Masquerade in Blue, page 24
When he stopped to glare at me, I said, “My heart’s bleeding for the victim. Keep going.”
Shrugging, he continued, “He called me out in California. Said if they started to build on that property, he’d be sure that my mother, and anyone else who’d listen, got a detailed account of what happened, you know, between Rebecca and me. I told him the land wasn’t mine. Apparently he’d done his homework, because he knew who was getting the property after Catherine died. At the time we talked, she was in the hospital, and it didn’t look like she’d make it. I came back, and she recovered. As much as a person that ill can recover.”
“What would Guthrie have done if they’d started developing the property before Catherine died?”
“I don’t know.”
I couldn’t tell from his bland expression whether he was lying. “The timing of her death was pretty convenient then, wasn’t it?” Shrugging, Martin said, “I guess you could call it that.”
“Some might say too convenient.”
He stood and stepped toward me. “I didn’t kill my aunt, if that’s what you’re getting at. I loved that woman.”
I made a noncommittal noise. “The nurse. Gretchen Warren.” I was half talking to myself because somewhere in the back of my head something clicked and I was trying to coax it out. “She must have been in on it too.” Martin didn’t confirm or deny it and then I knew why that blond woman who’d drifted into the SOW fund-raiser with Guthrie, and quickly detached herself from him, had seemed familiar. “Guthrie’s girlfriend and the nurse are the same person.”
“I didn’t tell you that.”
“Did Guthrie tell you why he wanted you to donate the property?”
“No, but I figured it out.”
“If your father had been alive, could you still have gotten away with it?”
“Sure. Like I said, it’s mine now.”
If that was true, Guthrie had just tumbled from his brief, but promising position at the top of my suspect list. Easy come, easy go. Just as quickly, another person wormed his way up there. “You were pretty much exiled from Foxport as long as your father was alive, weren’t you?”
“So? What’s so great about Foxport?
I shrugged. “What kind of car do you drive in California?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “Who cares?”
“You’ve got a whole stable of cars here.” I lifted the glass of cognac. “Good liquor. You’d pay ten bucks for this in a restaurant.” Sweeping the room with my hand, I added, “All this can be yours. Didn’t take you long to settle in, did it? Amazing how little time it takes to acclimate yourself to the good life.”
Martin chewed on his lower lip and studied me for a moment before he said, “You’ve got some wild theories, McCauley, but you’re a long way from proving any of them.”
“I don’t know about that, Martin.” I glanced at my watch. “Well, I’ve kept you from your company long enough. Thanks for your time and the brandy.” He finished off the brandy in one gulp and turned away as I walked out.
I managed to find my way to the door without anyone’s assistance. For a moment, I stood there and listened to the sounds of the party as a piano accompanied a group of not-so-gifted singers belting out “Oklahoma.” I was just about convinced this wasn’t a memorial service for Catherine.
My rental car was parked at one end of the long-curved drive and as I approached it, I noticed a faint glow beneath the car. At first I thought the moonlight was reflecting off something in an odd way, but as I drew closer, I saw a pair of feet sticking out from under the car and realized the moon wasn’t involved at all. One of the feet was moving back and forth as though keeping time to some silent melody.
I cleared my throat. The foot stopped. “Unless you want two useless kneecaps, move out from there real slow.” The only means I had of doing damage to his knees or any other part of his anatomy was by kicking them. But he didn’t know that, and when he hesitated I didn’t want to give him any time to think so I started to count. “One … two …” fortunately he began to slide out. That threat loses a lot of its punch when you have to go past ten.
As he squirmed his torso out, I relieved him of his flashlight and a small knife, both of which he relinquished without a struggle. Then I grabbed his jacket and yanked him the rest of the way. He squinted as I shone the light in his face.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I really don’t need an oil change just yet,” I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before. He had a small build, a broad nose and a pale, pencil-thin moustache.
“I, uh, I lost something. I was just looking under your car.” His voice was soft and from the way he stammered and averted my gaze, it seemed he wasn’t used to lying. I found that kind of refreshing. There was something about the way he looked up at me with his head slightly bowed that was familiar. “You’re the gardener, aren’t you?” He didn’t deny it. “C’mon.” I pulled him up by his jacket. “Let’s go back to the house and see who’s the least happy to see you.”
I figured he had to be working under orders from either Amelia or Martin and, as luck would have it, they were both coming out the door as we climbed the steps. Amelia appeared strident and Martin confused. When Amelia saw me gripping the gardener’s arm, her mouth dropped slightly but she quickly snapped it back into place and pulled herself up. Martin continued to look perplexed as he pulled the door shut behind him. The four of us stood beneath the porch light for a minute without speaking. Finally I said, “You’ll never guess who I found weeding under my car.” I held up the knife. “It’s bad enough you make him do it in the middle of the night, but all you give him to work with is a lousy pen knife.” I shook my head.
Amelia’s mouth was one thin, tight line. Without taking her eyes from me, she said to the gardener, “It’s all right, Thomas, you can go back to your room.”
I released him and he nodded at Amelia, turned and fled.
