Pennies on a Dead Woman's Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page B

reasoned, these were hard times for a gay person. Ted had lost his oldest friend to AIDS, more recent friends and former lovers, too. So far—thank God—he’d tested negative for HIV, but the prospect of a positive result always cast enough of a shadow so that Ted had engaged in no relationships for quite some time.
    Loneliness, I thought now, was the crux of his problem. Throwing himself into his work couldn’t fill the void; neither could any amount of laughter and joking and socializing. And much as we at All Souls loved him, that still couldn’t take the place of the love of one special person. Still, you have to try to help….
    I perched on the edge of his desk. “Want to talk?”
    He shrugged again. “Nothing to talk about. It’s just more of the same.”
    â€œI’m always here for you.”
    â€œI know that. Friends like you are what keep me from hanging myself from the roof beam.”
    â€œThat’s just as well—the skylight guy says it’s rotten, remember?”
    He smiled faintly.
    â€œBy the way,” I added, “did Tony Neuva call me while you were sitting here?”
    â€œNobody’s called, and I don’t see any message in your box.”
    â€œOdd. Well, I’m out of here. See you Monday.”
    As I went upstairs to fetch my jacket and bag, I wondered about Tony. This was the first time since I’d been using him that he’d failed to deliver when promised.

CHAPTER FOUR
    The evidence at this trial will show that the defendant, Lisbeth Ingrid Benedict, had the motive, the opportunity, and the means to murder Cordelia McKittridge. It will further show that Mrs. Benedict made complicated and well-thought-out preparations for her crime, and that she went to the dovecote on the Seacliff property belonging to the Institute for North American Studies on the evening of Friday, June twenty-second with full intent to kill the young woman she had lured there.
    The portion of the transcript containing Deputy District Attorney Joseph Stameroff’s opening statement lay on my kitchen counter. I wanted to go over both it and the closing statement before my dinner guests arrived in two hours. Now I left off reading and went to stir the lumpy grayish white mixture in the cast-iron skillet on the stove.
    Stameroff had argued persuasively for the People, and the state’s case, while circumstantial, had been strong. But there were a few holes, made obvious by the passage of time and my own detachment. Holes that might lead to various avenues of inquiry.
    I gave the mushroom mixture a final stir and went back to my reading.
    The evidence at this trial will show Lisbeth Benedict’s motive to be age-old unoriginal; a betrayed wife’s jealousy of her husband’s younger paramour. The defendant’s solution to the problem of a faithless husband was also age-old and unoriginal, but she took advantage of her opportunities in a creative manner. The opportunity: The evidence will show that Mrs. Benedict was aware of her husband Vincent’s habit of meeting with Miss McKittridge at the dovecote on the think tank’s property. That she knew he set up these assignations by note rather than by telephone. That she was aware that on the night of June twenty-second her husband, his colleagues, and their spouses would be at a banquet in honor of visiting Secretary of State John Foster Dulles at the Blue Fox restaurant downtown—an event no one would miss.
    A bubbling noise came from the stove; the heat under the skillet was too high. I adjusted it, then picked up the wooden spoon and tasted a mushroom. It had no more flavor than cardboard, was overpowered by the green chilies. And the sauce . . . it must have been the low-fat cottage cheese that had given it that lumpy consistency. The yogurt didn’t help the flavor, and the lack of salt . . . Quickly I grabbed the shaker and dumped in a couple of teaspoonfuls, then pulled