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I WATCHED THE OFFICE while Barbara went to Lawton, which I do anytime my sisters need me to. Barbara was very frosty toward me, and I sensed she was even miffed at Faye for taking my side. When she gets like that I just go on like there’s nothing wrong. Sooner or later she accepts it’s a waste of effort to be angry with someone who refuses to notice. When she got home from Lawton she still wasn’t chummy, but I offered to stay until closing so she could have some time to herself. With a sarcastic remark about needing a while to “de-stress” before she went to Rory’s for dinner, she went up to her apartment, trailing martyrdom behind her like a B-movie queen drags her feather boa. Not that Barbara would ever be seen wearing feathers.
I did some shopping at my favorite websites and found a new purse and matching shoes as Christmas gifts from Styx to me. When the phone rang around four I answered, “Smart Detective Agency,” (though I hate that name, I was being good) and identified myself.
A deep voice said, “This is Martin Deline. I was hoping to speak to Ms. Evans.”
“She isn’t available.” I could have called her, but it was my time to be in charge. “I’m Retta Stilson, her associate. Can I help?”
Deline seemed momentarily discombobulated. “I, um, spoke with Ms. Evans about undertaking the task of locating an individual who might be able to provide information concerning my brother’s death. I understand from Frances Habedank that your agency has agreed to proceed with that enterprise.”
“Yes.” Not without turmoil, but we were on the case.
“I thought I should, um, clarify some things.”
“Which things?”
“Frances and I met recently, and to be honest, I’m not certain how it came about that we joined forces. One minute I was at the funeral home, making arrangements for my brother’s interment once the police are finished with the, uh, with him. I invited Frances to come along in that endeavor, since she was his, um, intended wife. As we traveled back to my hotel together in her car, I remember agreeing that every avenue should be investigated, and the next thing I knew we were sitting in your offices, making arrangements to begin an investigation. I’m well aware the police may not approve of supplementary inquiries alongside an existing exercise.”
After that computed I said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Deline. We have connections to the police here in Allport, and they’ll be informed and aware of our actions.”
“That’s reassuring.” He seemed to consider carefully before making his next statement. “I’ve observed that Frances can be...assertive in pursuit of her goals, and to be frank, she’s difficult to resist when convinced she’s correct. The chief of police contends that this grammar...person is not a suspect and in all likelihood has nothing productive to contribute to the investigation.”
That was the opening I needed. “He’s probably right.”
“It is possible, I fear, that Frances is struggling with the attempt to derive some sort of sense in light of this horrible crime. Because this person was present at the scene, she decided he must be the miscreant.” As I wondered if the man always spoke like he’d swallowed the Oxford English Dictionary, he added, “For my part, I simply want to know the truth about my brother’s death.”
“Are you saying you don’t want us to take this case?” If I could get him to call off this search for the Grammar Nazi, Barbara’s problem would shrink, possibly disappear completely.
That hope died when he said, “I believe it makes sense to search out this vigilante and determine exactly what he observed that night.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, Mr. Deline. Now while I have you on the phone may I ask a few questions?”
“Certainly.”
“Did your brother have enemies you’re aware of?”
He hesitated. “It is clear you’re not investigating Steve’s death, correct? Your sister explained to us that would be improper.”
“Your wishes are completely clear.”
“That’s good. I’m at times accused of being obtuse, but that is not my intention. My life these days centers on classic texts of philosophy and faith. I’m afraid my speech is sometime affected by my studies.”
“I don’t find you difficult to understand at all, Mr. Deline.” I lied, but it was a polite fib. “Now, could you tell me a little about your brother? It will help us focus on our part of the investigation.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but sometimes if you say something in a confident voice, even if it’s gobbledygook, they go for it.
It worked. “To be honest, Steve and I weren’t that close.”
“Why is that?”
He hesitated and then said obliquely, “Brothers don’t always have the same goals in life.”
Deline was some sort of religious recluse, according to Barbara. Had his brother been the opposite of pious, a hedonist or a criminal? “You disapproved of your brother’s lifestyle?”
There was a long pause. “He was my brother.”
“Right.” I made a note on a slip of paper: Find old friend. Martin Deline wasn’t willing to be specific about why he had no respect for his brother, but maybe someone from his home town would be more forthcoming about Steve’s faults.
