“Listen, Jackie, it’s quite possible you misinterpreted what you heard and that there’s an acceptable explanation for it.”
“I have more to tell you.”
“Oh.” What else could I say? I mean, so far things were not good, and I had no doubt they were about to get worse.
“On Saturday—this past Saturday—Derwin was over at the apartment. We’d made plans to spend the day together earlier in the week, and while I wasn’t looking forward to having him there, I didn’t want to cancel, either. I think I may have been hoping he’d say something about that phone call—something that would convince me I was mistaken in my suspicions. The subject never came up.
“At any rate, around one o’clock I went out to the store to pick up some groceries. But almost immediately I remembered that I’d left my wallet in my other bag, and, of course, I had to go back for it. Well, Derwin was in the living room when I came in, and apparently he hadn’t heard me, because he was dialing the phone. The instant he saw me he hung up—and turned beet red. If ever guilt was written on a man’s face, Desiree, this was it. Anyhow, he had this piece of paper in his lap, and he quickly shoved it into his wallet.”
There was something in the way Jackie related this last bit of information that led me to believe I had not heard the end of that piece of paper.
“And?” I prompted.
Shifting in her chair, Jackie stopped wringing the bejesus out of her skirt now. “And when Derwin was in the shower that night, I took the paper out of his wallet.” It was obvious I was expected to disapprove of such a sneaky maneuver, since she wasted no time in defending it. “I was so upset by then that I had to do it. Don’t you understand?”
“The thing I don’t understand is how you were able to contain yourself all those hours.”
She flashed me a grateful smile. “I copied down what was written on it.” And reaching into her skirt pocket—the one without the tissue supply—Jackie handed me a slip of paper. “Gale,” it said. And right below this was a Manhattan phone number.
“Have you tried the number?” I asked.
“Not yet; I’m afraid to. I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t—if you take my meaning. Do you think I should call?”
“I think you should let me see what I can find out.”
Jackie’s face mirrored her relief. “You have no idea how much I wanted you to make that offer. I’d like you to hold off for a while, though, if you don’t mind. I’m not too sure I’m prepared yet for whatever it is you could learn. Okay?”
“Of course. Just say when.”
“I will.” Getting to her feet, Jackie thanked me—ad infinitum—after which she left the office. She must have made it at least halfway down the hall, too. But seconds later I looked up to see her in the doorway.
“When,” she said.
Chapter 16
I stared down at the paper in front of me for a long while, reluctant to dial the number that could expose the truth.
Did I really think there might be an explanation for those phone calls of Derwin’s?—other than the obvious one, I mean.
Let’s just say I wasn’t optimistic.
Still, there was a chance—although, granted, a tiny one—that the man wasn’t playing house with some floozy. (I regarded anyone with the gall to steal Jackie’s sweetie as an out-and-out floozy.)
At any rate, after frittering away another few minutes, I willed myself to act. I had to get to the bottom of this. No matter what.
My fingers were crossed when I lifted the receiver.
A woman—a mature woman, judging by the voice—answered the telephone and announced that this was Naturally Yours something-or-other. The recitation was so quick that I didn’t catch it all.
“Umm, is Gale there?”
She sounded rather perturbed with this familiarity. “Dr. Wright won’t be in until later today.”
How do you like that! It was a real stretch, attempting to imagine that cheapskate landing himself a doctor. And even if she wasn’t a doctor doctor—which I was willing to bet she wasn’t—well, anyway, my poor Jackie.
“When would you suggest I try to reach her?”
“Around three.”
“I’ll—”
“Wait a second. Who did you say you wanted to talk to?”
“Dr. Gale Wright.” This telephone person certainly didn’t have much of an attention span, did she?
“Dr. Wright is a he.”
“Gale Wright?”
“Listen,” the woman snapped—she managed to bite back the “stupid,” which you could tell took some doing—“didn’t you ever watch that old Lucille Ball series where the boss was played by Gale Gordon? I’m referring to the actor Gale Gordon.”
I made the admission timidly. “Uh, yes, now that you mention it, it . . . uh . . . sounds familiar.” Well, this information opened up a second disturbing possibility. Derwin could be bisexual. Or maybe not even bi. Maybe he decided that at this stage of his life it was time he followed his true leanings. My poor, poor Jackie!
And then it occurred to me: Perhaps Derwin had been speaking to Dr. Wright on some medical matter. “By the way, what exactly is the name of your company? I want to write it down in my address book.”
“Naturally Yours Hair Replacements,” I was apprised in a tone that gave me frostbite.
I’ll be damned! And also hallelujah! “There’s something else I—”
“One moment,” the woman said curtly. “I have another call.”
It was obvious this lady regarded me as a very large pain in the lower part of her anatomy. And I was a little suspicious that she might accidentally cut me off—on purpose, of course. I actually felt a little guilty when she got back on the line.
“What more did you want to know, madam?”
“Umm, I don’t suppose my friend Derwin Snyder would happen to be there now.”
