Free The Widow's Mate by Ralph McInerny Page A

had also mentioned that Horvath, like half the men who knew her, had a crush on his wife. Surely a detective would have remembered that encounter when Mrs. Flanagan reported her husband missing.
    â€œWhat would the police think?”
    â€œThat the two of you did meet in California. Years passed, and there was a falling-out…”
    â€œI married another man.”
    Tuttle opened his notebook and waited, pencil poised.
    â€œGregory Packer. He may have had something to do with what happened to Wally.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œBecause he seems to be courting Melissa Flanagan now.”
    Tuttle’s hand went out to the tweed hat that was on the banquette beside him. She could see that the money she had given him was still inside. Would he put it on? He seemed to decide against this. He turned to a fresh page in his notebook. “I want to have as detailed a record as you can give me of your years in California.”
    She should have been prepared for this, but it unnerved her to have him scribbling away while she reconstructed her California years—San Diego first, meeting Greg, their marriage.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œHe hit me.”
    Tuttle frowned.
    â€œI realized that all along he was after my money.”
    â€œWhat money is that?”
    She told him about her portfolio and the way it had increased under Wally’s tutelage. “It was to be our nest egg.”
    â€œWho knew of that?”
    â€œNo one.”
    â€œBut you told your husband.”
    â€œI don’t know how he could have, but I came to believe he already knew.”
    â€œHow could he have found out?”
    â€œI don’t know. Have I mentioned that he had known Wally when they were kids?”
    â€œHe did?”
    â€œThey went to the same school.”
    â€œDePaul?”
    â€œThe same grade school, their parish school.”
    â€œSt. Hilary’s.”
    â€œYes.”
    Tuttle sat back and looked at her. “You wanted to know what the police would think? You have to understand their mentality. They are going to wonder if maybe you and your husband didn’t decide to get more money out of Wally Flanagan.”
    â€œHe had disappeared!”
    â€œThey’ll wonder if he really did.”
    â€œOh, for heaven’s sake.”
    This was no way to enjoy a meal. Eventually the waiter took away their scarcely touched entrées. Sandy asked for a manhattan.
    â€œAnother beer,” Tuttle said to the waiter’s inquiry.
    They fell silent while they waited. When the drinks came, Tuttle looked at the bottle of beer and shook his head. “I could buy a six-pack for what that is costing you.”
    She smiled. “I can afford it.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œLook, Mr. Tuttle, you are making your job seem to be investigating me. I am hiring you to find out where Wally was all those years.”
    â€œAnd you think your former husband knew?”
    â€œI think he found out.”
    â€œAnd killed Wally?”
    It was a terrible thing to accuse someone of, but yes, she did think that.
    After a time, they withdrew to the lounge. Tuttle went over the chronicle he was constructing of her years in California: San Diego, then Oxnard, where she resumed her maiden name.
    â€œHe might have located you.”
    â€œI doubt that he even tried. He found someone else.”
    It seemed a useless exercise, but other memories came, filling in the chronology he was creating. None of it seemed to have the least importance, apart from her ill-considered marriage to Gregory Packer.
    â€œDon’t get me wrong,” he cautioned her, “but I’ll have to verify all this. It will be your protection if the police get interested.”
    She did not object, because guilt had been her companion from the time she and Wally had decided to go off together. He had assured her that he would leave his wife amply provided for, but that didn’t lessen the awfulness of