Death on the Diagonal Read Online Free Page A

stifled a self-conscious groan. Shopping for clothes had never been one of her favorite pastimes; there were too many choices; blue was “in,” then it wasn’t; skirts were pencil thin, then flouncy; ditto with blouses and jackets and dresses: Who knew what to choose when designers and manufacturers seemed in such a state of flux?
    “You’re certain King Wenstarin Farms is insured by the Dartmouth Group?” she asked as she edged her feet back off the desk and hid them under her chair.
    “Oh, please, dear girl, there is nothing I don’t know when it comes to Newcastle’s idle rich. Of course Papa Collins—that would be Todd—has worked hard for his filthy lucre, as did his father before him . . . although one might say that importing Irish whiskey during the early twenties at the height of the Volstead Act was frowned upon by some, most notably the FBI and that dear dead man, J. Edgar Hoover.”
    Belle bolted up straight in her seat. “You mean Collins’s dad was a bootlegger? King Wenstarin Irish Whiskey? That was bootlegged?”
    Kerr rolled his eyes. “I think I like the way you pronounced that nasty word more than I liked the way you said fire . Yes, mia Bella, old man Collins was not in the most legitimate of trades. Where have you spent your life, my child? Everyone knows King Wenstarin started out as illegal hooch and that both of Todd Collins’s uncles evaporated from the face of the earth when they tried to expand their market share by moving their product from Boston to New York. Of course that was before Todd was born. After Prohibition, Collins père, the only member of the family not to have been Tommy-gunned out of the picture, managed to turn the business into a legitimate importer of ‘fine’ spirits. Then Todd took over King Wenstarin and turned it into the multimillion-dollar corporation it is today.”
    Belle sighed. “ Multimillion dollar . . . I like the ring of that. I wish Rosco and I could work our bank account in that direction.”
    “Be careful what you wish for, dear child. Todd’s offspring are not to be admired or imitated. The three are nothing but a bunch of dilettantes. All they know about money is how to spend it, and spend it, and spend it. The eldest daughter, that would be the oft-married Fiona, used to pal around with your former competitor, Thompson Briephs, so I imagine your friend Sara might provide some pithy insights into the woman.”
    Belle nodded. Thompson Briephs had been the crossword editor at the Herald before he was murdered a few years back. It was the case that had introduced Belle to the man who would become her husband, and had also cemented a lasting friendship with Thompson’s octogenarian mother, Sara Crane Briephs, a woman Belle had come to view as her surrogate grandmother.
    “Wait,” she said, suddenly crinkling her brow, “You mean Fiona Collins and Thompson Briephs were an item? Before he died?”
    “Well, dear girl, he wouldn’t have made much of an item, as you put it, after he was dead and gone, now would he? The Collins tots are a wild bunch, but I think necrophilia might be pushing the envelope, even for them.”
    “Is their mother still around?”
    “ Around? Yes, but discarded long ago. You know how such familial relationships work in the moneyed set, my angel. Toddie has his millions, then reaches the fine old age of fifty-plus and starts shopping for a trophy wife. Long-suffering mother of his offspring is unceremoniously shown the exit, and Miss Twentysomething moves into the Big House instead. That first little bride took Mr. Todd for a pretty penny and skedaddled to Miami’s South Beach and a stable of Cuban houseboys—or so I hear. Todd is now on wifey number three, a comely lass named Ryan. Of course, even she will fade in time. It’s now two years or so post-white-gown-and-lace-veil. So I’ve been told that at the age of thirty-seven, she’s interviewing only the best of cosmetic surgeons.” Kerr clasped the palms of