Inherit the Dead Read Free Page A

fragile as she was.
    “That portrait, the one above your—”
    “My father,” she said.
    “An impressive-looking man.”
    “Yes. He died some years ago, along with my mother, in a tragic accident.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. I hate it when people apologize for things that have nothing to do with them.”
    “I wasn’t taking responsibility, merely expressing—”
    She waved his explanation away. “I don’t have time for niceties, Detective. I’m not a well woman.”
    “So you said.”
    “Did I?”
    “Yes. But you look . . . fine.”
    “I look like death and know it.” She made a noise in the back of her nose. “You should have seen me when I was young. I was beautiful once. Can you believe that?”
    “You’re still a beautiful woman,” he said, and it was true, though the beauty had ossified.
    “And you’re a liar, but a charming one. Though you must always be truthful with me.”
    “I usually am.”
    “Except when you are flattering an older woman or trying to save someone the pain of bad news?”
    “A little of both,” said Perry.
    “Well, don’t ever lie to me . Not ever . I have been lied to enough in my life, and I won’t tolerate it.” Her gray eyes had gone cold and steely, her mouth set tight. Perry noticed her hands had balled into fists, as if getting ready to strike.
    “I don’t care much for lies or liars myself.
    “Good,” she said, the harsh glint of metal in her eyes giving way to something a bit less threatening, though Perry hadn’t missed it. “Then we understand each other.”
    “Indeed.” Perry nodded, though he allowed his stare to mimic just a bit of her rigidity before changing the subject. “So, your daughter. She disappeared from where, exactly?”
    “From her father’s Montauk home. According to Norman, he has not seen her for almost two weeks.” Julia Drusilla was now up and pacing.
    “I’ll need the exact time of her disappearance.”
    “You can get that from Norman. I imagine you will want to speak to him.”
    “Yes. And your husband didn’t call the police, didn’t report your daughter missing?”
    “No. He called me . Which was the right thing to do.” Her voice took on strength.
    “Tell me more about your daughter. Anything that will help me find her.” Perry plucked a pad and pen from his pocket.
    “Well, Angelina, Angel, has been living with her father, my ex-husband, since our divorce.”
    “Your husband got custody?” Perry tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. A father getting custody was a big deal; he knew that from experience.
    “Not exactly. We determined together—my husband and I—what was better for Angel. Ours was not one of those acrimonious divorces. Angel’s happiness was all that mattered.” She ran one of her long fingers along the edge of her too-sharp jaw. “You’re not married, are you, Detective?”
    “No.”
    “Divorced?”
    “Yes.”
    “Children?”
    “I have a daughter,” he said, wondering how this had become an interview, one he was on the wrong side of. “She lives with her mother.”
    “Of course she does. Always the way, isn’t it? Well, almost always.” She stopped pacing and sagged into one of the low couches just opposite, as if the conversation was suddenly too much for her.
    Perry wondered if she was acting. Everything about her seemed theatrical.
    “How old was Angel when you and your husband divorced?”
    “Does that matter?”
    “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
    “Fourteen. She was such a headstrong girl at the time. Of course she always was, but particularly then. Perhaps the divorce was somewhat to blame: the strain and—”
    “I thought you said the divorce was amicable?”
    “But I did not say it was easy. And teenagers can be difficult.”
    Perry nodded, though he’d give anything to have his teenage daughter around twenty-four/seven, difficult or not.
    “We considered boarding school, and in retrospect I think it would have been a better choice for