“And in some cases, his substitute has ended up overbooked,” Jane picked up the story. “So he asked if I would take one of Martin’s cases. I should have gotten suspicious when the lady in question tried to cancel. I had to shame her into bringing her dog in, and when she did, I found myself examining a perfectly healthy animal who was booked for monthly appointments. And when I took a look at Martin’s notes, I found a whole lot of fancy language that boiled down to observation and administering the occasional supplement—dog vitamins. This is a nice animal—a purebred—but he’s not a show dog. There’s no need to be so obsessive about the dog’s health.”
“So either Martin was cheating this woman . . .” Sunny began.
“Or cheating
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Sunny asked.
“Because you have a dad who’s interested in local politics,” Jane told her. “State Representative Ralph Venables? This is his wife.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Sunny said. “It’s not messy enough, we have to add a political scandal.”
“Also, Tobe managed to track down the waitress you bumped into, and they’ve talked some more.”
“Tell him to skip the grilled cheese,” Sunny advised.
“He’s going to try and get a picture of Christine Venables and run it past this woman.” Jane sounded a lot less eager now. “I’d rather not use it—I know what it’s like to have a marriage blow up in my face. But it’s sort of an insurance policy if Trumbull really comes after me.”
“I’m glad it’s not a decision I’d have to make,” Sunny honestly said. “So, if you’ve been chatting with Tobe, any more news on his availability?”
“Unmarried,” Jane reported briefly. “He made partner because they wanted his skills.”
“Just be careful,” Sunny joked. “Lawyers are trained in persuasion.”
*
Sunny finished the day’s work and sat for a long moment in front of her computer, thinking. Then she called Helena Martinson. “Are you all set for milk and stuff?”
“You really shouldn’t bother,” Mrs. Martinson replied.
“I’m three stores away from a market,” Sunny pointed out. “How much of a bother is that?”
“Well, I suppose I could do with a quart of the one percent milk,” Mrs. M. said.
“Fine,” Sunny told her. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
She turned off her computer, got her parka, locked up the office, and headed over to Judson’s.
When she arrived at her neighbor’s house, Mrs. Martinson had coffee perking away. “I thought we might find a use for some of that milk,” she said with a smile. But when she took the sack, Sunny could see that she limped her way into the kitchen. And she had trouble negotiating the baby gate she had set up in the doorway, beyond which Toby the pup yipped in excitement to see a visitor in the house.
“Let me help with that.” Sunny hurried after her hostess.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mrs. Martinson insisted. “I’ve got a bruise on my knee, and it slows me down walking.”
“Well, you should take it easy while it heals properly,” Sunny told her, taking the tray with the cups, saucers, milk pitcher, and sugar bowl. “Let’s sit down and enjoy this properly.”
They settled in the living room with Toby whining after them.
“So what would you like to talk about, dear?” Mrs. M. asked with a guileless smile.
“Oh, you’re good,” Sunny said, laughing. She took a sip of coffee. “What can you tell me about the Venables family?”
“Well, obviously, Ralph Venables is a state representative. He’s married to Christine, and they have a daughter, Kristi, who’s a year or two out of college. She’d been working in Boston, but lost her job and is home now.” Helena frowned, trying to bring up details. “They’re fairly well off. Ralph came from money and was involved in a real estate business, but got out before the bottom fell out of that. As far as I know, he hasn’t invested in anything foolish. Ralph got reelected last November and is starting his second two-year term. Christine’s people came from farther north, respectable but not rich. She actually helped to set up the 99 Elmet Ladies and would have liked to be more involved. But it might look too much like politics.”
“And that’s what anybody who searched the newspapers would find,” Sunny said with a smile. “But what’s the dirt?”
“We-e-ell,” Mrs. Martinson drew out the word, “they have a beautiful house over in Piney Brook, but I hear Ralph has been spending most of his time up in Augusta.”
Sunny nodded. “You think that’s more than the press of government business?”
“He wasn’t so diligent in his first term.” Mrs. M. took a sip of her coffee. “He may be trying to earn some brownie points—what do the politicians call it? Carrying the can?” She pursed her lips. “But he hasn’t really been home in months. And when he does come down, he rarely stays overnight.”
“I bow to your years of experience,” Sunny told the older woman. “What does that say to you?”
