Free Imperfect Contract by Gregg E. Brickman

ignored my contribution to the conversation and proceeded to touch his fourth finger.  "Hutchinson had a long-term girlfriend."  He touched index finger to thumb.  "Amelia asked Barry for a divorce.  Everyone in the strip mall knew it.  Heard them fighting over it."
    "She said she changed her mind.  They were sleeping together again, and they were trying to reconcile."
    "That's not the way the girlfriend tells it.  She says he was going to leave her as soon as he worked out the details of keeping the business and finding something for her to do.  He was trying to make a deal with Michael Wiley to hire her.  The problem is, the girlfriend said, Amelia is not a good real estate agent—talks too much and doesn't make a lot of sales.  Wiley wasn't interested in hiring her."
    "Did you check with Wiley?"
    "Not yet.  I pulled it together yesterday and today.  Wiley hasn't called us back yet, but we'll talk to him."
    "I'll bet you will."  I looked at Ray.  "Do you think she had her husband killed because he was ditching her for another woman, leaving her destitute in the process?"
    "Something like that."
    "Any life insurance?"
    "Yes as a matter of fact, a hundred big ones."
    "No kidding.  Amelia was the beneficiary?"
    "Amelia gets seventy-five, and the kid gets the rest.  She also gets the business, the house, and the cars.  She'd be much better off with him dead.  With no mortgage on the house, she was set for retirement.  If he left her, she'd have next to nothing."
    "Shit."
    "Motive."  He smiled.  It was annoying.  I hated it when he was right.
    "Do you want me to pursue anything in particular when I go to the realty office on Thursday?" 
    "Let's get dinner and talk about it.  I'll bring you up to date on the progress in the case overall."  He waved his arm in the direction of his car, which he had parked two spaces from mine.
    The last couple of days were draining.  I wanted to go home, collect my thoughts, make a few notes on the subject, and sleep until next Tuesday.  "Ray," I said, "I'd like to."  I stopped.  "No.  I wouldn't like to.  I want to go home."
    "We need to talk."
    "I'll meet you for breakfast."
    "Can't, I've gotta be in court."  He opened his mouth, closed it, exhaled, and said, "Thursday for breakfast?"
    "Works for me.  I have an appointment with the realtor at eleven.  You'll have plenty of time to prepare me for the occasion."
    Ray opened the door to my Mini and stood back as I climbed in.  "Sophi," he said through the open window, "the best thing would be for you to stay out of it.  But I know you, so can we lighten up and just exchange some info?"
    "Sure," I said without conviction.
    "What's the problem?"
    "I don't know.  Old baggage, I guess.  Old questions."
    "Maybe we need to talk about them—clear the air."  He sounded sincere.
    "We'll see.  You didn't want to tell me then." 
    "You didn't ask."
    I looked away and started the engine.  As I was backing out, I stuck my head out the window.  "See you Thursday morning.  Denny's near me okay?"
    "Fine."  I noticed his cheeks were tugging at the edges of his beard.  He was pissed.  That's his problem, I thought.

 
     
     
    11
     
     
    On Wednesday morning, Vanessa was responsible for Hutchinson's vent care.  I tried to keep a close eye on her.  She had to work with someone she detested, and I wanted to make sure my patient received the best care. 
    She was attentive to his needs, spending extra time in the room.  She cleaned his tracheostomy tube, drained the water from the vent hoses, and checked the settings, making entries in the computer as she worked.
    Amelia sat in the armchair watching everything Vanessa did, but there was no conversation.  I didn't see Vanessa look at Amelia even once.
    Around ten, Vanessa and I took a late breakfast, before the cafeteria closed to prepare for the next session.  I'd gotten three calls from the intensive care unit.  They had several patients for us.  It was typical