“You never did tell me how you and Vinny cracked the code on Hall’s ledger,” she said.
“It was surprisingly easy,” I said. “Vinny said such codes are often based on a keyword or phrase.”
“Well, then, what was the keyword or phrase Victoria Hall used?” said Erin.
I laughed out loud.
“You ready?” I said.
“Go on,” said Erin.
“Victoria Hall was a lot of things but most of all, she was very full of herself. She thought nobody was smarter than she — in her own mind anyhow.”
“Right, Victoria the great,” said Erin, laughing.
“That’s exactly correct,” I said. “Hall’s keyword was ‘Victoria is great!”
Erin laughed out loud and I joined her.
We laughed so hard, I nearly fell out of my chair.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said Erin, looking into my eyes. “When I lost my daughter, I thought my life was over. Shortly after, I lost my mom and wanted to die. Then I lost John and the pain was unbearable. I miss them all tremendously, but I know now that my life is just beginning. The best is yet ahead.”
I looked deeply into her hazel eyes — looked straight through to her soul.
“I thought the same when my wife was killed by an arsonist,” I said. “I’d been numb ever since, but I am no longer. After the experiences I just went through, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. There’s something about getting so close to death but making it out OK — something about encountering a human being as lovely as you — that I know, too, that my life is just beginning.”
Erin smiled, then leaned across the table and kissed me — sending an electric jolt through every corpuscle in my being.
She walked around the table and sat on my lap with her arms around my neck and kissed me again.
As my Irish grandfather liked to say, I was in for some wondrous whiskey that summer.
Wicked Is the Whiskey: A Sean McClanahan Mystery (Sean McClanahan Mysteries Book 1) Page 22