“Don’t call me that.You lost your privilege of calling me your mother when you refused to help me all those years ago.”
“I see you haven’t had your morning Bloody Mary yet.”I resist rolling my eyes.“My girlfriend and I would like to speak to you.It’s about something important.We won’t be a moment.”
Mom eyes Alissa.“You must be the lovely Laurie I’ve heard so much about.”
“Laurie and I broke up over ten years ago, Mom.The day of Dad’s funeral.”
She squints at me.“Really?I didn’t know that.”
“I told you about it.Around the time I was trying to get you to stop drinking.”I kick at an empty vodka bottle on the floor.“Clearly neither communication was successful.”
Alissa steps forward.“My name is Alissa, ma’am.Nice to meet you.”She extends her hand.
Mom sneers.“Not much for shaking hands, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.Of course.”Alissa drops her arm to her side.“I didn’t mean to offend.It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs.Hathaway.”
“It’s Ms.Edwin.I changed my name after the divorce.Just call me Marty.It’s easier.”
“Of course.Nice to meet you, Marty.”Alissa smiles.
I take another step inside.“Can we sit down in your living room?”
“Sure.”Mom points to a ratty orange sofa.“I’ll just have the housekeeper put some hors d’oeuvres out.”
“Funny.”I sweep a few breadcrumbs off the couch and sit down.
Alissa sits next to me, her jaw clenched.
An armchair riddled with cigarette burns sits across from the couch.I gesture toward it.“Would you join us?”
She falls into the armchair, groaning.“Now what, may I ask, do I owe the honor of this visit?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath in.“Do you remember the day Dad died?”
“Of course.”She scowls.“The day I was kicked off the alimony pony.Joyous occasion.”
I tent my fingers.“You seemed to think foul play was involved.You didn’t believe the coroner was telling the truth.That Dad died of a heart attack.”
“That’s right.”Mom grabs a bottle of red wine off the coffee table and takes a swig.“Still don’t.”
“Right.”I draw in a breath.“Do you remember the last time you saw him alive?Was he acting strange?Maybe acting nervous about something?”
“What the hell does that matter?”
I shrug.“Well, wouldn’t you be a little anxious if you were marked for death?”
“I’d fucking welcome it.But let me think.”She reaches for the wine bottle again but then seems to think better of it.“Last time I saw the bastard was a while after the divorce was finalized.Not too long before he kicked the bucket, come to think of it.He came over to that rathole of an apartment, said he had a few things that he’d left in one of my boxes.As if he hadn’t picked me clean enough.”
“Was he being weird?”
She scratches her chin.“Come to think of it, he was.Of course, he’d been acting weird ever since he passed that HOUSE act.To this day I don’t understand what he was thinking.He told me I didn’t understand what his goals were, even after people started losing their jobs.”
“Let’s not worry about the bill.What about that day?When he came to pick up his things?”
Mom nods.“He was looking over his shoulder a lot.I figured it was because I was in a rough neighborhood, but even once he was inside, he was doing it.He nearly jumped out of his skin when my phone rang.”
“Did he say anything weird?”
