Going Out in Style Read Free

T.”
    Snooky was still staring out the window, his thoughts elsewhere. “Tabard. Come on, Maya, you should know that. T-A-B-A-R-D.”
    “I hate this,” said Bernard.
    “It’s a gift, Bernard,” said his wife. “Fourteen down. Neat and tidy, five letters, blank A blank T blank.”
    “Natty,” Snooky said dreamily. Bernard pushed his chair back with a loud squeak and left the room.
    “Oh, don’t go, Bernard,” called Maya. “We’ll stop if you want. Oh, well. Let’s see here. How about an ancient Etrurian city, four letters?”
    A little while later Snooky finished up his meal and went to the kitchen phone. He dialed rapidly. “Hello, this is Snooky Randolph calling. Is Bella there, please?”
    Maya, still seated at the table, could hear the sound of a woman’s high-pitched voice on the phone.
    “I’m a friend of hers,” Snooky said. “I was supposed to meet her in the city last night. Why? What’s wrong?”
    There was a pause. Snooky slumped suddenly against the doorjamb.
    “I see … yes … yes … I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry. Yes. I’ll … I’ll call again.”
    He hung up and turned to Maya, who was horrified to see his eyes filling with tears. His face was even paler than usual. He looked like a small animal that had just been hit.
    “She’s dead, Maya—dead!
Murdered on her way out the door!
”
    She went up to him and put her arms around him.
    “I’m sorry, Snookers,” she said. “I’m so sorry!”
    Two elderly women stood talking in the kitchen of the Whitaker mansion, a large Georgian redbrick house with white pillars.
    “
Murdered
,” said the first one. She was tall and thin with a wizened little face. She spoke with a certain melancholy satisfaction. “Murdered, here, in this very house. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
    “Shut up, MacGregor,” said her companion, withoutheat. She was a short squat woman who formed what appeared to be a perfect cube: all hard angles and edges. She had white hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was drying the dishes as MacGregor was washing them.
    MacGregor apparently did not have the slightest intention of shutting up. “Strangled,” she went on with relish. “Who would’ve believed it?”
    “Shut
up
, I’m telling you, MacGregor.”
    “Police everywhere, swarming all over the house like—like insects. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
    “MacGregor, I’m telling you to shut up. Do you hear me? Don’t you go shooting your mouth off to the police, either. You’re just hoping for a chance to talk to them, even though you don’t know a thing about it, aren’t you? Now, close that rattling mouth of yours and go ahead with what you’re supposed to be doing, which is the dishes. And for heaven’s sake, stop splashing that water everywhere, you’re getting me wet. And no more talk about my poor niece Bella. It’s none of your business, you understand?”
    “Yes, Miss Pinsky,” MacGregor responded meekly. “Whoops! Watch that water!”
    Detective Paul Janovy looked around him with a dissatisfied air. He was standing in the luxuriously furnished living room of the Whitaker mansion. Janovy was a tall, fair-haired man with a broad, rather coarse face and a normally cheerful disposition. At the present moment, however, he was unhappy. One of Ridgewood’s leading citizens had been murdered and so far he had not the slightest clue as to who had done it.
    He said, “Fish?”
    His subordinate, Detective Martin Fish, materialized at his side. Janovy’s eyes dwelt on him with approval.Martin Fish was an excellent second-in-command, a careful and reliable detective who happened to have been cursed with a marked resemblance to his own name. He was tall and thin, with a long sad face, large bulging eyes and a round mouth habitually pursed in thought. He looked, thought Janovy with affection, exactly like a flounder. When he was thinking hard he would open and close his mouth as if flapping his vestigial