by Elaine Macko
“Jackie, we are all so very sorry about what happened to your husband, but you are upsetting Millie and her family. She has no interest in finding out whether she is or isn’t your biological child, and the truth is, I doubt very much that she is. As a matter of fact, I know she’s not.” I paused to gather my thoughts. “You seem to have come to the conclusion that Millie and Andrea were switched at birth. Can you tell me why?”
“It was that list that I found.”
“The one with the names and addresses of all the people from the hospital? The one you gave to the police?”
Jackie pushed a piece of hair over her ear. “Yes. I told you this already. Millie’s name was at the top. And Sheldon told me during one of his rants that Mrs. Chapman and I were right next to each other in the hospital. I guess our daughters were next to each other, too. He found that significant, and so, well, I assume he thought Millie was the most likely candidate to be our biological daughter. And you know she does look like she could be my daughter. I see a bit of my mother in her. The nose, well, that’s all wrong, luckily for her, but she’s a cute girl.”
I clasped my hands together on my desk. “Jackie, I have to ask that you leave her alone. If she has any desire to pursue this further, she’ll do something about it, but until then, please don’t contact her again. And Sheldon may have had high hopes for Millie, but he talked with the other women as well, and from what I’ve heard, he had some high hopes for at least one of the others.” I held up my hand. “And no, I won’t tell you their names. You need to drop this and let the police do their job. You can’t just start knocking on doors claiming someone’s child is yours. Someone killed Sheldon and it may have been for doing just that.”
Jackie sniffled and wiped at her nose with a tissue she took from her purse.
“And besides, shouldn’t you and Andrea stick together at this time. You need each other. Put all this other stuff on the back burner. What does your daughter think about you chasing after Millie? It must be upsetting to her. I spoke with her yesterday and your husband’s obsession with finding your biological child really bothered her. She probably wouldn’t be too pleased if she found out you were taking up the cause.”
Jackie heaved a sigh. “You’re right. Of course you are. With Sheldon’s death, I’m just trying to find out what happened, to make some sense out of all of it. But I’m turning into him, aren’t I. I’m doing exactly what I told him to stop doing. I love my Andrea. It took forever to have her. The doctors said it was a miracle and she would probably be our only child and she was.” Jackie got a faraway look in her eyes. “Sheldon worked a lot back then. I spent most of my pregnancy in New York with my mother. It was such a happy time. After the morning sickness. Oy, what a time I had with that! But my mother and her old world remedies got me through it all. But okay, I understand what you’re saying. I’ll leave Millie alone. But a bat mitzvah would be such a nice diversion from dealing with death.”
I gave Jackie my stern school-teacher look.
“Okay. Okay. No bat mitzvah.”
“Good. You have Andrea and your granddaughter. You need to lean on each other. Jackie, I do have a question for you. Do you have any idea why Sheldon would say something like, There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.”
Jackie repeated the line out loud and then looked at me. “What the hell does that mean?” she asked, standing up and leaning over my desk. “Why would Sheldon say something like that? It makes no sense. See what I mean? The man was a putz. Always with the words. Who told you that?”
“It was just something that someone in his office heard him say. It probably doesn’t have any bearing on any of this.”
Jackie sat back down and smoothed her skirt. “Don’t get me started on his work. The man had issues with everyone. No one ever did anything right. Okay, Sheldon was smart, I’ll give him that, the putz, and he was probably right more than he was wrong. These young engineers they hire right out of school know nothing. Bupkis. That’s what they know, Sheldon always said.”
“Well, I just thought I’d ask. It probably is…bupkis,” I said. “I have another question if you have a moment. I was thinking that maybe your husband was killed because of money?”
“Money? What money?”
“Well, that’s exactly what I want to know. Is there a substantial amount of money to be gained that could possibly be a motive for murder?”
Jackie looked deep in thought. “It’s not polite to talk about money. That’s what my mother always told me. Don’t talk about money or politics. You do that, you lose friends. But okay, I see where it might be relevant now. Yes, we have money. There’s our house, my business, Sheldon’s life insurance, and a piece of land out on Long Island that he inherited from an aunt. Plus various investments. Like I said, Sheldon was a smart man. Meschugener, crazy, to be sure, but smart.” Jackie tapped the side of her head with her index finger. “The man knew how to invest.”
“And I assume you inherit everything with his death?” I asked.
“Me? No. I mean, yes, I have the house and my business, and of course some other assets and investments. But the land on Long Island goes to Andrea and some other money as well. She has a trust fund. Everything’s in the trust. Why? What are you getting at? Is this why Sheldon was killed?”
I wasn’t sure exactly. But after I spoke with Andrea and saw how upset she was with her father, I was afraid that her rage may have gotten the worst of her; that maybe, while her mother was away, Andrea took the matter into her own hands and permanently stopped her father from disrupting the family any further. And now with this new information that she was to inherit the bulk of her father’s estate, I thought I could make a very good case against her. Maybe she didn’t want another potential heir to be found and put a stop to her father’s searching once and for all. I looked at Jackie. Did I really want to tell her that her daughter was on my suspect list? No. No, I did not.
