appetite.â
âThat makes two of us.â Renie sighed. âI was starved last night, but Art Hueyâs food is always terrific. Today, I feel sort ofâ¦blah.â
âThatâs not like you,â Judith remarked. Renieâs appetite was usually boundless. âI suppose itâs natural. Weâve been through a lot.â
âTrue,â Renie said as someone knocked on the door but entered before either cousin could respond.
âMrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones?â The man who spoke was Addison Kirby, who closed the door behind him and immediately introduced himself. He was hatless, and wearing a classic trench coat over dark slacks, a tweed jacket, and a light-brown flannel shirt. âMay I?â
âYou want to see us?â Judith asked in surprise.
The newspaper reporter gave a curt nod. âItâll only take a minute.â
âOkay,â Judith said, puzzled. âHave a seat.â
Addison started to sit down in Judithâs visitorâs chair, then hesitated. âAre you sure?â he asked, his penetrating hazel eyes darting from cousin to cousin.
âPositive,â Renie said, draining her apple juice. âI recognized you out in the hall. Let me say right off, Iâm terribly sorry about your loss. Your wife was a wonderful actress, and Iâve heard she was a fine person as well. She always seemed active in helping raise money for charity.â
Briefly, Addison hung his head. He was going bald, but there were only a few strands of gray in his well-kept beard. âShe was terrific in every way,â he said, looking up. âOn top of it, we managed to raise three children who are now off and on their own. We have two grandchildren, charming little twins. Joan was so fond of them. Weâd visit when Le Repertoire wasnâtâ¦â He stopped abruptly and bit his full lower lip. âSorry. Iâm not here to talk about that.â
âThatâs okay,â Judith said with sympathy. âGo ahead, tell us whatever you want to.â
âNo, no,â Addison replied, now very businesslike. âI have just a couple of questions.â Again, he paused, this time to clear his throat. âThis morning, before Bob Randall died, did either of you see or hear anything unusual?â
Judith and Renie exchanged quick glances. âNo,â Judith finally said. âI donât recall anything.â
âYouâre sure?â Addison Kirby looked disappointed.
Renieâs expression was uncharacteristically diffident. âI did hear Randall talking on the phone this morning while I was in there.â She gestured at the darkly stained wooden door to the bathroom. âHe was talking about somebody named Taylor, or to somebody named Taylor. I couldnât catch much of it, though.â
Addison looked puzzled. âThe only Taylor I know was Joanâs eye doctor. But itâs a common name. Thatâs all you heard?â
âIâm afraid so,â Judith responded with an apologetic expression. âWhy do you ask?â
Kirby shook his head. âIâm paranoid,â he said. âObsessed. Nuts.â
âWho isnât?â Renie offered.
Standing up, Kirby replaced the visitorâs chair and jammed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. âI had an appointment this morning to meet with Dr. Garnett, the chief of surgery. Iâve got a lot of unanswered questions about Joanâs death. Garnett had been stalling me, figuring, I suppose, that anything he said would be on page one of the Times âs next edition. But he finally gave in, and weâd just gotten started when he was summoned to this floor. I could tell it was urgent, so I followed him, and learned that Bob Randall had died. I didnât really know Bob, but Iâve seen him around town over the years. Anyway, it seemeddamned peculiar, with Joan dying so suddenly and Joaquin Somosa, the same