Page 42 of Gem Warfare

“Oh, cool. Should I have brought a flashlight?”

“No. It’s daylight.”

“I meant for the interrogation.”

“We’re not interrogating. We’re going to ask the landlady a few questions about the house, whom it was leased to, and what do they remember about the tenants. It’s not much of a lead but most of the neighbors moved and the one that didn’t has severe memory issues, while the other nearest might be away visiting relatives. So far, my mom has been my best source of information.”

“It pays to know everything about everyone,” said Lily. “If I weren’t such a scrupulous bar owner, I’d be keeping tabs on all my patrons, especially the ones sneaking into the restroom and thinking I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong with going to the restroom?”

“In mixed pairs? We don’t have unisex restrooms,” said Lily. “I’m thinking about how to word it so people stop doing that.”

“How about ‘stop doing that’?”

“That works. It’s succinct. What do we know about our lead?”

“She’s eighty. Married a bazillion years. Two kids. That’s it. I don’t even know if I have the correct address. It’s a guess.”

Lily kept a steady patter of questions up as I drove and when we parked outside the Bedford Hills address, she let out a low whistle. “Hello, McMansion,” she said, as we gazed at the Grecian columns, the neat, formal hedging, and the enormous American flag flying from the porch. Two black limousines were parked in the carriage driveway and it looked like they were having a party inside. A waiter with a tray of canapes moved past the window of what could have been a living room, pausing to hold out the tray to two suited men.

“This doesn’t look like a rental,” I said, pleased at my guesswork.

“I don’t know about that. My parents have had leases at some pretty stupendous dwellings.”

“Let’s check.”

“And if they don’t answer, we can break in.”

“Lily, no.”

“But…”

“No!”

Lily’s mouth turned down. I felt like I’d admonished a particularly well-meaning puppy, which filled me with guilt. “We can break in if it’s really necessary,” I said, hoping it wouldn’t be.

We headed towards the house and rang the doorbell. A moment later, a man in black suit answered.

“May I help you?” he asked, looking us over, a small crease between his eyes suggesting disapproval. He paused at Lily’s midriff and I was inclined to tell him he had no business judging because could he get abs like Lily’s after childbirth? I didn’t think so!

“I’m looking for Mrs. Elsie Greenberg,” I said. “May we speak with her?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“I don’t want to interrupt the party. It’ll only be for a few minutes. It’s important,” I said, reaching for my private investigator’s license.

“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. Mrs. Greenberg can’t talk to you.”

“Oh?” I felt like I was missing something.

“Mrs. Greenberg passed away over the weekend. This is her wake.”

Chapter Ten

“If only the Dugans decided to work on their yard last week,” said Lily. “We could have given Mrs. Greenberg something to live for.”

“Yeah.”

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