Dearly Departed by Hy Conrad Page A

Customers are content. Paris is gorgeous, all the soft green shoots and buds. I forgot how everything blooms a little earlier here.” She did indeed sound happy, which annoyed Marcus to no end. “All in all, I’m glad I came.”
    â€œAll in all? What’s wrong?”
    â€œIs Peter being a douche?” asked Fanny. “Did he try to make you share a hotel room?”
    â€œNo, no,” came Amy’s voice with a laugh. There was the sound of people in the background, like in a café or a lobby. “Peter’s fine. But you know. There’s always someone making trouble.”
    â€œIs it Peter?” asked Fanny.
    â€œNo, no. It’s this couple from Maui. I tell you, if there’s a murder on this trip, it’s going to be him killing his wife.”
    â€œWhat?” They said the word in unison.
    â€œI’m joking,” said Amy. “He’s a man with some anger issues. Nothing dramatic.”
    â€œAnger directed against his wife?” Fanny raised a pencil-lined eyebrow.
    â€œIs she afraid of him?” asked Marcus.
    â€œGood question,” Fanny agreed. “Has she maybe been afraid of him for a while now?”
    â€œWhat?” Amy was taken aback by the sudden, somber-sounding barrage. “She might be a little afraid of him. Why?”
    â€œWhen did Paisley MacGregor work for them?” Marcus asked. “Recently?”
    â€œGood question,” Fanny agreed again. “The envelope doesn’t look old.”
    â€œIt’s the Steinbergs.” The good humor drained out of Amy’s voice. “They employed Paisley right before Peter did, maybe two years ago. Why?”
    Silence filled the home office as Marcus and Fanny played sign language back and forth.
    â€œHello, Mom?”
    Marcus wanted to tell her. Fanny wasn’t so sure. “She has a right to know,” Marcus signed.
    â€œAre you guys there?”
    â€œShe’s going to overreact,” Fanny warned as she used the universal hand signal for crazy .
    â€œHey, what’s going on?”
    Her mother sighed and looked resigned. “Amy, dear,” she said directly into the speaker, “are you sitting down?”
    â€œDon’t ask if she’s sitting down,” Marcus blurted out. “That makes it worse.”
    â€œI’m at the bar in a crowded bistro, standing up.”
    â€œWell, find a bar stool and sit down.”
    â€œThe only reason I would need to sit down is if you two were really having an affair.”
    â€œHave it your way,” said Fanny and turned to face Marcus. “You tell her, lover boy.”

CHAPTER 7
    A my did not sit down. Instead, she took her phone out onto rue du Vertbois, away from the noise of the bistro. The air was chilly, and the narrow cobbled street glistened from what must have been a passing shower not long before.
    It was well after midnight on what had already been a long day—until now a long, satisfying day. She listened more than spoke, first to Marcus, then to Fanny, then to Marcus. What they told her was both far-fetched and made a horrible kind of sense. MacGregor had always been a receptacle for her people’s secrets. And now, even in death, she was holding onto one final one. With her free hand, Amy pulled her pashmina around her shoulders, imagining it as a blanket and wanting nothing more than to be snugly asleep in bed.
    Back inside the bistro, behind the red checkered curtains, a few stalwarts continued to drink and laugh and trade more Paisley MacGregor stories. Peter Borg listened with mixed feelings. There was no doubt that his maid had been a colorful character. And the stories were great. But he wondered, quite seriously, why he wasn’t as fond of colorful characters as other people were. Did this mean that he lacked the joie de vivre necessary to enjoy them? Or did it mean, as he preferred to think, that colorful characters were best enjoyed from a distance,