Page 82 of The Happy Month
“Most of the houses were built right after the war.”
“Did you ever hear anything about a woman named Vera Korenko?”
She crinkled her face. “No. Why would I?”
“She was a friend of the Markers. Murdered in 1949.”
She got very quiet. “There are rumors that Mr. Markerused to beat his wife. Obviously, that doesn’t make him a murderer, but it does make him violent.Ifthe rumors are true. I’ve never seen anything to suggest that. Even before he ended up on oxygen.”
I asked a rather obvious question. “If you don’t really talk to them, how do you know so much about them?”
“The Rabines have lived her longer than I have. Much longer. Elsie Rabine talks to Virginia from time to time. Elsie talks to me.” She seemed to hear herself and then felt compelled to say, “None of this is gossip. It’s just… factual. And you did mention murder.”
“I’m not here to criticize,” I said.
“Well, I should hope not. I’m only trying to help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
August 2, 1996
Early Friday Evening
On the drive home, Ronnie managed to schedule two showings for that evening. Almost as soon as we got home, he was out the door. The house was empty. John was probably at work and Junior was likely doing something at The Center. I’d unpacked our bags into the laundry basket and was poking around in the refrigerator looking for something to eat when I heard the doorbell. I walked through the house to answer it. Lydia.
“Come on in.”
She walked in. She was wearing a well-tailored pair of slacks and a white blouse with a built-in bow. I asked if I could get her anything, and she said, “I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Please, take up my time. Ronnie is showing houses for the next few hours and for once the house is empty. It feels a little weird.”
“Don’t get too excited for my company, I’m going to askyou to do some work this weekend.” She gave me a guilty look.
“What do you need?”
“I want you to convince Sammy Blanchard to come in for a deposition next week.”
I stared at her for a moment, then said, “I’m going to get you a glass of wine. Meet me in the dining room.”
What the—how did she think I was going to convince Sammy to do that? Sammy had made it crystal clear when I’d spoken to her before that she had a lawyer, a lawyer who didn’t want her talking to anyone. When I got back to the kitchen, I found a bottle of red wine, opened it, and poured Lydia a glass. I went through the swinging door into the dining room.
Setting the glass down in front of her, I said, “I have no idea how to get her to sit for a deposition.”
“At one point, she told you that Pete Michaels was blackmailing her husband, so he killed him.”
“That was a lie, though. You know that.”
“I’d like her to say that in a deposition.”
“Isn’t that suborning perjury?” I asked. I’d probably picked up just enough law to be dangerous.
She took a sip of her wine. And said, “Not bad.” Taking a deep breath she said, “Yes. It could be considered suborning perjury. That’s what I wanted legal advice on. It’s defensible. For one thing, she’s not my client. For another, wethinkshe’s lying, but we don’t know for certain. We don’t know anything for certain. She never confessed to killing Pete. That’s just what we think.”
“I doubt that she’ll confess.”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever story she tells under oath is likely to be good for us.”
“You’re planning to ask questions that show her up as a liar, aren’t you?”
