Free The Goodbye Look by Ross MacDonald Page A

eyes. She turned on Rawlinson fiercely.
    “Why don’t you tell him the truth then? You know yougave that revolver to your daughter, and you know the exact date.”
    “Be quiet.”
    “I will not. You’re playing tricks with yourself and I won’t let you. You’re a smart man but you don’t have enough to occupy your mind.”
    Rawlinson showed no anger. He seemed to be pleased by her almost wifely concern. And his holding back about the gun had been just a game, apparently.
    Mrs. Shepherd was the worried one. “Who got shot?”
    “A part-time detective named Sidney Harrow.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know who that would be. Drink up your tea while it’s hot. Can I get you a piece of fruitcake, Mr. Archer? There’s some left over from Christmas.”
    “No thanks.”
    “I’ll have some,” Rawlinson said. “With a scoop of ice cream.”
    “We’re out of ice cream.”
    “We seem to be out of everything.”
    “No, there’s enough to eat. But money only stretches so far.”
    She left the room again. With her warmth and energy subtracted, the room changed. Rawlinson looked around it a little uneasily, as if he was feeling the cold weight of his bones.
    “I’m sorry she saw fit to sic you onto my daughter. And I hope you won’t go dashing off in her direction now. There’d be no point in it.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s true I gave Louise the gun in 1945. But it was stolen from her house some years later, in 1954, to be exact.” He recited the dates as if he was proud of his memory. “This is not an
ad hoc
story.”
    “Who stole the gun?”
    “How should we know? My daughter’s house was burglarized.”
    “Why did you give her the gun in the first place?”
    “It’s an old story and a sad one,” he said. “My daughter’s husband abandoned her and left her stranded with Jean.”
    “Jean?”
    “My granddaughter Jean. The two helpless females were left alone in the house. Louise wanted the gun for protection.” He grinned suddenly. “I think Louise may have been hoping that he would come back.”
    “That who would come back?”
    “Her husband. My egregious son-in-law Eldon Swain. If Eldon had come back, I have no doubt she’d have shot him. With my blessing.”
    “What did you have against your son-in-law?”
    He laughed abruptly. “That’s an excellent question. But with your permission I don’t think I’ll answer it.”
    Mrs. Shepherd brought us two narrow wedges of cake. She noticed that I wolfed mine.
    “You’re hungry. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
    “Don’t bother. I’m on my way to dinner.”
    “It wouldn’t be any bother.”
    Her divided attention made Rawlinson uncomfortable. He said with the air of a comedian: “Mr. Archer wants to know what Eldon Swain did to me. Shall I tell him?”
    “No. You’re talking too much, Mr. Rawlinson.”
    “Eldon’s defalcations are common knowledge.”
    “Not any more they’re not. I say let it lie. We could all be a lot worse off than we are. I told Shepherd the same thing. When you talk about old trouble sometimes you can talk it back to life.”
    He reacted with jealous irritation. “I thought your husband was living in San Diego.”
    “Randy Shepherd isn’t my husband. He’s my ex.”
    “Have you been seeing
him?
”
    She shrugged. “I can’t help it when he comes back for a visit. I do my best to discourage him.”
    “So that’s where the ice cream and coffee have been going!”
    “It isn’t so. I never give Shepherd a morsel of your food or a cent of your money.”
    “You’re a liar.”
    “Don’t call me that, Mr. Rawlinson. There are things I won’t put up with, even from you.”
    Rawlinson looked quite happy again. He had the woman’s attention, and all her heat, focused on him.
    I stood up. “I’ve got to be going.”
    Neither of them offered any argument. Mrs. Shepherd accompanied me to the front door. “I hope you got what you came for.”
    “Part of it, anyway. Do you know where his daughter