a run at getting another subpoena later. What did you find out about the wife?â
Smitty sat down at his desk. âSome, but not a lot. No kids and no close family. Only marriage for both. Sheâs a lawyer with Harkin & Fenner, works in tax litigation, high-Âpriced clients. Nobody in her office had much to say about her. Professional, always polite, good at her job, that kinda stuff.â
âHow long has she been there?â
âFive years. One odd thing though. I didnât get to talk to everyone but it doesnât seem she socialized with her coworkers. She didnât do the office Christmas party or the summer cookout. Ate lunch alone in her office. Apparently, the lady is business-Âfriendly, but, and I quote, âsnotty.â â
âSnotty?â
âYeah, as in stuck-Âup.â
âAnyone ever met Dr. Michael?â
âNope.â
Cancini leaned back, eyes on his partnerâs face. He thought briefly of the woman whoâd sat before him only hours earlier. The description didnât seem all that far off. Smart and classy but no kids and no close friends. Other than her husband, the woman liked to be alone. This last part, at least, he understood. âOkay. Where was she before Harkin & Fenner?â
âBoston. Thatâs where theyâre from. She stayed even after her husband had set up practice here. According to the personnel lady at the firm, she moved to Washington because Dr. Michael was complaining about the weekend commuting.â
The pain at the base of his neck radiated up the back of his head. âHow long had the Michaels been married?â
âAbout fifteen years.â
âAnd they never had kids? No other family?â
âJust the dead brother for her. Dr. Michaelâs folks died when he was in his twenties. No siblings.â
âOdd,â he said. It appeared both their family trees were dying out. Was no children a conscious choice? He ran his hand over his short hair. If it was, he wondered if it was significant. âInteresting.â
âWhatâs interesting?â Smitty asked.
Cancini reached in his drawer for a bottle of aspirin. âIâm wondering why Mrs. Michael had to be convinced to move to the same town to be with her husband. I want to know why Mrs. Watson made it out as though Mr. and Mrs. Michael were lovebirds, him always so anxious to get home to her.â He swallowed two pills with cold coffee. âThereâs something about this relationship I find curious. I need to know more.â
âIâll see what I can find out. I have a friend in Boston.â
âAnything he can get. Work history, friends, neighbors.â He tapped on the desk. âCould be a reason, a local reason, she wasnât in any hurry to move closer to dear old hubby.â
Smitty arched one eyebrow. âYou think she had a little something on the side?â
âI have no idea.â Cancini shrugged. âSheâs attractive, smart, has money. No kids to weigh her down. Couldâve been one of those modern marriages.â In his mind, he pictured her again. âYou never know.â
âI guess. Sheâs still a looker, thatâs for sure.â
âStill? Are you implying sheâs old?â
Smittyâs face flushed. âNo. Thatâs not what I meant, but sheâs older than me. Thatâs all.â
âSoâs most of the population.â Standing, the detective picked up his notebook and slipped it in his jacket pocket. âIâm going to track down some of these names and check out some alibis.â
âSure. Iâll call my buddy in Boston now. Might take another run at Mrs. Watson, too,â Smitty said. He started to pick up the phone, then turned back to Cancini. âBy the way, did you get the report from the print guys?â
Cancini picked through the files on his desk and tossed a manila folder to his partner. âThe knife
Jackie Chanel, Madison Taylor