"Some people might think it wasuglier to alter the facts of a man's death."

"Some people might think it,"she said with a grande dame expression. "Not many of them would say it inmy presence. In any case the fact was not altered, only the report of it. I'vehad to live with the fact of my husband's suicide."

"Are you perfectly certain that it is afact?"

"Perfectly."

"I've just been talking to the manwho handled the case, Lieutenant Hoffman. He says your husband shot himself byaccident while he was cleaning an automatic pistol."

"That was the story we agreed upon.Lieutenant Hoffman naturally sticks to it. I see no point in your trying tochange it at this late date."

"Unless Mr. Deloney was murdered.Then there would be some point."

"No doubt, but he was notmurdered." Her eyes came up to mine, and they hadn't changed, except thatthey may have become a little harder.

"I've heard rumors that he was, as far away asCalifornia."

"Who's been spreading such nonsense?"

"Lieutenant Hoffman's daughter Helen.She claimed she knew a witness to the killing. The witness may have beenherself."

The insecurity that had touched her face changed intocold anger. "She has no right to tell such lies. I'll have herstopped!"

"She's been stopped," I said. "Somebodystopped her Friday night, with a gun. Which is why I'm here."

"I see. Where in California was she killed?"

"Pacific Point. It's on the coast south of LosAngeles."

Her eyes flinched, ever so slightly."I'm afraid I never heard of it. I'm naturally sorry that the girl isdead, though I never knew her. But I can assure you that her death had nothingto do with Luke. You're barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Archer."

"I wonder."

"There's no need to. My husband wroteme a note before he shot himself which made the whole thing very clear.Detective Hoffman brought it to me himself. No one knew it existed except himand his superiors. I hadn't intended to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because it was ugly. In effect heblamed me and my family for what he intended to do. He was in financial hotwater, he'd been gambling in stocks and other things, his business wasoverextended. We refused to help him, for reasons both personal and practical.His suicide was an attempt to strike back at us. It succeeded, even though wealtered the facts, as you put it." She touched her flat chest. "I washurt, as I was meant to be."

"Was Senator Osborne alive at thetime?"

"I'm afraid you don't know yourhistory," she chided me. "My father died on December 14, 1936,three-and-a-half years before my husband killed himself. At least my father wasspared that humiliation."

"You referred to family."

"I meant my sister Tish and my lateUncle Scott, the guardian of our trust. He and I were responsible for refusingfurther assistance to Luke. The decision was essentially mine. Our marriage hadended."

"Why?"

"The usual reason, I believe. I don'tcare to discuss it." She rose and went to the window and stood therestraight as a soldier looking out. "A number of things ended for me in1940. My marriage, and then my husband's life, and then my sister's. Tish diedin the summer of that same year, and I cried for her all that fall. And nowit's fall again," she said with a sigh. "We used to ride together inthe fall. I taught her to ride when she was five years old and I was ten. Thatwas before the turn of the century."

Her mind was wandering off into remoterand less painful times. I said:

"Forgive me for laboring the point,Mrs. Deloney, but I have to ask you if that suicide note still exists."

She turned, trying to smooth the marks ofgrief from her face. They persisted. "Of course not. I burned it. You cantake my word as to its contents."

"It isn't your word that concerns me so much. Areyou absolutely certain your husband wrote it?"

"Yes. I couldn't be mistaken about hishandwriting."

"A clever forgery can fool almost anybody."

"That's absurd. You're talking the language ofmelodrama."

"We live it every day, Mrs. Deloney."

"But who would forge a suicide note?"

"It's been done, by other murderers."

She flung back her white head and lookedat me down her delicate curved nose. She resembled a bird, even in the sound ofher voice:

"My husband was not murdered."

"It seems to me you're resting agreat deal of weight on a single handwritten note which might have beenforged."

"It was not forged. I know that byinternal evidence. It referred to matters that only Luke and I were privyto."

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009