Bloodied Ivy by Robert Goldsborough Page A

she said, making a face.
    “Which means of course that Markham’s death was a boon to Potter.”
    “Now, wait just a minute, Archie,” Elena said, angling forward in her chair. “You’ve been around violence for so long you think it’s everywhere, which is understandable. And what with Walter Cortland whispering murder in your ear, I’m not surprised that you add two and two and get seven. Potter may be a jerk—hell, he is a jerk—but he’s hardly a murderer. Remember, you’re not in New York now.”
    “This may come as a shock to you, but the act of murder isn’t confined to the five boroughs and a few blue-collar suburbs.”
    “Oh, I know. It’s just that—let’s stop right where we are,” she interrupted herself. “I brought you over here to ask you questions, and for the last thirty minutes, I’ve been doing almost nothing but answering yours.”
    “You’re right, and I appreciate it,” I said, grinning and standing up. “I promise that at another time I’ll do the answering, but I really have to go now, and besides, I’ve taken a lot of your valuable time. Can I ask a favor?”
    “You may ask, but I won’t guarantee anything.”
    “Please, for now, don’t tell anybody who I am.”
    “You’re absolutely convinced it’s murder, aren’t you?” Elena said, rising and folding her arms as if she were suddenly cold.
    “Call it a strong hunch.”
    “All right, Mr. Archie Goodwin,” she said, no longer smiling. “I’m not happy with all this secrecy of yours, especially after I’ve been candid with you. But I know enough about your reputation to know that you must have reasons, and besides, anybody Lily likes has got to be all right. I’ll keep your secret. At least for now.”
    “And in return,” I said, “I’ll buy you dinner the next time you’re in New York. That’s a promise. And I’ll also give your best to Lily.”
    “I accept the invitation. And tell Lily I pledge to call her soon.” We parted with a businesslike handshake, which made two of those I’d had with attractive women in one day. Whatever became of the friendly embrace? I walked back to Cortland’s office in Richardson Hall, deciding on the way that I would not tell him Elena knew who I was. No sense complicating the situation unnecessarily.
    The auburn-haired greeter with the nice nose was still manning her desk in the Political Science Department reception area. She was on the phone, but when she saw me, she smiled in recognition, mouthed “He’s expecting you,” and motioned me to go on back. I made a mental note to shake hands with her on the way out.
    Cortland was at his desk grading a stack of papers. He glanced up as I walked in, and his face looked a question mark at me.
    “Well,” I said, easing into the guest chair, “I can’t honestly tell you I’ve made any great discoveries today, but I can say that I haven’t ruled out murder.”
    He dropped his red pencil on the desk blotter. “And how did your meeting with Elena Moreau go?”
    “All right,” I said casually. “You said earlier that she and Markham had been…friendly?”
    “Oh, yes,” he said firmly, nodding. “I never discussed his private life with Hale, mind you, but I knew, like everyone else, that they were very close friends.”
    “Meaning lovers?”
    Cortland cleared his throat. “I really haven’t the faintest idea. You’d have to ask her that.”
    I pushed on, undaunted. “Do you have any idea how Elena Moreau felt about Gretchen Frazier?”
    “None whatever,” Cortland said in an offended tone.
    “Okay. You mentioned when we first met that you’re executor of Markham’s estate. I assume you have a copy of his will?”
    “Why, yes, I do. At home,” he said absently. “Why?”
    “I’d like to see it. If you could make a copy and mail it to Mr. Wolfe in New York, it might very well be of some help.”
    Cortland looked doubtful, but after I assured him the document would not be seen by anyone other than