Half-Price Homicide by Elaine Viets Page B

marrying Rob.
    “Shut up and tell me what you want, or I’ll slam down the phone,” she said.
    “There’s a serious failure in your logic,” Rob said. “How can I tell you what I want if I shut up?”
    “I’m counting to ten,” Helen said. “Then I’ll hang up if you don’t start talking. One …”
    “Don’t do that,” Rob said, his voice slippery with satisfaction. “What’s his name—the guy who wants my used goods?”
    “Phil,” Helen said. “My fiancé is Phil.”
    “Right. He will be very unhappy when the law hauls you away.” “Get to the point,” Helen said.
    “I want my money,” Rob said. His voice was flat and hungry. “The divorce judge awarded me half your income. You’ve disobeyed him. It’s hard to keep track of what you’ve actually made since our divorce, Helen, since you were paid with cash under the table. There’s one exception: your job at the country club. Based on your Superior Club salary, you earned eleven dollars an hour.”
    “That’s the most I ever made,” Helen said.
    “So you say,” Rob said. “But you can’t prove it. You don’t have any other payroll records.”
    “I only made about six hundred dollars every two weeks at the Superior Club. And that was after taxes.”
    “We’ve been divorced a little over two years,” Rob said. “By my calculations, you made thirty-one thousand, two hundred dollars. You owe me fifteen thousand, six hundred dollars. But I’m in a generous mood. I’ll only ask for an even fifteen thousand dollars to settle your past debt. And I won’t tell the IRS about your employers.”
    “I didn’t make enough money to pay taxes,” Helen said.
    “I understand, but the government gets crabby if they don’t hear from a potential taxpayer,” Rob said.
    “What if my mother needs money?” Helen asked.
    “She has a husband,” Rob said. “Larry is legally responsible for her bills. He can pay them.”
    “That skinflint will ship her off to someplace cheap and horrible the moment she costs him money. Mom has a long-term-care policy.”
    “A prudent move,” Rob said. “Dolores showed great forethought. No one wants to be kept alive beyond their time. Even if Larry puts her in a cheaper home, what difference will it make? She’ll never know. I mean no disrespect, but your mother is broccoli in a hospital bed.”
    “You bastard!” Helen said.
    “Let’s leave my mother out of it,” Rob said. “She’s dead.”
    Now his voice was harder than granite. “These are the facts, Helen. I’m entitled to half of your earnings. It was a court ruling, and you’ve run from it for more than two years. The law will not look kindly on that.
    “I’m sure your boyfriend will pay your old debt of fifteen thou. Once that is taken care of, you still owe me half your income, even if you remarry. It’s time I collected my little court-ordered annuity. I’ll expect that big check, then smaller ones each month.”
    “The Black Widow gave you a million dollars,” Helen said. “What happened to that?”
    “Lost it all. Bad investments,” Rob said cheerfully. Helen could almost hear him shrug. “I’m cold, stone broke. Do you know what a Belvedere martini costs these days? I can’t ask Marcella for more money. We had an agreement: a million bucks and she’d never hear from me again. And Marcella knows how to deal with people she doesn’t like.”
    “I should have shot you when I found you with Sandy,” Helen said. “I’d only have to serve eight years for murder.”
    “But you didn’t,” Rob said. “Like your mother, you’re too moral.”
    “You son of a bitch,” Helen said.
    “There you go, picking on my mother again,” Rob said. “Don’t even think of threatening me, Helen. Remember when you hit me? The charges were dropped, but that assault is on your record. If anything happens to me, you’ll be the first suspect.”
    “It was expunged!” Helen cried.
    “Not from the police officer’s memory,” Rob