Free A Murderer Among Us by Marilyn Levinson Page B

marriage—if you’re so interested.”
    Lydia ignored Peg’s hostility because yes, she was extremely interested. “Oh? Marshall receives nothing?”
    “Not all that much. Claire handed over quite a chunk of her money to Elinor and her husband when they started their antiques business. Why do you ask? Do you think Marshall ran Claire down?”
    “Frankly, I don’t know what to think.”
    “Because he wouldn’t! He’s not that type of person.”
    “Peg, how do you know so much about the Weills’ finances?”
    Peg gave a little laugh. “When you get friendly with Twin Lakes people, they talk freely—about their children, their health and their money.”
    “What about their love affairs?”
    “What love affairs?” Peg sounded shocked.
    “I’ve no idea. Doris Fein told me Claire was worried her husband was running around again.”
    “Really? Whom did she suspect?”
    “She didn’t tell Doris. I suppose that’s a secret she kept in her diary.”
    “Claire kept a diary?”
    Lydia let out a breath of exasperation. “It’s just an expression, Peg.” Then she gave voice to the bitchy thought that had crossed her mind. “What about Sally Marcus? Do you think she and Marshall were having it off?”
    “I wouldn’t know.” Peg said good-night and hung up.
    Lydia waited until the following afternoon, after food shopping and lunching out with Barbara, to call Detective Molina. She was told he was on another line and asked if she could hold. When he came on, he sounded rushed.
    “What’s up?” he asked.
    She repeated her conversation with Peg and felt a twinge of guilt when she told him Caroline’s observations at the shiva.
    “Interesting.” He sounded wistful when he added, “That spread of food must have been something awesome to behold. I bet she served really good belly lox and a mean whitefish.”
    “Oh!” Lydia exclaimed. “You like bagels and lox and—all that stuff?”
    Detective Molina laughed. “Why not? It’s my heritage, at least the Solomon half.”
    “Oh!” Lydia repeated, surprised. “You’re half-Jewish.”
    “And my mother saw to it that my daughter was a Bat Mitzvah.”
    And your wife? Lydia wanted to ask. What’s her part in all this? What’s she like? But there was no time. Detective Molina had changed the subject.
    “Getting back to the case, your neighbor’s on target regarding Mrs. Weill’s finances. We’ve checked out the terms of her will.”
    Curious, Lydia asked, “How long were Claire and Marshall Weill married?”
    “Thirty-two years. They have one daughter, Elinor Weintraub. She of the beautiful house.” He paused, as though debating whether or not to tell her something else. Lydia held her breath, then exhaled when he continued.
    “Claire’s son and daughter from her first marriage flew in from California and Michigan to attend the funeral. A taxi drove them from the cemetery to Kennedy Airport.”
    “No shiva call for them,” Lydia commented. “Which leads one to assume they have no use for Marshall Weill or their half-sister.”
    Molina laughed. “Actually, they’re very fond of Elinor and her husband, but they think Weill’s the lowest of the low. He married their mother two years after their father’s death—when they were thirteen and eleven. A difficult age to acquire a stepfather. According to both of them, their worst fears proved true. He turned out to be a thief and a runaround.”
    “Kids have good antennas about people.” Lydia remembered the creepy-crawly sensation she’d felt when she’d shaken hands with Weill at Bingo. Of course, she might have picked up negative vibes because, on a visceral level, she knew immediately who he was. “It sounds like he cheated on Claire all through their marriage. Do you think he married her for her money?”
    “Could be he assumed she had more money at her disposal and only found out about the trusts after the marriage. Harry Kleinfeld was a successful businessman, considerably older than