“What was he doing? Cutting the brake line?” Martin turned to his mother who continued to regard me with her icy gaze. The porch light shaded her face in harsh angles.
“Well, that’s pretty stupid, isn’t it?” I said. “This isn’t San Francisco or the Grand Tetons. This is Foxport, Illinois. The land is flat and the speed limit’s thirty-five. The odds of my killing myself when the brakes go is pretty slim, isn’t it?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Who said anyone was trying to kill you?”
“No? Then what were you trying to do? Scare me? Okay, I’m scared. Now why do you want me scared?”
“Mother, what’s going on here?”
We ignored him and Amelia’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Mr. McCauley, you’re an unmitigated pain in the ass, but you’re not stupid.”
“Why, thank you,” I said, adding, “You know who killed your husband, don’t you?”
“This is a Novotny affair. It’s not your concern. We take care of our own.”
“That’s exactly the conclusion I was coming to.”
Amelia’s glare intensified. “I’m just about ready to file a complaint against you and your tactics. You’ve no business meddling in our family.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait. And then I’ll tell them how your hired help flattened my tires, busted my windows, snaked my car and was in the process of carrying out this last feeble gesture when I practically tripped over his feet.”
“Why should they believe you?”
I pointed in the direction the gardener had gone. “You think he’s going to lie for you?”
Martin put his hand on his mother’s shoulder, “Mother, what is he talking about?”
“Be quiet, Martin,” she snapped and I thought she was going to bite him.
“Maybe you didn’t kill him, but you’re protecting whoever did.” I shifted my stare to Martin who continued to view the exchange as though he’d walked into a movie an hour late and was trying to figure out the players.
“What the hell is he talking about?”
“Martin …” Amelia was rapidly losing her patience.
Martin moved between his mother and me. “How come you two are the only ones who know what the hell’s going on here?”
“I said be quiet.” The command was all the more threatening for the slow, deliberate way she delivered it.
She wet her lips and turned to me as though Martin weren’t there. “Mr. McCauley, how much do you earn in a year? A good one?”
“You mean what’s it going to cost to keep me from telling the police that your son killed his father?” I was watching Martin when I spoke, expecting to see the shock of disclosure written all over is face. I didn’t.
Instead, he turned to his mother, his face screwed up in confusion. “WHAT?” I almost believed him when he said, “What are you talking about?” He looked at me. “I swear to God, I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“She thinks you killed your father.”
“I know what she thinks.” Then, in a softer tone, he said to his mother, “I just want to know why.”
Amelia shifted uncomfortably. “It’s all right, Martin. I understand and I realize that it was the only way. And,” she shot me a nasty look, “he can’t prove a thing.”
“I know he can’t, because I didn’t do it.”
“Mr. McCauley, why don’t you leave?”
Martin moved close to her, and there was an edge of menace in his voice as he said, “Mother, answer my question. Why do you think I killed him?”
She looked up at him, disconcerted. “You think I don’t know why your father sent you away? Those stories your sister told about you. This is all her fault.” I could barely hear her next words. “She is a liar, isn’t she?”
Martin gazed at her and shook his head in disbelief. “God, yes, Mother. You can’t doubt that.”
His eyes were wide and his tone so sincere that I decided that incredulity he’d displayed earlier could just as easily have been an act. But I figured I’d gotten all I could for the moment and I’d had just about all I could take of the Novotny family. As I turned to leave, I said to Amelia, “One of your kids is a liar, but you’ve got the wrong one.”
I decided it was time to dump all this on Jeff Barlowe. I was beginning to think he knew more than he was letting on. Sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake.
Jeff doesn’t live in Foxport. Most reporters for the Chronicle can’t afford the rent. Most moderately priced P.I.s can’t either, and if it hadn’t been for Louise and her low-rent package, I’d probably be ten miles west of town in the little farming community of Chandler, possibly living in the same apartment complex as Jeff. As I drove out there, I kept testing my brakes and by the time I reached his place was convinced that the gardener hadn’t achieved his objective before I came along.
Jeff’s building has got a security door, but someone insists on propping it open with a brick. I went right up to his third-floor apartment without ringing the bell. The sounds of Monday night football filtered through the door. I knocked. After a minute and some movement, Jeff asked who it was.
“It’s me. Quint.”
“Just a sec.” It seemed to take longer than necessary for him to remove the chain and unlock the deadbolt, but I was patient.
When Jeff finally got the door open, he looked a bit frazzled, but that wasn’t unusual for Jeff. “What’s with the Fort Knox – “ I started, then was stopped cold. I breathed deeply the rich, warm smell, recalling the last time I’d experienced it and thinking this entire episode was forever going to pollute my opinion of chocolate chip cookies.
Chapter 20
IALMOST LOST IT. And when Jeff stood there, one hand on the door knob and the other nervously pushing his hair back from his forehead, and said, “What are you doing here?” I was the closest I’ve ever been to breaking a person’s glasses when they were still on his face.
I summoned up a casual smile. “I smelled the cookies.”
After gaping at me for a minute, Jeff backed up, opening the door wide enough for me to enter. “Sure. They’re almost done. I think.”
