cutting the fool. You know me. Sit down and talk with us, that's all we're doing, talking about Nosmo."
Christine stepped into the room and walked across to a chair by the fireplace, but the gun stayed in her hand, out where it could easily kill any one of the three of us.
"We go way back, Chris," Bess said. "You and Nosmo are part of the business, the Family, if that's what you want to call it. I think the Family owes me a little respect."
Christine inclined her head, nodding slightly. "The Family lost a good man in your husband," she said, "but it was business. It was time to move on, and I can say this to you, Bess, because I know you didn't love Nosmo." Bess started to say something, but Christine held up her hand to silence her. "Respect? Were you going to say respect? Because you didn't respect him either, Bess. Not when you were screwing Vernell Spivey. That's not respect."