Page 111 of Not a Word

“Yeah, sure,” she said, moving crablike on her back, farther into the room.

“Get up.”

Alicia got to her feet. With his foot, Crane pulled a chair away from the table in the kitchen nook and nodded, inviting her to take a seat. She sat. He glanced at the now empty box, the periodicals and catalogs scattered across the table. Yellow-spined copies of National Geographic, a thick catalog from Restoration Hardware. Something about that one caught Crane’s eye.

He lifted out the catalog, saw stamped right there on the cover for all to see, Catherine’s name and address.

Crane closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

Alicia, mustering some false bravado, said, “You better have the money on you, or get it here, ASAP.”

Crane eyed her as a cat might look at a mouse. “First, I need the answers to some questions.”

“Like what? If I want it in twenties or hundreds?”

Crane gave her a sly smile. “Your actions insinuate that Mrs. Chartwell has something to hide.”

“Yeah, well, her wanting to pay me off is kind of a clue, isn’t it?”

“What is it you think she’s done?”

“I don’t think. I know.” She grinned. “I know it like I know you’re a four-eyed fuck face.”

“Convince me.”

“Maybe I should call the cops and convince them.”

Crane smiled. “Go ahead.”

She made no move to get out her phone.

Another smile. “In a little too deep, aren’t you?” He gave her a long, contemplative look, narrowed his eyes and asked, “How much did he tell you?”

Her eyes danced. “Who? About what?”

He used his foot again to pull the chair opposite her out and sat. “How do you know Holden? And spare me the obfuscation. It tries my patience.”

Her mouth was dry. “I need some water.”

He raised a hand toward the sink. She got up, found a glass, ran some water into it from the tap, and sat back down. She took a long sip and said, “Rehab.”

“Go on.”

“In the group, Holden said stuff about covering up for someone, that it fucked him up. Something that happened a long time ago.”

Crane ran his tongue over his upper teeth. “So he gave the whole group the details?”

She shook her head. “No. But he said enough that I got curious. The timing, some of what he said, it lined up with what happened to my aunt.”

Crane nodded very slowly. “And your aunt. Evelyn Corby?”

She was unable to hide her surprise. “Yes.”

“Holden told you his mother had killed her.”

Another head shake. “Not exactly. I told him I had an aunt that got murdered but changed the name and circumstances. But we still had kind of a bond, and then he told me what happened. Pretty much all of it.” She tried to puff herself up. “And if she doesn’t want me telling anyone, she needs to come up with the money she promised. She owes me. She ruined my life.”

Crane said nothing.