A Killer's Kiss by William Lashner Page B

fat and fresh off the tree.” She cut a slice from the thick brown pie sitting next to the teapot on the coffee table. “Fresh pecans make all the difference. When I saw the doctor lying there, I just screamed and screamed, which was silly, since there was no one to hear it. But I couldn’t help myself.”
    “Of course you couldn’t.”
    “More freshly whipped cream?”
    “Yes, please. The pie is too rich without it.”
    “That’s the way I make it,” she said. “That’s the way my mother made it, and she taught me how. Right away I called thepolice. They came quick, but even so it was too horrible being in the house. I waited outside for them to come.”
    “I understand completely. Where was Julia?”
    “She was gone. They were arguing when I left. I had dinner plans. Norman buys me dinner every Sunday night. So I left them to their argument. It’s not like it was a startling event, the two of them going at it.”
    “What were they arguing about?”
    “Something personal to them. But, to be truthful, they didn’t need an excuse.”
    “Who was usually right?”
    “Now you’re going to get me in trouble. More tea?”
    “I’m fine, thank you.”
    “The doctor was…well, you know, being old friends, like you are.”
    “He was prickly, even in college,” I guessed.
    “That he was. He wrestled all through prep school and college, as I’m sure you know. He told me once that wrestling was the truest expression of his inner nature. All that twisting and violence, the domination by the man on top. And I don’t think he changed much over the years.”
    “What about Julia?”
    “The missus is a little more complicated. But she is a kind soul, a sweet woman who I took to right away. We have a special bond. It might not seem it, but she needs taking care of, and in her own way she lets me do just that. The poor missus didn’t understand what she was getting into when she married the doctor.”
    “What was she getting into, Gwen?”
    Gwen lifted up her teacup, took a sip. “It was a marriage, Mr. Taylor. And, if I can confide—”
    “Of course you can.”
    “Some loves die hard and some never die at all.”
    “Are you talking about Julia’s love for Dr. Denniston?”
    “No, dear, I’m not.”
    I turned my head to hide the emotions that must have flitted across my face. Was ours the old love that had never died in Julia? Of course it was, and it was indescribably sweet to hear how she had described it to someone else. And if I were to be true to myself, I had to admit that our love held the very same place in my heart. So maybe my foolish hopes from the night before had not been so foolish after all. Suddenly, in the midst of the current darkness, there seemed to be something bright over the horizon, if I could only steer us past the shoals. I looked around at the richness of the furnishings, the sturdy bones of the manse, the housekeeper who seemed to come along with the deed. Julia, my darling Julia.
    “Where’s Julia now?” I said with complete disingenuousness.
    “She’s still being held by the police. But we expect her back home tomorrow.”
    “We?”
    “I and her lawyer. Clarence Swift.” She sniffed a bit, as if at a peculiar smell. “Do you want to see where it happened?”
    “I don’t know. Do I?”
    “He was your friend. You should see it, as a memorial, don’t you think? Maybe leave a token like they do at those street-corner shrines whenever a child gets shot in the city.”
    “Could I finish up my pie first?”
    “Of course, dear. Do you have enough whipped cream with that?”
    After putting down my fork and smacking my lips—I hadn’t been lying, about the pecan pie at least—I followed Gwen out of the living room into the wide central hall. Toward the rear of the house, there was a pair of closed double doors on the other side of the hallway and a piece of yellow tape wrapped around the door handles.
    “The police told me not to go into this room,” she