“You know, money probably has nothing at all to do with this. I just thought maybe someone was after your husband’s money. I’m sure it’s not important.”
“I can’t see how it would be,” Jackie said, either not picking up on the fact that Andrea may have wanted her inheritance sooner than later, or just choosing to ignore the possibility. “And besides, how would anyone know what our finances are? No, I don’t know why someone killed Sheldon, but it couldn’t have been for money.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, still keeping Andrea at the top of my suspect list.
“I’ve spoken to the police several times, but they don’t let me ask any questions. I’m not sure what I’ll do now with Sheldon gone, but I guess I need to figure it all out and get on with my life. Has your husband said anything? Are they any closer to finding the killer? No one tells me a thing. I’m the widow. You’d think that would mean something. How am I supposed to make plans if I don’t know what’s going on?”
I smiled. “My husband tells me as little as possible about his investigations.”
“But you. You and your friend are snooping. Surely someone must know something by now. On TV they say if the crime isn’t solved in forty-eight hours, then it never will be. That’s not right. Sheldon deserves better.” Jackie looked at me expectantly.
I just shrugged. I had nothing. Bupkis. How could I tell her that so far, her daughter was my most viable suspect?
Jackie picked up her purse and stood up. “If you find out anything, anything at all, please let me know. I guess I’ll be going back to North Carolina eventually. Here’s my card.”
She handed me a card for her store.
“Will you be staying down there?” I asked.
“Probably not. But I’ll have to sell my business and house. We had a life there. It’ll take time to close it down. Then I suppose I’ll go back to New York. Be close to Andrea. I still can’t believe Sheldon is gone.” Jackie shook her head and turned to leave.
I watched her walk out of my office. What a mess.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Armed with the information Shirley had emailed me this morning, I set out for New Haven. I planned on talking with four people and the first two had offices within a few blocks of Yale.
Hunter Wentworth was a hedge fund analyst, whatever the heck that meant. He worked a few days a week in New York and the other days at his office in New Haven. Shirley had made a few calls and found out he was in New Haven today, and the rest of the week in New York. I had a feeling Annie would have liked to sit in on this conversation, but it was now or never. I didn’t fancy a trip to the city, not if I wanted to catch a killer before my guests returned home.
I hardly ever came to New Haven anymore. Before Meme moved to Indian Cove, she had a brownstone and we visited her a lot, but other than murder investigations, I didn’t make the trip often anymore. Of course, now that I discovered the Le Petit Bonbon, I had a good reason to drive in—that was unless it turned out that Mandy, besides being an expert at chocolate making, also turned out to be a killer. I hoped not. The world needed as many good, high-end chocolate shops as it could get.
I found a parking spot close to my destination and fed the meter the equivalent of a week’s salary. Once inside the building, I asked the receptionist if I could speak with Mr. Wentworth. I had an excuse ready if she asked me any questions, but instead she just told me to have a seat and he would be right with me. Maybe I looked like I had a lot of money to invest. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Hunter Wentworth was a hunk. Christine Jamison had hit the jackpot on that regard. And judging from his expensive suit, he had other attributes as well. He ushered me into his office with a big smile and asked for my name again. And that’s when the smile turned into a scowl.
“Aren’t you the woman who talked with Christine on Saturday? She called me the minute you left.”
“I understand she also called you the minute Mr. Spiegel left her apartment,” I said, hoping it was true.
“She did. Luckily I was working here that day and I went right over in case he came back.”
“And did he?” I asked. This was an interesting development.
Hunter bore into me with his ice blue eyes. His face was nicely tanned and I wondered how he did that in March. His hair was light brown with just the right amount of blond streaks running through it. And he was tall. Tall, good-looking, and rich. I could see that he would be hard to toss back into the dating pool.
“As a matter of fact he did come back. He rang the bell while I was there and I went out and told him to get lost. He kept saying that Christine was his daughter and all he wanted her to do was take a simple blood test.” Hunter ran a hand through his thick, and what I assumed was professionally highlighted, hair because the placement of those blond streaks was just too perfect. “Christine a Jew. Can you imagine? Do you know what my parents would say?”
I wondered what his parents would say if they knew Christine was adopted and her biological mother was an unsavory character. I looked at Hunter. Tall, good-looking, rich and a bigot.
“And what did your parents say?” I asked with a tone that said I really didn’t care what his parents thought.
“Nothing. They don’t know and that’s how this is going to remain. I’m certainly not going to tell my parents, especially my mother, and, well, it’s not like Christine and my mother chit-chat on the phone. I told Christine to just drop it. Don’t go getting any blood tests. Just leave well enough alone. Not that I would care if she was Jewish, mind you. I love Christine. But my parents.” He shook his head. “And it’s not only Jews. If you don’t have a relative that arrived on the Mayflower, they don’t need to know you.”
“So then what happened?”
“Happened? Nothing. He left and I had to get back to work.”
“And Christine?”
“What about her? I kissed her good-bye and she went back inside. She works from home.”
