Cold Turkey by Janice Bennett Page A

very kind of you. In the dining room. There’re some decanters on the sideboard. Bring snifters for you two, as well.”
    He nodded. “You keep an eye on her, Ms. McKinley.”
    He put enough edge in these last words so that even an idiot must know he meant something special by it. Luckily, Cindy Brody appeared too preoccupied to notice. I moved to the sofa so Cindy would have to turn away from the door to the dining room.
    I pinned a false smile on my face. “This is a lovely house, Cindy. Much nicer than just getting an apartment.”
    Cindy took the bait. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, but Cliff… Well, he never wanted to spend money for something like this. He said he preferred antique country charm.”
    “Drafty houses always falling apart,” I interpreted. Over Cindy’s shoulder, I glimpsed Sarkisian passing through the dining room and peering through another doorway beyond. He disappeared through it. I rushed into speech as a faint creak of hinges reached me. “I never understood how he could have so much money and never let you spend any of it.”
    Cindy’s eyes gleamed, she started to speak, then shut her mouth tight. After a moment, she mopped her dry eyes again. “Dear Cliff, he was certainly an original. It’s sad we developed different goals in life.”
    True. He liked to amass money, she liked to spend it.
    “We’ve gotten along much better since we separated,” Cindy went on. “Isn’t that odd? But I understand it happens a lot. We really cared about each other, you know. We just weren’t made to live together. You weren’t married long enough to reach that stage, I suppose.”
    Thanks for the reminder, I reflected, and chalked up one more reason to dislike Cindy Brody. With an effort, I forced my smile to remain firmly in place. “What will you do now? Stay here?”
    “Ummm.” Cindy’s gaze roamed around the living room. “Right here. I made sure I had an option to buy.”
    “I thought you weren’t expecting much in the divorce settlement!” I blurted out, then could have bitten my tongue.
    Cindy waved that aside. “Oh, you know how Cliff talked. All he really wanted was for me to forget about the divorce and go back to him. I always knew he’d come down handsomely in the end.”
    She was the only one who did, then, according to Aunt Gerda. And that certainly wasn’t the opinion Cindy’d been voicing all over Upper River Gulch. What was keeping Sarkisian? I searched for another topic to keep Cindy busy. “How long are your friends staying?”
    “Only a few days, but you know what company is like. You want everything to be perfect.”
    With relief, I saw Sarkisian reappear. He vanished again, but this time I heard the chink of crystal. “I suppose you’ve been baking pies and bread. Aunt Gerda always raves about your pies.” That the crusts were from the freezer department of a grocery store, that Cindy relied on sugar to try to cover up for canned ingredients, and that she had no imagination with the spices, but I didn’t mention that.
    Cindy looked over her shoulder. “Where… Ah, here he comes. Only two brandies, Sheriff?”
    “I’m on duty. And I’m driving.” He handed over the glasses. “Are you going to be all right, Ms. Brody? Would you like us to call anyone to come and stay with you?”
    Cindy took a sip of the rich amber liquid. “No. I’ll just keep myself busy. That’s always the best course, isn’t it, when you’ve suffered a tragedy? Do so many things you don’t have time to think until you’ve grown accustomed to the loss? That’s what I’ll do.” She rose gracefully to her feet and ran a hand over the impeccable smoothness of her hair. “I’ll be fine, really I will. Thank you so much for coming.”
    “Thanks and get out,” I murmured as we found ourselves on the other side of the front door a minute later. “I didn’t even get to taste my brandy. She could hardly wait to get rid of us, could she? What were you doing for so