I SAT WITH BETH in her expensive off-white living room, which looked like it had been decorated by the pound. Beth was in a black dress that proclaimed her mourning and showed off her body.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
“You told the police about me,” she said.
“I did.”
“That was mean,” she said.
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “I’m your alibi. You would have told them you were with me, and I would have confirmed it, and the cops would have said, ‘How come you didn’t tell us about her?’ ”
“Why do I need an alibi?” she said.
“You’re the spouse of a murder victim.”
“And that automatically makes me a suspect?” she said.
“They have to eliminate you,” I said.
“I suppose,” she said.
“Any thoughts on who might have done it?”
“I should think the warning note I showed you would be a clue,” she said.
“Not much hard information,” I said. “Do you still have the envelope?”
“Envelope?”
“That it came in.”
“Oh, no,” Beth said. “I threw it away. There was no return address or anything.”
“Was it addressed in hand or typed or one of those little computer address stickers?”
“Hand,” she said.
“Remember where it was postmarked?”
“Boston, maybe,” she said. “I don’t know. I’m not used to threatening letters. I’m not a detective. I just threw the envelope away.”
“Sure,” I said. “Nice outfit you’re wearing.”
“Oh, this, well, it’s… I’m kind of in mourning. You think it’s okay?”
“Swell,” I said. “Are you his only heir?”
“There’s a couple of ex-wives,” she said. “No children. I’m the only one in the will.”
“Well,” I said. “There’s a plus.”
“It is a plus,” she said. “But there’s no need for you to be so snarky about it. My husband has just been murdered.”
“True,” I said.
“I mean, we had our problems, sure…”
“And now you don’t,” I said.
She was sitting on the ivory-colored couch. I was sitting on a straight-backed armchair across from her. She squared her shoulders and sat more upright.
“Do you suspect me?” she said.
“I remain open-minded,” I said.
“What a terrible thing to say. It’s disgusting that you could even think that.”
“Disgusting,” I said.
“Why do you even care?” she said. “Has someone hired you to work on this case?”
“No,” I said.
“Then why don’t you go off somewhere and be disgusting on someone else’s business.”
“I’ve been involved with this for a while,” I said. “It’s my line of work. I feel some obligation to see what I can do.”
“Well, don’t think you have any obligation to me,” Beth said. “I’d like it if I never saw you again.”
“You, too?” I said.