I sloughed this off. After all, if Ray was a murderer, I didn’t want him to think I was too good. “Ella tends to exaggerate. But I have been . . . well, sort of involved in a couple investigations. That’s why I went to Big Daddy Burger to talk to you the other day, Ray. I’m trying to figure out some things. You know, about Marjorie’s murder.” I wisely did not mention that one of those things was who dun it. Just in case. Instead, I kept things cool and noncommittal. “I’ve just been wondering. That’s all. You know, about everything that happened. I can’t figure it out.”
“Wish I could help.”
I stared at him in a way that should have told him he could, if only he’d open up and tell me what was going on. But since Ray was so busy wringing his hands and looking at the floor, I guess he didn’t notice. That’s why I had to egg him on.
“What are you doing here, Ray?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. He tapped one foot against the carpet. Just when I thought he was going to spill the beans, he folded. “I can’t,” he said. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than the way Marjorie strung you along so that you’d take her to dinner and the movies?”
It was a good move on my part. He had no choice but to shake his head. “Not more embarrassing than that,” he admitted. “But still . . .”
I am not usually an ease-into-the-subject sort of person. It’s a waste of time, and honestly, I don’t have the patience for that sort of nonsense. But I could tell that Ray was going to need some coaxing.
I eased into the subject.
“Nobody liked Marjorie,” I said, and sure it was an understatement and went without saying, but remember, I was easing here. “She was a bully.”
“A self-righteous bully.” Ray’s shoulders rose and fell. “That’s the worst kind.”
“Which doesn’t mean she should have died the way she did.”
I was hoping he’d agree with me. Instead, he sat up straight and asked, “Do you think it’s all right to pay somebody back for the bad things that somebody did to you?”
I turned in my seat, the better to keep both eyes on Ray. “You mean Marjorie.”
He nodded. “Do you think revenge is all right? I mean, if it’s justified?”
My throat was suddenly dry. I swallowed the sand. “If you’re talking about murder—”
“Murder? Oh my, no way!” A touch of green added to the sallowness of Ray’s complexion. “I hope you don’t think—” He blanched because, of course, from what he’d just said, it was the only thing I could think. He slid me a look. “You gonna tell the cops?”
“Not if there’s nothing to tell them.”
“You gonna think less of me?”
“That, I can’t say.” I scooted just a titch closer. I was trying to establish some kind of rapport, after all. I needed every advantage I could get. “I don’t know what I’ll do or say until you tell me what’s bugging you.”
He laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a biggee.”
“Bet I’ve heard it before.”
I was pretty sure my strategy wasn’t working. Ray sat there like a lump, and I was all set to chalk the whole thing up to faulty psychology when he pulled in a breath and let it go along with a sigh. “That day when you came to see me at Big Daddy Burger, I wasn’t exactly truthful with you, Pepper,” he said. “Not completely anyway. And it wasn’t like I wanted to lie to you. I just couldn’t help myself. You see, when you asked me what I was doing here at Marjorie’s that night—”
“You told me you came here to tell her to get lost. Because of that rude note she sent you about Nick’s wedding.”
Ray nodded. “Well, that’s true insofar as it goes. That’s why I came here. I wanted to tell her that I was tired of being taken advantage of. And I did. I wanted her to know that Ray Gwitkowski is nobody’s patsy. And I told her that, too. I wanted to make her understand—loud and clear—that I was tired of her stringing me along. I did that, too. But I also . . .” He hung his head. “I did something else, too.”
So he wasn’t about to confess that he’d killed Marjorie. Not that night, anyway. Not unless he loaded her body into a car, drove all the way to the cemetery, dragged her into the memorial and up that corkscrew stairway just so he could hurl her off the balcony.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever he told me, it couldn’t come anywhere near murder.
“I never meant for it to happen,” Ray said. “It was just . . . well, you remember, Marjorie and I went into the den to talk. That’s when I was all set to tell her how I was tired of waiting for that get-rich scheme she promised me. I’d had it with her. I would have told her right then and there, too. If you hadn’t knocked over whatever it was you knocked over in here.”
I looked toward the fireplace. The day before, that vase with the long, old-fashioned hat pins in it had been set right next to it. Today, the vase was knocked over and lying on its side about five feet away.
“It was those hat pins,” I told Ray, pointing. “They made a lot of noise when they hit.”
