the motel with Arthur the last day of his life,” Kemp told her, “just before the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. She ran out the door and was seen. At the hospital the doctor, not aware of any foul play, diagnosed a heart attack from the symptoms. There was no autopsy.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Hardy said. She gave her audience a knowing look. “And you think she killed him, don’t you?” she asked Kemp.
He was impressed. “Yes, I do,” he told her honestly.
“I didn’t want to think about that, but I’ve had my doubts,” she said. “He never had heart trouble. There had been some mixup at a clinic in San Antonio and he ended up getting a heart catherization that he didn’t really need. What it showed was that his heart and arteries were in fine shape, no blockages at all. So it came as something of a surprise when he died only a month later of a supposed heart attack. But I was far too upset at his affair and his sudden death to think clearly.”
“If it’s any consolation, Janet Collins had a way with men,” Kemp replied. “She was known for playing up to older men, and she isn’t a bad-looking woman. Most men react predictably to a head-on assault.”
Violet was wondering irrelevantly if it would work with Kemp, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.
“Arthur had strayed before,” Mrs. Hardy said surprisingly, and with an apologetic glance at Violet. “He was a handsome, vital man, and I was always quiet and shy and rather ordinary.”
“You weren’t ordinary,” Violet protested.
“My people were very wealthy, dear,” she told her daughter sadly. “And Arthur was ambitious. He wanted his own accounting firm, and I helped him get it. Not that he didn’t work hard, but he’d never have made it without my backing. I think that hurt his pride. Maybe his…affairs…were a way of proving to himself that he could still appeal to beautiful women even as he got older. I’m sorry, Violet,” she added, patting her daughter’s thigh. “But parents are human, too. Arthur did love you, and he tried to be a good father, even if he wasn’t a good husband.”
Violet clenched her teeth. She could only imagine how it would have felt to her, if she’d been married and her husband thought nothing of having affairs with other women.
“By the time Arthur started straying,” Mrs. Hardy continued, “I was too fragile to leave him and strike out on my own. There was Violet, who needed both her parents and a stable environment. And I could no longer take care of myself. Arthur paid a price to stay with me, under the circumstances. I don’t really blame him for what he did.”
She did, though, and it showed. Violet hugged her close. “I blame him,” she murmured.
“So do I,” Kemp said, surprisingly firm. “Any honorable man would have asked for a divorce before getting involved with another woman.”
“Why, you Puritan,” Mrs. Hardy accused with a smile.
“I’ve got company,” he jerked his thumb at Violet.
Mrs. Hardy laughed. She folded her hands in her lap. “Okay, so we’ve settled that Arthur probably had an affair with Janet Collins and she may have been responsible for his death. But unless he’s exhumed, and an autopsy done, we can’t prove it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Mr. Kemp?”
“You’re amazing, Mrs. Hardy,” Kemp replied with admiration in his pale blue eyes.
“I’m perceptive. Ask Violet.” The smile faded. “When do you want to do it?”
“As soon as possible. I’ll make the arrangements, if you’re willing. There will be papers to sign. It may make news as well.”
“I can manage. So can Violet,” Mrs. Hardy assured him, smiling up at her daughter.
“I can,” Violet assured him. “We’ll both do whatever’s necessary. Whatever Daddy did, she had no right to kill him.”
“Very well.” Kemp got up from the sofa and shook hands with Mrs. Hardy one last time. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve got things underway. You’re taking this very well.”
“Surprised you, did I?” The elderly woman chuckled.
He nodded. “Pleasantly, at that,” he said, adding a smile. “I’ll see you.” He glanced at Violet. “Walk me to the door.”
She got up and followed him out into the hall, her eyes wide and curious on his face.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked down at her for a long moment with narrow, intent eyes.
“I’ll let you know the details as soon as I work them out with the proper authorities,” he told her. “You think she’ll handle it all right?” he added, alluding to her mother.
“She will,” Violet replied with certainty. She looked up at him with soft, hungry eyes. “How is everything at work?”
He grimaced. “I have to make the coffee myself,” he muttered. “Mabel and Libby don’t make it strong enough. And Mabel is ready to tear her hair out over the extra work. So I guess we’ll be advertising for a new secretary.”
Violet didn’t notice that he had a hopeful, anticipatory look on his face, because her eyes were downcast. She thought he was criticizing her for leaving him in the lurch, and after he’d all but forced her out of his office.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to suit you, Mr. Kemp,” she said in a subdued tone.
The formality and her lack of interest irritated him. He opened the door with a jerk. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and left without even looking back.
Violet closed the door behind him, forcing herself not to look hungrily at his departing back as he left. She’d hoped just for a few seconds that he might be offering her back her old job. That was obviously not the case.
Kemp climbed into his car, irritable and unsettled by Violet’s lack of response when he’d practically laid her old job at her feet. Duke Wright wasn’t bad-looking, and he had an eye for a pretty woman. He was all but divorced now, too. Violet was attractive. He hoped Wright wasn’t trying to turn her head. He was going to check into that. For Violet’s own good, of course. He wasn’t interested in her himself.
Involuntarily, his mind went back eight years, to the only woman he’d really ever loved. Shannon Culbertson had been eighteen the year they started dating. It had been love at first sight for both of them. Kemp, who was already a junior partner in a local law firm, having graduated from college late at the age of twenty-eight, was in practice with Shannon’s uncle. They met at the office and started dating. Within a month, they knew they were going to be married one day. Shannon had gone to a party with a girlfriend, at Julie Merrill’s house. Nobody understood why Julie wanted her worst enemy at the bash, least of all Shannon—but she thought maybe Julie was willing to bury the hatchet over the rivalry of the two girls for senior president. Someone, probably Julie herself, had put a forerunner of the date rape drug into Shannon’s soft drink. She had an undiagnosed heart condition, and the drug had killed her.
It still hurt Kemp to remember the aftermath. He’d mourned her for months, blamed Julie, tried to have her arrested for the crime. But her father was a state senator and wealthy. The case never got to trial, despite Kemp’s best efforts.
He still resented the Merrills. He missed Shannon. But since Violet had come to work for him, he’d thought less and less about his old love. In the mornings, he’d looked forward to Violet’s smiling, happy face in his office. He was afraid of the feeling he got when she nurtured him. He didn’t ever want to risk loving someone again. Tragedy had hallmarked his life. He’d had a sister, Dolores, who’d died in a swimming accident his senior year of high school. His mother had died of cancer soon afterward. There had only been the two of them, because his father had gone overseas to work for an oil company in the Middle East when he was only a child, fallen in love with a French woman, and divorced