“Do they suspect their father?”
“Even if they did, they would never acknowledge it.”
“And yet you have no trouble doing so.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, always. How do you want to start digging?”
“I snitched my mother’s address book. A Donna Rothwell is listed in there. She’s the only Donna, so she must be the one. I know it’s very late but I thought we could call her and meet with her.”
“On what pretext?”
“My wanting to know who my mother’s friends were? Stories she could tell me. Quaint memories that might just lead me to a murderer.”
“And if that person turns out to be your father?”
“I don’t make exceptions to that rule. If he’s the one, so be it.”
Donna Rothwell agreed to meet with them despite the late hour. She was in her early sixties, about five-five, with a compact, athletic build. She had meticulously styled hair and carefully applied makeup. She exuded considerable warmth and even vivaciousness. Her home was about four miles from the Maxwells’. It was large, richly furnished, and immaculate; a woman in full maid’s uniform had answered the door. The lady definitely had money, and from the many photos and mementos arrayed on shelves and tables, it was clear that she had traveled the world in high style.
She explained, “My late husband, Marty, was CEO of a large computer company and cashed out early. We lived a good life together.”
“Your husband passed on?” Sean asked.
“Years ago. His heart.”
“Never remarried?”
“Marty and I were college sweethearts. Doubt I’d get anything that good again, so why take a chance? But I date. Going steady right now, in fact. Sounds like high school, I know, but things come full circle if you live long enough.”
“So you and my mom were close?”
“We did lots of things together. She was fun, your mom. I know this is all so horribly sad and depressing, but I want you to know that your mother knew how to have a good time.”
“And my dad?”
Donna picked up her cocktail and sipped from it before answering. “He didn’t get out as much. He liked to read, or so Sally told me. More reserved. He was a policeman, right? Seen the bad side of life for so many years. It probably does something to you, or at least that was my conclusion. Maybe causes you to be unable to have fun. I don’t know. I’m just speculating here,” she added quickly, probably noting the souring look on Michelle’s face. “Your dad is a nice man. Very handsome. Lot of women around here thought your mom was very lucky.”
“I’m sure. So Mom was coming to see you the night she died?”
Donna put down her cocktail. “Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
“So was she?”
“We had talked about it, sure.” She paused, seeming to gather her thoughts. “I actually think we were going to do something. Dinner, maybe a movie. We did that about once a week.”
“It wasn’t all that long ago. Can’t you remember for sure?” Sean said politely. “I mean, the police will want to know for certain.”
Donna picked her drink back up. “Police!”
“My mother’s death is a homicide, Donna. The police are investigating.”
“I thought she had a heart attack or hit her head or something.”