“And you would have absolutely no issues with Christine’s parentage if it came down to the fact that she was the Spiegels’ daughter?”
“Look, I like things the way they are. But I love her, I really do. I’ve fought my parents every step of the way since things got serious between the two of us and I’m tired of it. I was supposed to work for the family business, but I learned long ago I would never have a life of my own if I didn’t distance myself from them, at least a bit. So here I am. But the constant badgering gets to a person after a while, and if Christine is Jewish there would be no peace from my parents. Ever. I don’t know if I want to deal with that the rest of my life. And what about kids? Mr. and Mrs. Hunter Wentworth the second would never accept my children as their grand kids. You don’t know them. They would make my life hell.”
“So if Mr. Spiegel’s claim turns out to be true, you would break it off with Christine?”
Hunter’s hunky looks took on almost a boyish quality. “Look, I don’t know, okay? I just want this whole thing to go away so we can get on with our plans. My parents aren’t crazy about my choice, but they’ve accepted Christine. Kind of. I don’t want anything to upset this delicate balance I’ve managed to achieve.”
It seemed to me that the engagement was on shaky ground, and I could see either Hunter or Christine, or even her parents, doing something to shore up that foundation—including murder.
I left Hunter at that point. My talk with him had just created more work for me. Christine had lied. She never mentioned that Sheldon Spiegel returned, and of course she never mentioned that she had called Hunter. Why was that? And if Sheldon returned, it was most likely because he felt certain he was right about Christine. And with that righteousness probably came forcefulness. Would he have just given up and gone as quietly as Hunter said? I didn’t think so. I also knew something about Hunter that I didn’t let on in our meeting. Shirley had dug up an arrest from about four years ago. He and a friend got into a drunken brawl over some girl and the friend filed charges. Clearly Hunter had some anger issues and wasn’t averse to fighting over a woman. So, did Hunter follow Mr. Spiegel and put an end to all this unsavory business lest his parents find out about Christine’s possible parentage, or did Christine wait until Hunter was out of sight and then take off after Sheldon, perhaps pleading with him to let it go? And when he didn’t she contacted him again and killed him. And if Christine’s father had a gun, there was a decent chance that she knew how to use one and maybe even had one of her own.
The questions were mounting. Now all I had to do was find the answers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I needed to speak with Christine again, but Martha Aiello’s campaign headquarters was closer. I fed more hard-earned money into the meter and decided to walk the five or six blocks. The exercise would do me good and give me some time to think. I found it interesting that Sheldon Spiegel went back to Christine’s apartment, and I was fairly certain I knew why. Just as Annie and I had done, Mr. Spiegel must have been shocked by the striking resemblance Christine had to Jackie. But according to Hunter, he left rather quickly, so had the man come to the same conclusion Annie and I had come to, which was that the resemblance, upon a second look, was only superficial? Or was Hunter lying.
I walked another block, and the more I thought about it, I realized that the timing was off. Mr. Spiegel had stopped by Christine’s on Friday afternoon, and even if he came back, and Christine or Hunter killed him, they couldn’t have done it then. Mr. Spiegel had shown up all over the place over the course of the next few days, including my office on the following Monday. But I liked it. It gave them time to formulate a plan, either alone or together, on how exactly they would get rid of Mr. Spiegel.
And what about Christine’s parents? They also said the man left when they asked him to, but Sheldon Spiegel felt he was on to something with Christine. I was sure of it. Before Annie and I had left the Jamison home, Chri
stine’s mother had given me her business card. She wanted me to let her know the outcome of the whole mess if for no other reason than to confirm her adoption secret was secure. Maybe if I talked to her without her husband around, I might get some additional information.
There were three people working the phones when I arrived at Martha Aiello’s campaign headquarters, but none of them looked like the expertly coiffed and exquisitely dressed Martha Aiello I had seen on numerous TV ads.
“No, she’s not here right now,” a somewhat harried young woman I assumed was a volunteer said. “She had a couple of meetings this morning, but she should be back about one-thirty.” The girl didn’t look too happy at the prospect of Ms. Aiello’s imminent return.
I thanked her and walked back to my car. Hopefully Christine was working from home today and wasn’t out walking Norman.
I parked my car a couple of blocks away from Christine’s apartment, and as I rounded the corner, I saw a woman a good block ahead of me walking a dog, which was either Norman or his twin. I had on black flats with just a slight heel. I figured I could run and catch up with her. My rheumatoid arthritis didn’t seem to bother my everyday activities, and I still continued going to the gym and taking power walks in the evening, but I knew running was going to cause me some serious pain later in the day. I made a mental note to take a couple of ibuprofen after I talked with Christine.
Christine Jamison obviously heard someone approaching because just as I reached her she whirled around with a can of pepper spray in her right hand, while holding on to a more ferocious Norman than I had first met.
“Oh, jeez, it’s you. I should have known.”
She pocketed the pepper spray somewhat reluctantly, I felt, but at least it was no longer in her hand. Then she admonished Norman for his lack of manners and he promptly jumped up on me.