“A gerbil,” said Vena. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked shamefaced. “I never told anyone, except Glenn, of course. And Isobel. I don’t know why I told her. It came up in conversation once, and she was so easy to talk to, you know. There was something comforting about her, something kind and wonderful, that made you want to confide in her, and tell her all your secrets. She always said she should have been a pastor.” She smiled a wistful smile. “At least if she was a pastor, she would have been bound by the seal of confession. Now she was free to write about it in her book. Which will cause quite a stir once its secrets are revealed.”
“You don’t know if that will happen,” said Odelia. “Did you… Did you by any chance receive a blackmail letter, Vena?”
Vena shook her head.“No, I didn’t. Why, is the killer blackmailing people now?”
“I’m not sure,” said Odelia evasively.
“God. If the truth comes out, I’ll be ruined. Who’s going to trust me now? They’ll think I’m bound to kill their precious pets.”
Odelia squeezed the vet’s arm. “I trust you, Vena, and I’m sure a lot of people know what a great veterinarian you are and won’t abandon you either.”
“She should abandon her,” Dooley grumbled. “If I’d known she was in the habit of murdering her patients, I would never have agreed to be treated by her.”
“Whether you agree or not, Dooley, makes no difference at all,” I said somberly.
“That’s true,” said Dooley. We shared a look of dismay. It’s one thing to suspect that your vet is secretly a murderous butcher, but another to hear it from her own lips. As I saw it we’d had a lucky escape so far. We could have been that gerbil. We all could have been that gerbil!
“Poor Freddie,” said Dooley.
“Poor us,” I said.
“Could I see your shoes for a moment, Vena?” asked Odelia now.
“Sure,” said Vena, getting up. “What’s this about?”
“Oh, just a routine check,” said Odelia cheerfully.
“Better check her luggage for dead gerbils!” Dooley yelled as the two women disappeared into the next room. “Remember Freddie!”
CHAPTER 33
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Perlita felt utterly embarrassed as she watched Detective Kingsley go through her collection of shoes.“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said. “For making such a spectacle of myself.”
“That’s all right, Mrs. Gruner,” said the detective as he picked up her pair of high heels and closely examined the heels. “What size would you say these are?”
Michele had given Perlita a new room and now she was officially separated from Nathan—at least for the duration of this retreat, which was already turning into a nightmare. She had no idea what she’d do once they were home again.
She felt betrayed, both by Izzy and her husband. But since she was also cheating on him, she could hardly blame him for what he’d done. They were in the same boat, after all. Already she’d called Izzy, to cancel the exhibition, and to tell her they were through, and Izzy had told her that Nathan had done the exact same thing, and said to find another agent.
The young artist had sounded miserable. Clearly this was the worst day of her life: she just lost the exhibition which was going to launch her career and her agent both on the same day. Perlita almost felt sorry for the girl. But then she considered how she’d been using them for their connections, and to further her career, and every trace of compassion vanished. She was a calculating little minx who’d taken a gamble and lost. And now she’d have to suffer the consequences. Just like they all did.
Nate had reached out to her that morning, calling her and sending messages and knocking on her door, but she’d ignored him. She didn’t want to see him or talk to him. And she most definitely did not want to discuss the affair. Or affairs, plural.
“Done,” said Detective Kingsley finally, and got up.
“So have you found the murderer?” she asked. “Only Michele told me you made an arrest? Her niece’s boyfriend?”
“Mr. Rocamora is a person of interest, but at this moment he is not under arrest,” said the cop, sounding very formal. He then regarded her closely. “You haven’t by any chance received a blackmail letter, have you, Mrs. Gruner?”
“No, I haven’t. Why, is there a blackmailer active?”
“I couldn’t say,” said the cop carefully, then thanked her for her cooperation.
“So how long do you think we’ll have to stay in this place? Only after what happened between me and Nate, things are a little strained at the moment.”
The police detective was very kind. He told her that he understood how difficult it was for her to have to stay under the same roof with the man she was now estranged from. And no, he couldn’t say how long this situation would go on.
He left, then, and she walked over to the window. Out on the court, she could see Nate playing a game against Glenn Aleman. Apparently he wasn’t too bowled over by their separation. He was even laughing, the traitorous bastard.
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