A Toast Before Dying by Grace F. Edwards Read Free Book Online Page B

Thea?”
    “About every month or so. She was modeling, singing. We called each other quite a lot, probably because she had no one else to confide in.”
    “Who’s handling the funeral arrangements?”
    “I suppose I’ll do it. Her husband—”
    “Husband? Thea was married?”
    “Yes, in 1991, but Roger had left her. Wanted a divorce, but she refused for some reason. I couldn’t understand that.”
    “Did she love him?”
    She picked up her glass again, twirled it from habit, then put it down. “I don’t know. They met when she was modeling. Married quickly and broke up just as fast. I mean before the wedding pictures came from the photographer she was back in her apartment on 116th Street and Seventh Avenue.”
    “Graham Court?”
    “Yes. I was glad she hadn’t given that up. In some ways, the girl was smart. Place has seven large rooms, beautiful fireplaces, fabulous floors.”
    Gladys looked at me, aware that she had slipped momentarily into her broker’s role.
    “Then she demanded a settlement. A very expensive one. Roger’s a successful architect and I suppose Thea thought he should meet her price. Personally, I was disappointed. Roger could have given her the love and security she seemed to need so badly.”
    The smile had vanished and Gladys seemed ready to cry, so I remained quiet as she refilled the glasses. Alcohol usually loosens the tongue, but if tears came there might be no more conversation. She had turned the answering machine down but not entirely off and several messages—more like murmurs—filtered into the silence. Gladys ignored them and I remained silent, thinking about Thea.
    Damn. The girl had been married. Not even the papers mentioned that. Dad, who knew all about everyone in the business, didn’t mention that. It must have truly been one of those blink-and-you-miss-it moments.
    “If I’m not being too inquisitive, how much was Thea asking to cut this guy loose?”
    Gladys looked at her watch, a paper-thin gold Piaget, and rose to get another bottle of ginger ale. She moved toward the small refrigerator and her voice when she answered trailed after her. “The last figure I heard was around fifty thousand. That was three years ago. She suggested he could pay it in installments.”
    Installments. How thoughtful. And not a bad payoff for a few months’ inconvenience. Whatever the hell was wrong with her, the girl was definitely a high-maintenance sister.
    Gladys must have anticipated my next question.
    “I called his office as soon as I heard about Thea,” she said. “Roger is in Puerto Rico at a conference.”
    “A conference. Out of town.”
    “Out of the country, actually.”
    “I see …”
    I also saw that it was one thing to pay fifty thousandfor your freedom. And quite a bargain to perhaps pay someone—when you were off the scene—five thousand to do a job for you. Maybe get it done for as little as five hundred if your connections were good. A crackhead might do it for fifty. Except they couldn’t be trusted. If Roger had hired someone, it would’ve been a professional. But why wait so many years to do it? And why kill her on her birthday?
    “When did you last speak to her?” I asked.
    I watched her carefully as her eyes filled again, but the tears did not spill over. It was a few seconds before she said, “I talked to her shortly before she died. Called the bar to tell her I was on my way. I had been working on a closing late into the evening. When I got there, the place was in chaos. The police hadn’t even roped it off yet. There were people, two women I think, still in the place …”
    “Drinking?” I asked.
    Gladys shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I only remember hearing Kendrick’s name. And I saw his sister, Bertha, screaming at the police, at Laws, at anybody who’d listen.”
    “Speaking of Bertha: Do you know the two women who came into her shop when you were there?”
    She looked at me and shrugged. “I have no idea