I stepped past him into the living room. “Since when did you become so domestic?” I scanned the cluttered room for signs of another person. It was hard to tell.
“What?” He was partially behind the door, holding it open as though preparing for me to leave in a hurry. Or maybe hoping.
“The cookies. I thought your culinary skills stopped just short of Hamburger Helper.”
His laugh was forced and he looked past me as he said, “Yeah, well, you gotta try everything once. I just figured …”
“Forget it, Jeff.” The bedroom door had opened and Julia Ellison stood there, wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. “He knows about me and cookies.”
Jeff hung his head. Then he sighed and with a toss of his head, looked at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this.”
“I made him promise not to tell anyone. Even you.” Then she turned to Jeff. “For God’s sake, shut the door.”
Startled, Jeff obeyed.
“No, Jeff,” I said, “Leave it open. I was just on my way out. I’ve had it with you two.” Jeff didn’t move. “Open it, Jeff. I’m about two breaths away from going through anyway, using one of you as a battering ram.”
Still, he hesitated. “You’ve got to listen …”
“I don’t got to do anything except get out of here before I lose it. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Is this some kind of game? Is she,” I jerked my thumb toward Julia, “calling the shots here? Since when?”
Julia stepped forward. “None of this is Jeff’s fault, so get off his case, okay?”
I whirled on her, and she stepped back, eyes wide. “I’m not getting off anyone’s case. I’ve been used, goddammit, and I’m pissed off. I’ve been running my ass off all day and the two of you have been shacked up here – “
“Hold it,” Jeff said and at the same time Julia uttered something about my guttertuned mind.
“I’m not going to hold it,” I said to Jeff. “You used me and I don’t like it. And you,” I turned to Julia, “you owe me a car. What the hell are you two doing to me?”
“Nothing, Quint. I swear I didn’t know she was alive until I got back from your office this morning. She’d walked here from Foxport.”
As if lending validity to that statement, Julia sneezed. “That’s true. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Jeff began to pick papers up off the battered sofa, tucking in the blue ribbed spread he used as its cover. “C’mon, Quint, sit down.” He tried to take my arm. “Let’s talk. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I don’t like being used.”
Julia sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Forget it, Jeff, he isn’t interested in the truth. Only in his fragile ego.”
I was stunned and I gaped at Julia for a moment. She didn’t blink. I finally found my voice. “You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve talking about egos here, Miss I’m too important to go to jail’ Ellison. And don’t give me this higher cause crap.”
Jeff had disappeared into the hallway that was his kitchen and now emerged with a can of beer. “Here, Quint, drink this. You’ll feel better.”
“The hell I will.”
“Look,” Jeff said, one hand on his hip and the other extended to me with the can. “Go ahead and rave for a while. I guess you’ve got the right. But when you’re finished, you’ve got to listen to us. You know something’s wrong with this whole investigation. You know she didn’t kill either Novotny or Reaves. And whether you’ll admit it, it’s bugging you just as much as us.”
I looked at Julia. She was waiting for my reaction and I was unable to read her expression. Maybe it was somewhere between hopeful and hostile. Finally, I snatched the can from Jeff and threw myself down on the couch. As always, the cushion felt lumpy and the springs tenuous. Jeff appeared visibly relieved and Julia sat in a fan-back rattan chair. How fitting.
I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in her direction. She wrinkled her nose, but didn’t say anything. Jeff sat on the opposite end of the couch, holding his own can of beer.
I took a long swallow of the beer, which, at this point, was more to my taste than cognac. Then I took a deep breath and asked Julia, “What about your buddy, Rob?”
Frowning, she said, “Well, when I thought about it, I realized he must have been the person who gave me away to the cops.”
“What made you decide it wasn’t me?”
She studied the back of her hand for a moment, twisting the silver filigree ring on her middle finger. “I guess I figured whoever sold me out, did it for the money. Rebecca’s ten thousand dollars. Rob’s got lots of money problems right now. It made sense.”
I ignored the fact that she’d come to this conclusion based on someone’s bad qualities rather than my good ones. “Don’t suppose this hit you before you put my car in the drink?” When she didn’t respond, I added, “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”
This time she looked me straight on and said, “Yes, it was.”
I glanced at Jeff then back to Julia. “Well, I guess if a human being’s expendable, then a car must be too.”
Julia just stared at me, cool and composed. I interpreted her silence as agreement. “When we were at your friend’s house, you got a call warning you. If that wasn’t Rob, then who was it?”
She shifted. “That was someone else who knows about me.”
“Who?”
She blinked and cleared her throat. “The original Fox.”
“Who’s that?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. It could get a good person in trouble.”
“I thought you trusted me.”
“That’s not the point. I gave my word.”
I remembered how I trusted Elaine, but still wouldn’t tell her. But, damn I wanted to know. “Can you give me his initials?” A smile pulled at her mouth. “Sorry.”
I regarded Julia for a moment. She appeared a little more vulnerable, but still too sure of herself for someone in her situation. Sneezing again, she pulled a tissue from her jeans pocket to wipe her nose.
