“But you’ve got no leads now, right, Dix?” Chappy asked him.
“Oh, we’re managing to keep busy,” Dix said easily, sitting back and lacing his fingers over his belly.
Chappy suddenly said, “Dix, I heard you found poor old Walt McGuffey murdered in his own house. Another shock like that and you’ll have to bury me. Who would want to kill him? Oh, I see. Someone must have thought Walt saw something he shouldn’t since he lives near the other entrance to Winkel’s Cave.”
“That’s possible,” Dix said. “Walt was a fine gentleman, and Christie really loved him. He was devastated when she disappeared.” He didn’t mention finding Ruth’s Beemer in the shed. He turned to Cynthia. “I find it surprising that you and Erin Bushnell were such good friends. I haven’t seen you make friends with any women in town.”
“I grew up with three women at home, Dix,” Cynthia said, “and they were world-class bitches all, if that gives you some idea of why I never bothered. I believed Erin was different, but she wasn’t. Yes, she made a show of affection for Uncle Gordon, but only to throw me off her real objective, which was my own husband. That’s why she spent so much time with me here, at Tara. She wanted to see you, Tony.”
“Or maybe,” Chappy said, voice sly, “both of you had the hots for old Twister.”
“That’s not funny, Chappy. He’s nearly as old as you are,” Cynthia said. “How much longer before you grow up?”
Dix said quickly, “So you think Ginger’s wrong about Erin loving Dr. Holcombe, Cynthia?”
Cynthia shrugged one of her thin, elegant shoulders under her dark red St. John knit top. “Ginger would say anything to make you happy, wouldn’t she, Dix? Everyone but you knows she’d love to jump your bones. Now, her mother, Gloria Stanford, she’s another matter.”
After dropping that bomb, Cynthia gave her full attention to her shrimp salad.
Ruth took a sip of her white wine. “What about you, Chappy, do you know if your brother was sleeping with anyone else?”
Dix shot her a look, a ghost of a smile on his mouth before he speared a water chestnut out of his shrimp salad.
“Gloria and Twister sleeping together? Nah, maybe a long time ago, but she’s way too old for him now,” Chappy said. “Fact is, Twister likes ’em young. Even Cynthia’s long in the tooth for Twister’s tastes. You best accept the end is in sight, Cynthia.”
Ruth said, “So Erin Bushnell was the right age for him?”
“Early twenties? Yeah, that’s right, but what do I know, Agent Ruth? Really, what do I know? Me and Twister, we haven’t gotten along since before you were born—too much alike, I suppose, and it makes our pots bubble and boil. Sounds like it’s time you ask him, watch him sputter a bit.” His smile was malicious.
After Mrs. Goss had cleared off the table, she brought in a big New York cheesecake and set it with some panache in the middle of the table, and handed Chappy a knife. As he cut them all slices, Ruth said, “I really like your house, Chappy. Why did you name it Tara?”
“Because when I brought Tony and Christie’s mama here I told her she’d never be hungry again.”
Tony said to Ruth, “My mother had a trust fund the size of the Rhode Island State budget.”
Chappy laughed. “Makes a cute story. I like the name Tara. It appeals to something way down deep inside me. The architecture’s real close, except, of course, we’ve got lots of nice big bathrooms.”
Thirty minutes later Dix pulled out onto the long driveway. Ruth said, “We’ve already got fingerprints for those two men and IAFIS is trying to match what we’ve got. Why all that fancy talk about the FBI?”
Dix grunted, shoved on his dark aviator glasses.
“Setting a cat among the pigeons, were you?”
He grinned at her. “Who knows what might come out of that? The three of them always, I repeat, always put on a show for visitors. You start them on a topic and they’ll go with it. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but they were really rather tame today. Erin Bushnell’s death took a lot of the fun out of it for them. Walt’s death, too.”
Ruth nodded. “I agree there were strong feelings about Erin, but I couldn’t figure out who felt what.”
“These folks are good. They’ve had years of practice.”
“I’ve seen dysfunctional families before, and I’m probably part of one myself, but those three are champions.”