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“So, they were getting divorced?” he asked.
“Not sure that it’s been filed, but that’s the rumor. Apparently, Ginnie caught him cheating on her with Delilah—have you ever heard such a perfect name for a mistress?”
“Were they still sharing the house?”
“As far as I know, although gossip says he was sleeping in one of the guest rooms. They say never move from the family home until the divorce is decided. Gives you leverage.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been married.”
“Me, neither. But I have more than one friend, including Fiona Fowler, who has.” Jessica looked up to the back porch. “Sudie, any chance we have something I could take to Ginnie Thompson?”
“When I heard he’d been killed, I thought you might like something to take so I thawed one of the frozen lasagnas. Ginnie loves my lasagna.”
Jessica laughed. “Who doesn’t?” Turning to Thorn, she said. “Truly. Sudie makes the best lasagna in town.”
“Why are we taking her lasagna?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s a small town; something has happened; there will be food. It’s like a commandment or something.”
He laughed. They headed up into the house.
“Wow. I’m no interior designer, but this is gorgeous,” said Thorn with obvious admiration.
“And she did this to cook frozen meals from the grocery store,” said Sudie with obvious disdain. “It’s really a chef’s kitchen and far too grand for me, but you ought to see the caterers when we have big to-dos. They are in heaven.”
“I take it the basket has the lasagna?” Jessica said, grabbing a pretty basket that had been bought for occasions such as this.
“Yes. She just has to heat it up. I also put in a loaf of garlic bread wrapped in foil. She’ll need to bake that. Oh, and I whipped up some of those cannoli she likes so well, too.”
Thorn took the basket from her, receiving an approving nod from Sudie, who grabbed Tracer saying, “Mama’s got to work. She’ll be back soon. Let’s go get you a good boy treat.”
Jessica groaned. “She makes those from scratch, too. I swear I have to walk several extra miles a day to keep Tracer from getting too chubby.”
“She whipped up cannoli?” he asked.
“Absolutely. I brought a bag of Oreos into the house when she first moved in. I thought she was going to have heart failure. She then ‘whipped up’ the best chocolate cookie outsides with the most amazing filling. She changes the filling out depending on her mood and my level of stress. My favorite is peanut butter. It is divine. But be warned, once you have one of Sudie’s cookies, you’ll never eat a commercial one again.”
Getting into the SUV, she hit the control for the garage door opener and she backed out, turning to the right and heading to the home of Ginnie Thompson, Gregory’s widow.
With the basket on the back seat of the Range Rover, Jessica drove Thorn over to the Thompson’s house which overlooked the harbor. Sudie wasn’t wrong. Ginnie would make out far better as a widow than she would have as an ex-wife.
Ginnie answered the front door, wearing a pair of wide-leg black pants, a silk sweater in black with a block print of barn red, blue, moss green, and mustard on the front, and fashionable black flats.
“Jessica, how nice of you to come by. This must be Detective Wilder.” Ginnie followed Thorn’s eyes as he took in her outfit. “I know; not exactly widow’s weeds, but it’s stylish and in keeping with the current status of my relationship with Gregory.”
“I wasn’t judging…” started Thorn.
“Yes, you were,” said Ginnie, laughing, “but I don’t care. My dead husband—god, I like the sound of that—was a prick and a bastard of the first order. I’m glad he’s dead, and I get all the money and property.”
“Most likely, at least that which was accumulated during the time you were married,” said Thorn.
“Nope. The dumb fuck never changed his will. It all comes to me, and I get the pleasure of evicting that stupid sow from the townhouse our marital assets paid for, as well as taking all the expensive jewelry and the car he bought for her.”
“You sound pretty vindictive,” said Thorn.
“Do I? I suppose I do. The fact is, I learned to hate that weasel over the last six months, and I don’t care who knows. Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? Come on into the house. Do I smell Sudie’s lasagna?”
Jessica chuckled. “You do indeed, as well as garlic bread and some of her cannoli.”