“There is no Derwin Snyder employed here.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me. Mr. Snyder is a customer—he’s the one who recommended Dr. Wright to me. The reason I’m asking is that I’ve been trying to contact Mr. Snyder for the past two days, and it’s quite important. I hate to bother you, but I’d really appreciate it if you could check and see if he has an appointment today.”
The telephone person clicked off without a word, and again I had no idea whether she’d hung up or merely put me on hold. But she made a fast return. “Mr. Snyder’s appointment isn’t until later in the week. And just for your information, at Naturally Yours we do not refer to our clients as customers.”
And now there was no doubt what the click signified.
I had to stop myself from running out to Jackie and screaming the wonderful news. But, after all, these were professional offices. I settled for buzzing her.
“Jackie?”
“You’ve found out already,” she anticipated, her attitude anything but upbeat.
“Yup. And it’s cause to celebrate!”
“I’ll be there in two seconds.” She was, too. Or pretty close to it, anyhow.
She strode in, beaming. “Tell me,” she demanded, leaning so far across my desk that we were almost rubbing noses.
“Sit down, why don’t you?”
“I can’t. I’m too keyed up.”
“This Gale that you practically had Derwin running off to the South Seas with? It so happens she’s a he. A Dr. Gale Wright. And, no, Derwin was not attempting to seduce the man—in spite of that ‘funny’ voice and those insincere little chuckles you thought you heard.”
“Gale Wright,” Jackie mused, her forehead pleated in concentration. “Gale Wright. I know that name . . . Of course!” The forehead smoothed out. “Gale used to be Derwin’s next-door neighbor. He has some kind of hair-replacement facility.” Her face was barely large enough to accommodate the grin that followed.
“Naturally Yours Hair Replacements. That’s the place your much-maligned guy’s been calling. He evidently wants to surprise you with a new, improved Derwin.”<
br />
Jackie straightened up now, although her palms remained flat on the desktop. “I can hardly believe it. That must mean he’s getting a transplant.”
“Could be. Although they may also do hairpieces there.” This seemed far more likely, considering Derwin’s—I’ll be kind for once and call it “frugal”—nature. I mean, while a good hairpiece isn’t cheap, it’s certainly a lot less costly than a surgical procedure.
“I’d settle for one of those. A decent-looking one.”
I choked back a guffaw. Derwin happens to be the proud owner of a thick silver mop—the instant he dons the world’s most obvious toupee, that is. Yet in spite of this, Jackie’s been known to brag about his great head of hair. I never could figure that one out. It has to do with love or loyalty or something, I suppose.
“I’d better go back to work, Dez,” she said then. “But I can’t thank you enough for this. You’re a whiz, do you know that?”
Modesty induced me to protest. “All I did was make a phone call.”
“Never mind. You saved my sanity, that’s what you did. A hug before I get out of here?”
I stood up obediently and went around the desk, and Jackie—who’s a pretty fair-sized woman—threw both arms around me and squeezed. I guess she put something extra into that squeeze to demonstrate her gratitude. But anyhow, she knocked the wind out of me.
Another example of no good deed going unpunished.
Chapter 17
David showed up at my office at just after six.
Most likely reflective of today’s unseasonable ninety-degree temperature, his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder. Also, his shirt was plastered against him, and the top two buttons were open, his tie peeking out of his jacket pocket. Even the broad shoulders seemed to droop. He looked tired and disheveled—and every bit as handsome as I remembered. I mean, the suit was navy and the shirt light blue. And, no question about it, blue was definitely David Hearn’s color.
“How are you, Desiree?” he inquired after taking a seat. He was smiling, but he appeared nervous. Maybe I was projecting, though. After all, he should have been nervous.
“Just fine, David. And you?”
He continued to smile. “Curious. Has something happened that I should know about?”
“Actually, I wanted to see you regarding a couple of matters you’re already familiar with. But first let me get something else out of the way. Would you mind telling me where you were on Saturday at around twelve-thirty?”
“I was home, working on a brief. But if that requires verification, I don’t have any. Why do you ask, anyway? The police haven’t even been around about that one.”
“I’m afraid I can’t say any more just yet, but I’ll be able to fill you in soon. What we should discuss right now is that gambling debt you neglected to mention.”
“What gambling debt?”
I sincerely hoped for his sake that David’s game wasn’t poker. Involuntarily—I’m sure—he had clenched his hands into fists, and this vein at his left temple was bulging.
“Look, I know you owe a substantial amount of money and that you’re being pressured to pay up.”
“Wrong,” David shot back. “I did owe the money. Repeat: did. A friend lent me the cash I needed to get those people off my back. But my being in financial straits weeks ago has nothing at all to do with either Edward’s death or the attack on John. And if that was your reason for summoning me here, I have to tell you that I resent it.”
“I can’t understand why you didn’t level with me.”
“Because, Desiree—and I don’t want to be rude—my gambling losses aren’t any of your business. As I said, they’re totally unrelated to your investigation.” And now the David I’d previously responded to so favorably put in a brief, transitory appearance. “Besides,” he said, grinning, “why should I provide anyone with the kind of information that would make me a prime suspect? I may be my mother’s dumbest son, but I’m her smartest, too.”
