TWENTY
"I LIKE YOU," Penny said. "And I think you're a smart man."
"I haven't proved it so far," I said.
"You've done your best. How can you figure out the mind of a madman."
"You think all this is the work of a madman?"
"Of course, don't you?"
"Just that occupational knee jerk," I said. "Somebody says something, I ask a question."
"I understand," she said.
We were sitting in the stable office. It was still drizzling outside. The crime scene tape was gone. There was no sign that Walter Clive had died there. The horses were all in their stalls, looking out now and then, but discouraged by the sporadic rain.
"With Daddy's death," Penny said, "I have the responsibility of running things, and I don't know how it's going to go. Daddy ran so much of this business out of his hip pocket. Handshakes, personal phone calls, promises made over martinis. I don't know how long it will take me to get control of it all and see where I am."
"And you have your sisters to support," I said.
"Their husbands do that," Penny said.
"And who supports the husbands?"
She dipped her head in acknowledgment.
"I guess they didn't just get their jobs through the help-wanted ads, did they," she said.
"And I'll bet they couldn't get comparable pay somewhere else," I said.
"That's unkind," Penny said.
"But true," I said.
She smiled.
"But true."
I waited.
"Look at me sitting at Daddy's desk, in Daddy's office. I feel like a little girl that's snuck in where I shouldn't be."
"You're where you should be," I said.
"Thank you."
We sat.
"This is hard," Penny said.
I didn't know what "this" was. Penny paused and took in a long breath.
"I'm going to have to let you go," she said.
I nodded.
"I don't want any but the most necessary expenses. The investigation is in the hands of the police now, and with my father's death, they are fully engaged."
"I saw the governor at the wake," I said.
"When it was just some horses, and not terribly valuable ones at that," Penny said, "no one was working that hard on it. Now that Daddy's been killed…"
"It has their attention," I said. "I can stick around pro bono for a while."
"I couldn't ask you to do that."
"It's not just for you," I said. "I don't like having a client shot out from under me."
"I know, but no. I thank you for what you've done, and for being so decent a man. But I'd prefer that you left this to the police."
"Okay," I said.
"Please send me your final bill," she said.
"Against the private eye rules," I said. "Your client gets shot, you don't bill his estate."
"It's not your fault," she said. "I want a final bill."
"Sure," I said.
"You're not going to send one, are you."
"No."
I stood. She stood.
"You're a lovely man," she said. "Would you like to say goodbye to Hugger?"
I had no feelings one way or another about Hugger, but horse people are like that and she'd just called me a lovely man.
"Sure," I said.
"Give him a carrot," she said, and handed me one.
We walked in the now more insistent rain along the stable row until we came to Hugger's stall. He looked out, keeping his head stall side of the drip line, his big dark eyes looking, I suspected, far more profound than he was. I handed him a carrot on my open palm, and he lipped it in. I patted his nose and turned and Penny stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss on the lips.
"Take care of yourself," she said.
"You too," I said.
The kiss was sisterly, with no heat in it, but she stayed leaning against me, with her arms still around my neck, and her head thrown back so she could look up at me.
"I'm sorry things didn't work out," she said.
"Me too," I said.
We stayed that way for a minute. Then she let go of me and stepped back and looked at me for another moment and turned and walked back to the stable office. I watched her go, and then turned the collar of my jacket up to keep the rain off my neck and headed for my car.