Free Who Murdered Garson Talmadge by David Bishop

a minute here. Can I get you something stronger than ice tea? I’ve got most anything you’d want.”
    “Irish whiskey?”
    “No. I’m sorry. I’m going to get some wine. Join me?”
    “Sure. That’d be nice.”
    “Its white wine. Okay?”
    I nodded, although I had never really known if white wine was for drinkers or people who wished to appear to be sophisticated drinkers.
    She came back a moment later carrying two stemmed wine glasses. The wine was obviously cold; the glasses were dressed in condensation. “Are you Irish?” she asked.
    “With a name like Matthew Kile, what’s to doubt? But if you want proof, I’ll let you pet my leprechaun.”
    “I’ve never heard it called that before. I guess it’s small.” She frowned. “All leprechauns are small, or so I hear.”
    “Not too many Irishmen go around showing each other their leprechauns, so I don’t really know how mine might compare with other leprechauns.”
    “Will it stand at attention and take orders?”
    “Willie sometimes has a mind of his own, but Willie lives to serve, my good woman.”
    “Willie, huh, I guess yours must be special to have a name.”
    “I’m going to change the subject now, if that’s all right?”
    “Sure. We can come back to Willie at any time. As you said, Willie lives to serve; I assume that includes damsels in distress.”
    “The story is that your dad was a broker of illegal weapons. True?”
    “He did some of that, years ago. He quit before we left France. Not that quitting made his doing it okay, but it does make it old news.”
    She stood again and went to the glass sliding door. “The sun hits the water every day about this time, reflecting into my living room.” She used two pull chains. The first drew the vertical Venetians across the glass; the second chain angled them closed.
    “The way I see it,” I said, watching her walk slowly back to the couch, “it’s possible, if not likely that someone from those days killed your father. Someone who wanted to be sure the details of certain weapons deals didn’t come out.”
    “Could be.” She sat back down, again curling her legs onto the cushion. “But I don’t believe it, all that’s back at least ten years. Anyone concerned about that stuff would’ve killed Papa a long time ago. I’m telling you Clarice killed him for the oldest of reasons, money.”
    “I way I hear it, your dad called your brother in the middle of the night to tell him he planned to cut Clarice out of his will, and then your brother called you. Is this correct?”
    “Yes. That was the call I told you I got from Charlie just after the club closed.”
    “Your brother still lives here in town, right?”
    “A few miles from here, on Ocean Boulevard, I can give you the address?”
    “I have it.”
    Susan escorted me to the door where she moved in close. “Have you been coming on to me, Mr. Kile?”
    “Whatever made you think that, Ms. Talmadge?”
    “Susan.”
    “Whatever made you think that, Susan?”
    “The interest you and Willie were taking in my bathing suit. Would you like to come onto me, Mr. Kile?”
    I moved back one step. “I’m trying to do my job.”
    “I don’t know if I was all that helpful, but hopefully I improved your working conditions.”
    “Yes you did, and I thank you for that.”
    She stepped forward, erasing my step back and held my gaze with her own. “Unlike my stepmother, I’m not married.” Then she kissed me, not the grab-and-squeeze kind, more gentle, our bodies touching, but she kept her hands on my shoulders.
    “What are you doing?” I asked.
    “Failing, if you can’t recognize what I’m doing.”
    “Why?”
    “I like you.”
    “Everybody likes everybody when they’re kissing.”
    She slowly moved her hand down my arm and brought it around to a more central location. My body rose to meet her.
    “Been a while, eh, Mr. Kile?”
    I decided not to mention my celibacy calendar. “Matt. Please.”
    “Been a while, eh,