The Happy Birthday Murder by Lee Harris Page B

liquor that hadn’t been used and a bunch of gifts from people who just couldn’t come to a birthday party without one. Then we drove home.”
    “Did you empty the things in the car?”
    She thought for a moment. “No, I think we didn’t. We were really very tired by then. It had been an exhausting day. Larry opened the trunk and took out some of the presents, but he didn’t feel like hoisting the cartons of bottles. So we left them there.”
    “Were they there when his body was found?”
    “I think they were. You can understand they weren’t the first thing on my mind.”
    “Of course. And then what?”
    “We went in, we set the security alarm as we always did, and I think we just went upstairs. No, maybe Larry stopped at the refrigerator for a glass of something cold.”
    “Check the answering machine?” I asked.
    “I doubt it. Everyone I knew in the world had been at that party. Anyway, in the kitchen we would have heard it beeping if there’d been a message.”
    “So you went upstairs.”
    “We didn’t go to sleep right away. As tired as we were, we were very excited. We had seen people we hadn’t seen in years. A friend had flown in from Tokyo for the occasion and there were other people who came from great distances. We got ready for bed and sat in our little sitting room for a while, just talking, rehashing. I was so happy, Chris. It had been such a wonderful evening. It wasn’t the champagne that had made me high; it was the happy memories.”
    “And your husband?”
    “Exactly the same. Larry acted as though it had been a surprise. He hadn’t known who was on the guest list, except for the obvious people, and he talked about how some old friends looked, what they were doing. He told me…” She faltered for the first time and I sat and waited. “He told me how much he loved me.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “But there was nothing of a farewell in what he said. He was looking forward. He said maybe we would return the favor and take a trip to Tokyo to visit our friends there. I think he was just as happy and excited as I was.” She looked away and I could imagine that she was remembering the last happy moments of their life together.
    “I’m sorry this is so painful,” I said. “Perhaps—”
    “No, we have to do this. Let’s see. It must have been at least two-thirty when we went to bed, maybe even as late as three. I had no alarms set. We agreed to sleep in. We turned the lights off and that was it. The night of the happy birthday party was over.”
    What she had told me sounded very ordinary, just what I would expect after a party like the one she had described.It was the next step that I thought would be telling. “Do you think you can go on?” I asked.
    She nodded. “I don’t really know what time it was, but it wasn’t light yet, so it might have been four or five and it couldn’t have been much after six. The nights were getting longer, and I know it was dark. The phone rang. The sound worked itself into whatever I was dreaming, so I didn’t react to the first ring, and obviously Larry didn’t, either. But when I realized someone was calling in the middle of the night, I awoke in fear. Larry’s mother was not young and she had come to the party. She had left early and gone home, but what if she had become ill? I heard Larry answer the phone, but he didn’t say much, just syllables and grunts. When he hung up, he said something like ‘a problem at the plant.’ He had to go.
    “I remember saying, ‘Let someone else go, honey. You need your sleep.’ But he was already out of bed and getting dressed. He said I should go to sleep and he would see me in the morning.”
    “Did your husband own a gun, Laura?”
    She took her time answering. “He did. It was licensed and all that, perfectly legal. He had owned it for many years, but as far as I know, he had never used it.”
    “Do you know where he kept it?”
    “No. I wasn’t happy when he brought it home and I