At that, her composure cracked. “He promised me no one would ever know.” Tears carved two furrows in the makeup on her cheeks. Her mother hurried over with a box of tissues and fussed over her, telling her somewhat confusedly to go ahead and have a good cry.
I was still standing. “I really think we’d better continue this conversation alone. Is there another room we can go to, Mrs. Phillips?”
“What are you talking about?” her mother said. “Clayton had a very good salary at Eudora Grain. Why, when they made him an officer five years ago, he and Jeannine bought this house.”
“That’s okay, Mother.” Jeannine patted the older woman’s hand. “I’d better talk to this woman.” She turned to Paige and said with sudden venom, “I suppose you know all about it.”
Paige gave her triangular smile. “I know a fair amount.” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “But who am I to cast stones, after all?” She picked up a sweater lying on the table beside her. “Better talk to Vic, Jeannine. If you don’t, she’ll only come in and burglarize the place so she can examine your bankbooks.” She drifted over to Jeannine’s chair and kissed the air by her cheek. “I’m going back to the city. I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow afternoon—unless you want me to come up before then.”
“No, that’s all right, dear,” Jeannine’s mother said. “We’ll manage fine.” She bustled out to the hall behind the elegant younger woman.
I looked after them, puzzled. I assumed at first that Paige must have met Jeannine at some Eudora Grain function when she was dating Boom Boom. But that last exchange made it sound like a fairly close relationship.
“How do you know Paige?” I asked.
Jeannine turned her tear-streaked face to me for the first time since I’d mentioned the invoices. “How do I know her? She’s my sister. Why wouldn’t I know her?”
“Your sister!” We sounded like a couple of damned parrots. “Sisters. I see.” Actually, I didn’t see a thing. I sat down. “Did you take her to the party where she met my cousin?”
She looked surprised. “What party was that?”
“I don’t know who gave it. Probably Guy Odinflute. He lives around here, doesn’t he? Niels Grafalk was interested in buying a share in the Black Hawks. My cousin came up along with some of the other players. Paige was there and she met my cousin. I want to know who brought her.”
Jeannine swallowed a sly smile. “That party. No, we didn’t go.”
“But were you invited?”
“Mr. Odinflute may have asked us … We get asked to a lot of parties at Christmas. If you want to know who Paige went with, though, you ask her.”
I looked at her narrowly: she knew, but she wouldn’t tell. I turned my attention to the money. “Tell me about the invoices, Jeannine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. You just said he’d promised no one would ever know. I called about them Saturday night—left a message with your son Paul. What did your husband do next?”
She shed a few more tears but in the end it came out that she didn’t know. They got back late. Paul had left the message by the kitchen phone. When Clayton saw it, he went into his study and shut the door. He made a phone call and left a few minutes later. No, not in the Alfa. Had someone picked him up? She didn’t know. He was very upset and told her not to bother him. It was about one-thirty Sunday morning when he went out. That was the last time she ever saw him.
“Now tell me about the invoices, Jeannine. He was padding them, wasn’t he?”
She didn’t say anything.
“People would give him bids on Eudora Grain cargoes and he would log the orders at one price but bill them at another. Is that right.”
She started crying again. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know how he worked it, but you know he was doing it. That’s true, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t ask, as long as the bills got paid.” She was sobbing harder.
I was losing my temper. “Did you know what your husband’s salary was?”
“Of course I knew what Clayton earned.” Her tears stopped long enough for her to glare at me.
“Sure you did. And you knew ninety-two thousand, however good it looks compared to the other girls at Park Forest South High, or whatever it was, wasn’t enough to pay for a boat. This house. Your designer clothes. The kid at Claremont. Those high-ticket cars. The Izod T-shirts little Terri runs around in. Dues at the Maritime Club. Just out of curiosity, what does the Maritime Club run you a year? I was betting twenty-five thousand.”
“You don’t understand!” She sat up and stared at me with fierce, angry eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like when all the other girls have everything they want and you’re making do with last year’s clothes.”