The cell phone tucked into the pocket of his sports jacket started to ring. He reached for the phone, saw who it was, accepted the call.
“Hey, Martin, how are you. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you. I’ve been dealing with some issues on the home front and I’m not going to be able to look at your proposal anytime soon. Yeah, sorry about that. Take care.”
Gill ended the call, set the phone onto the countertop, and made a show of pushing it away from him. It slid across the granite and bumped into Agnes’s phone, an identical model, nudging it like a curling stone.
“They’re a curse, those things,” he said. “We think they’re these great gadgets but we can never get away from everyone who wants us.”
“You could turn it off,” Agnes said, ladling soup into a bowl.
“I know, I know; I’m guilty. I could turn it off, but I don’t, because I’m afraid I’ll miss something. I could say the same thing to you, you know. You’ve got a phone practically glued to your palm.”
Agnes leaned across the island, handed Gill some soup.
“This looks good,” he said. “Where’s this from?”
“Marla and I stopped at the deli on the way home and picked it up,” Agnes said, then shook her head sadly. “It never even occurred to you that I might have made it.”
“If it had, I can see I’d have been wrong.”
“Stop,” Marla said. “Even when you guys kid each other, it sounds like fighting.”
“We’re not fighting,” Agnes said. “Gill, have you heard from Natalie today?”
He shook his head. “No. I think maybe she’s waiting to see what the cops do next. If they think they have a case, and they file a charge, you know, if they decide to—”
“Take me away in handcuffs,” Marla said.
Gill sighed. “If they think they have a case against Marla, and arrest her, things go into overdrive. She said they’re doing a rush on those bloodstains that were found on the door at Marla’s house.”
“I’ll bet the angel left them,” Marla said. “She must have gotten blood on her hands when she took Matthew from that woman’s house after someone killed her.”
Agnes turned away, removing from the burner the pot she’d used to reheat the soup.
“Can you tell us anything more about this angel?” Gill asked.
“I don’t know what else to say,” Marla said.
“I think,” Agnes said, her back to them, “that we have to be proactive here. I’ll call Natalie and tell her we want to know what her game plan is, should we need it.” She shook her head in frustration. “I think the fact that there’ve been no charges up to now is a good sign. They just don’t have the evidence. I know things are going to be okay. They only charge someone when they think they’ve got a strong case.”
“You’re rambling, Mom,” Marla said.
“I’m just trying to make a point, that’s all. I’m calling Natalie right now.”
She spun around, swept up the phone in one quick movement, and left the kitchen. She went into the living room, sat down on the couch, and glanced at the list of recent calls. She immediately spotted a number she knew, and said, just loud enough that Gill heard her in the kitchen, “How did I miss this from Carol?”
Agnes tapped on the number to return the call.
In the kitchen, Gill dropped his spoon in his soup, splattered some tomato on his crisp white shirt, and looked at the other phone resting a couple of feet away from him.
Agnes held the phone to her ear. Her assistant answered after the third ring. “Hey,” Carol said in a whisper. “I thought we were going to take a break. Where are you, Gill? Are you at home?”
“Carol?” Agnes said.
A second of silence. Then: “Ms. Pickens?”
Again Agnes said, “Carol?” A pause, and then: “Why did—”
She cut herself off, ended the call. Tossed the phone onto the cushion. Took a moment to consider what she’d just learned.
Gill came into the room with the other phone. Smiling innocently. “I think this one is yours.” He extended his hand, but Agnes ignored it.
“It was going on right under my nose,” she said. “My own assistant.”
Gill shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Agnes, but whatever it is, you’re wrong. Carol just happened to call me; I guess she couldn’t reach you at the time, and—”
Agnes raised a hand, picked up Gill’s phone again. “She called you while I was still in my office. I was right there.” She studied the screen more intently, looking at the call history. “She called you yesterday. And three days ago. And two times on Monday.”
Agnes stood, then suddenly pitched the phone at her husband, catching him on the temple. It hit the floor hard, skidded along the marble.
“Jesus!” Gill said, putting his hand on his head. “I’m telling you, she—”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
Marla appeared at the edge of the room, rubbing her bandaged left wrist with her right hand. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“It’s okay,” Gill said. “Just a misunderstanding.”