A Multitude of Sins by M. K. Wren

woman.”
    “I don’t know her, so I can’t judge your bitchiness. Tell me about the accident.”
    A thoughtful frown etched a line between her brows.
    “Well, it was two years after they were married; that would be five years ago now. They’d been in Portland for some political affair, and they were late coming back.”
    “Your father was driving?”
    “Yes. It was January, and there was ice on the highway. Dad said he just started skidding. I’m sure he wasn’t going too fast; he was always a very careful driver, but the car flipped over a guard rail and down into a ravine. When he came to, Catharine was still unconscious. He wrapped her in everything he could find to keep her warm, including his own coat, then he climbed up to the highway and waved down a car. And he did all that in spite of a broken arm.” She hesitated, then added wistfully, “Poor Dad.”
    “Why poor Dad?”
    “Oh, it’s just that he paid such a high price for that accident, and it wasn’t even his fault.”
    “What kind of price?”
    She regarded him with a sad, ironic smile.
    “Little pitchers have big ears, Conan, and when it came to Dad and Catharine, I was willing enough to sink to a little eavesdropping. About a week before the accident, I heard them arguing in—in that room.”
    “What room?” Her sudden uneasiness was close to fear.
    “The…library.”
    He let that pass, remembering that Steve Travers had said she discovered her father’s body in the library.
    “What were they arguing about?”
    “A divorce.” Her eyes narrowed, fear giving way to bitterness. “Dad wanted a divorce.”
    “But Catharine wasn’t agreeable?”
    “Of course not! Give up the money, the precious Canfield name, the role of Senator’s lady?”
    “Keep your voice down, Dore.”
    She took a deep breath and finally laughed.
    “I guess I won’t win any Oscars tonight.”
    “You’re doing fine. Was your father prepared to fight her on the divorce?”
    “Yes, but that was before the accident. That’s what I mean by the price he paid. After that, he just couldn’t go through with it. He felt responsible for her blindness. And she used it, Conan; she played on his pity and guilt. That’s how she held him.” Then she shook her head slowly. “But it doesn’t matter. Not now.”
    It didn’t matter because death had resolved the problem. Conan took a swallow of his drink, thinking that the investigation business fostered certain unpleasant mental attitudes. He was automatically suspicious of problems resolved by death—especially an unexpected and sudden death.
    “Do you know why your father wanted a divorce?”
    “Just incompatibility, I guess. He married her on the rebound from Mother’s death, really. He was so lonely, and the faithful secretary was there. Waiting.” Then she added: “I don’t think she gave him any other grounds.”
    “Are you playing the devil’s advocate?”
    “Maybe.” She gave a short laugh. “Or just honesty’s advocate. Conan, you said something about unfriendly moves in my direction. Do you think those men—”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to add that to your worries. If these two had any unfriendly intentions, they’ve taken their time about it, considering what an open target you are. Don’t look so alarmed. I’m trying to reassure you.”
    “It’s beginning to sound like the Mafia.”
    “I can almost guarantee it isn’t that. Of course, I can’t be sure of the intentions of the person—or persons—who hired these men. That’s why I want someone to keep an eye on you as well as them.”
    She sighed despondently. “Oh, you know, I can’t even work up much fear for my life, really. It’s so senseless .”
    “I doubt that. Dore, there’s something else I must ask you about, and I know it will be painful.”
    “What… what is it?”
    “You found your father’s body, didn’t you? Do you remember anything about that?”
    Her first response was a quick intake of breath, and even