Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 21

She plunked herself down on the chair facing the back suet feeder and looked over at the waist-height maple wine rack which stood against the center island of the kitchen. "I prefer red," she called out.

"Red it is," I agreed without censure, drawing out a bottle of Velvet Devil merlot. It was a screw-cap, so it was only a moment before I had the glass in front of her. She drank half of it down in one draw.

I moved to the fridge and pulled out a Tupperware of cheddar I'd sliced into squares, and laid them out on a plate with some Triscuits. I placed the snack at the center of the green tablecloth, settling myself to her right where my mug of Chanakara tea waited, steaming.

She ignored the food offering. "So, what'd'ya wanna know?"

"Tell me about your sister."

She made a swirling motion in the air with her hand. "Eileen the perfect. Tall. Elegant. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Every guy within fifty miles wanted to have sex with her." She gave a chortle. "In all the movies she'd be the other woman, the reason the guy drowned his ugly wife. It figures she somehow took the martyrdom glory and the starring role for herself."

"The glory?" I asked, baffled.

She leant forward. "Oh, sure," she insisted. "The papers were talking about it for months! How did she drown? Was it one of those four guys? What could the motive be? What kind of a brilliant actress had the world lost?" She rolled her eyes, and it was as if a petulant thirteen-year-old had been trapped inside the sagging body of a middle-aged woman. "She would have absolutely loved it."

"What did you think the motive was?"

She downed the rest of her wine and her eyes went meaningfully to the empty glass. I stood, brought back the bottle, and put it on the table beside the plate of cheese. She filled her glass to the very brim; I was impressed how the surface tension kept the liquid from rolling over the lip onto the table.

Another mouthful and she was talking again. "Oh, I'm sure it was simply her stupidity. My sister thought she was perfect. She never had even the slightest inkling that she could fail." Cheryl scowled. "And of course, she wouldn't. If she did something wrong in Algebra class, she would just smile and wink at Mr. McGuthers. He would give her extra tutoring after class and pass her. If she got caught speeding down 146, a wink and a flash of her cleavage would get her off with a warning." Her look soured. "I got caught in that exact same spot and the ticket was tossed at me without a second glance."

I took a sip of my tea, sliding my fingers along the smooth burgundy ceramic handle. "But surely one of the boys could have done it?"

She took another gulp of the wine, pondering the thought for a moment. "Maybe Richard or Sam," she stated at last, "But certainly not Charles. I've never seen a bigger coward." She gave a snorting laugh. "I saw him at the Publick House a few days after he was fired from OmniBank for his inappropriate loans to the senator. You should have seen him. He would have jumped if someone had tapped him on his shoulder." She scoffed. "And he calls himself a man."

"How about John?" I asked.

She looked at me as if I'd spoken in tongues. "John? John was her lap-dog. I'm surprised he didn't dress in matching outfits with her. He was beyond obsessed with her." She took another long drink of wine. "Calling every day on the phone, throwing pebbles at her window every night, it was beyond belief."

"How did your sister take it?"

She laughed out loud. "As my sister took everything in life. As her due. She was the queen, and John was her groveling subject. If she was ever surprised, it was because not every man collapsed like a puddle of quivering Jell-O when entering her presence."