"Well, he and J.J. were feuding for years. He's in the trucking business now, and he's building an enormously expensive house. We're doing the interior with a no-limit budget."
"Trucking logs out of the mountains must be lucrative," Qwilleran commented.
"According to conventional wisdom, Uncle Josh was stashing the money away in a coffee can buried in his backyard all the time he was sheriff."
The waiter brought the antipasto on very cold plates, followed by the entrees on very hot plates. Having ordered tagliatelle in a sauce of ricotta, leeks, and ham, Qwilleran twirled his fork in rapt appreciation for a while.
Eventually he asked, "Who is this partner you're always mentioning?"
"Spencer Poole. He's an older man and a wonderful person. When I was in high school he gave me a summer job, folding samples and keeping the studio dusted. After I graduated from design school, he took me into the firm because he liked the sound of Peel & Poole."
Uh-huh, Qwilleran thought, grooming his moustache. It was more likely because she's a stunning young woman.
Sabrina said, "I told him it should be Poole & Peel, since he's the senior partner, but he pointed out the importance of vowel sounds in the name of a design studio. He said 'ee-oo' has more class than 'oo-ee,' which is associated with hog calling. Spencer is fussy about details, but that's what makes him a terrific designer. He's taught me a lot," she said, her eyes sparkling. They were green tonight; a few days ago they were blue.
"With a name like Peel, you must be Scottish," he remarked. "My mother was a Mackintosh."
"Say something in Scots," she said teasingly.
"Mony a mickle mak' a muckle," he recited.
"Many small things make a large thing," she guessed.
"That's its popular meaning, although the dictionary defines mickle and muckle as synonyms. George Washing-eon used the expression in the popular sense, however, and if it's good enough for the Father of our Country, it's good enough for me."
"My partner would love the sound of it," she said.
Speaking seriously in a lower voice, Qwilleran said, "Your partner seems like an astute individual. Does he have any idea who really killed Hawkinfield? The man's enemies are easy to identify; the ones who arouse my suspicion are his so-called friends."
Sabrina put down her fork and stared at him. "Well," she said hesitantly, "when it first happened . . . Spencer thought it might be the husband of J.J.'s girlfriend. But now I guess there's no doubt it was Beechum."
Qwilleran stroked his moustache. "Hawkinfield had a girlfriend? Was it well-known?"
"This is a very small town, Qwill. It was well-known but not talked about. She worked at the Gazette—still does, in fact—and she thought J.J. walked on water. That's the kind of woman he liked. She used to bake cookies for him all the time, and he called her Cookie, even around the office. Everyone knows he paid for her face-lift."
"But she had a husband?"
"Not until a few years ago. She married a run-of-the-mill house builder who immediately landed the contract for all the houses on Big Potato, and he turned out to be a real Hawksman."
"Did he know about his wife's connection with Hawk-infield?"
"Who knows? He was a simple soul—sort of a male Polly anna. We all liked him when we worked with him on interiors. He had a massive heart attack and died . . . Don't quote me on any of this."
When dessert was served—almond ravioli with raspberry sauce—Qwilleran returned to the subject of the biography. He said, "In doing my research I'd like to explore Hawkin-field's relationship with his children—just for background information, so that I feel comfortable with my subject."
"Yes, I can understand that," she said. "The three boys were the center of his universe, you know, and they were really bright kids, but J.J. neglected his daughter because she had the misfortune to be female. He gave the boys bikes, skis, golf lessons, even private tutoring. Sherry got piano lessons, which she hated."
"How did she feel about her father?"
"Not enthusiastic! She referred to him flippantly as her male parent and scorned her mother for being weak. When I was doing the interior of Tiptop, Sherry latched onto me as a sort of role model. That's how she acquired an interest in selling decorative accessories."
"Was she as smart as her brothers?"
"She was shrewd, rather than book smart—even devious," Sabrina said. "I think her second-class standing in the family slanted her that way; she had to look out for Sherry. And now that she's in business for herself, that's not a bad quality to have."
"I saw a family photograph," Qwilleran said, "and she looked like an unhappy girl—certainly unattractive."