“Umm, you also led me to believe you didn’t care too much for Shawna Riley. In fact, as I recall, you had some pretty uncomplimentary things to say about her.”
The mention of his lady love seemed to temporarily mute him; it was a good four or five seconds before David made his unconvincing assertion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come now. I understand the two of you have become a couple.”
“That’s absolutely false.”
“I have statements from three people attesting that they’ve seen you together acting . . . extremely chummy.”
“They were mistaken. Or else they lied.”
Well, nothing ventured . . .
“You’re being very foolish,” I lectured. “How long before the police learn about you and Shawna—if they haven’t found out about it already?”
“Even if we are seeing each other—which we’re not—how does that connect to the assaults on Edward and John?”
“You can’t be that naive, David, and I’d like to think you don’t regard me as being that stupid. After all, who has a better motive for disposing of those two men than the person or persons next in line to inherit from Uncle Victor? Right now that would be Shawna and Scott. But if you and Shawna should marry, you’d join them at the top of the list.”
“I would, wouldn’t I?—if there were anything between Shawna and me.”
I pretended he hadn’t spoken. “You’d no doubt be the odds-on favorite, too, considering that you’re so much in debt. I’m assuming your friend expects to be repaid.”
“Yes, of course, but he insists that I hold off until my finances improve.”
“I don’t imagine you can depend on those homicide detectives taking this into account, though. So it’s no wonder that you wanted to keep the relationship a secret. Tell me, whose idea was it originally—Shawna’s?”
“We b—” David stopped cold. There was no humor in the brief laugh that followed. “Christ! I was never any good at this kind of thing—this cat-and-mouse stuff.” You can say that again! “Anyhow,” he added philosophically, “the truth was bound to come out sooner or later.”
“So it was a joint decision to conceal your involvement?”
David nodded. “We both recognize that I’m in a pretty vulnerable position. Even if the police should accept that my friend isn’t pressing me for the money, they might still peg me as some sort of compulsive gambler. Particularly if they’re aware of my dad’s track record—no pun intended, by the way—which is very likely the case. They’d be wrong, however. I haven’t so much as bought a lottery ticket since I got myself into that bind.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I hope it continues.”
“It will. You can take my word for it. Uh, Desiree? You’re not going to repeat our conversation to the authorities, are you? I’m not quite ready yet to deal with all of this on an official level.”
“Relax. I don’t see any need to supply them with this information—certainly not at the present time. Naturally, there’s always the chance that a situation could crop up that would compel me to tell what I know. But I don’t anticipate anything like that. I should warn you, though, that the investigating detectives may already be one step ahead of me.”
“Yeah, well, maybe not. Maybe I’ll luck out long enough for them to catch the real killer.” And then David looked at me intently. “You can appreciate now why I felt that I had to keep quiet about those things, can’t you? And they honestly don’t have anything to do with your investigation.”
I had to concede that in his shoes I’d almost certainly have behaved in the same way. “I not only can appreciate it, but if I want to be fair—and, what the hell, I may as well be—I probably don’t blame you.”
Mumbling his thanks, David started to rise. “If there’s nothing else . . .”
“I think that pretty much covers it.”
He headed for the door, then spun around. “As long as I’ve suddenly become swept up in this great blaze of truth, I can mak
e a couple of admissions to you that I couldn’t before, admissions that are actually exculpatory, for a change.” Apparently slightly embarrassed, he grinned. “Oops, that was the attorney in me coming out. At any rate, last Monday, when someone took that shot at John, I wasn’t home alone watching Letterman as I claimed. I was at Shawna’s; I spent the night there. I can also provide you with an alibi for Saturday afternoon at this point—for whatever reason I need one. Shawna was at my place on Saturday—she came over at just past noon. We had something to eat at the apartment, and she spent the remainder of the day in the living room reading, while I was closeted in the bedroom with that brief.”
Which alibis, of course, were every bit as reliable as the one Shawna shared with her brother.
Chapter 18
After David Hearn left the office I recognized that I was probably in a worse position now than I’d been in before—as far as narrowing the list of suspects, I’m talking about. After all, David’s involvement with Shawna put him a step closer to Uncle Victor’s assets, moving him up a notch to tie the twins for the role of most likely perpetrator. What’s more, like them, he didn’t have an alibi worth a damn for any of the crucial times.
I felt as if I were moving backwards. I mean, by now I should have been able to eliminate someone, for God’s sake!
Before going up to the apartment, I paid a visit to my neighborhood D’Agostino’s. I was tired, so I restricted my purchases to the essentials. Your definition of “essentials,” however, may vary slightly from mine. For example, I have always considered appropriate for this category such foodstuffs as Sara Lee cheesecake, pistachio nuts, and, of course, Ha¨agen-Dazs macadamia brittle. Which is not to say I didn’t also pick up a number of other edibles that evening, along with paper goods and cleaning supplies.
When I got home—surprise!—a message from Pop was waiting for me. As soon as I’d established it was that impossible little man—which took all of a millisecond—I put my fingers in my ears. The purpose of this being as much to guard against a weakening in my resolve to steer clear of him as it was to muffle that whiny voice.
Murder Can Cool Off Your Affair Page 10