by Debra Webb
“Knowledge is power, young lady. Always remember that,” he advised. “Make it a point to know every single thing you can about those around you and you will always be in charge.”
She sat down on the ottoman directly in front of his chair, her blue eyes glittering. “What kinds of things, Mr. Duval?”
“All kinds.” He smiled. “Learn a person’s deepest, darkest secrets and you will own them.”
She laughed again. “I don’t know about that. There are a lot of brilliant, powerful people in this town. My father knows all of them. They’re all friends.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “My company cleans their homes.”
“You are in their homes,” he reminded her with a wink. “Their deepest, darkest secrets are right there. Find them, memorize them and then use them if the necessity arises. That way, no one will ever own you. You will always have the upper hand. Knowledge is the ultimate power, my dear.”
She searched his eyes. “Why are you telling me this now, Mr. Duval? I’ve been cleaning your house for three years. You were one of my first customers.”
“I had to wait until the time was right. Until you were mature enough to understand the power you possess.”
She made a face. “What power?”
“You are beautiful, Sylvia. Beautiful, smart and ambitious. Never allow anyone to take that from you. Arm yourself with the proper ammunition. You will thank me one day.”
~
She had thanked him. Before she left for the day after her final weekly visit, she hugged him and whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Duval. You were right. Knowledge is power.”
Now she was dead.
Chapter Nine
Troy Duval’s home sat at the end of the road that ran parallel to Laney’s. A jaunt through the woods across the road from her house would bring her into his backyard, which is how his beagle ended up at her house. His home, a log cabin that was more of a mansion than a cabin, bumped against the woods with the larger portion of his property spreading out in front of his house.
She turned into the driveway, rolled up to the keypad and entered the temporary code Duval had given her. The massive iron gates opened, allowing her to roll forward. The driveway was a long one, winding down and through the vineyard. Closer to the house what appeared to be a vegetable garden was on the right while a parking area waited on the left. The fifteen-year-old SUV registered to Duval was apparently in the garage.
Laney climbed out of her car and walked to the front porch. The wind was up a little but the sun was warm. She climbed the steps, still mulling over the best starting place for the interview. She knocked on the door and listened. No sound inside. She knocked again.
“Let yourself in.”
The words were muffled but loud enough to hear. She opened the door and leaned in. “Mr. Duval?”
“In the great room by the fire.”
Laney closed the door behind her and followed the direction of his voice. The entry hall opened into an enormous great room. As he’d said, he sat in a chair in front of the fire. The stone fireplace was wide and soared to the roofline of the cathedral style ceiling.
“Please join me, Deputy Holt.” He gestured to the other chair facing the fireplace. “I took the liberty of preparing tea, if you’re interested.”
A ceramic pot, sugar bowl and tiny creamer pitcher, along with two mugs waited on the tray he’d placed on the table between the two chairs.
“Tea would be nice.”
She sat down in the large chair. Everything about the home was oversized. But then, Duval was a tall man. Though he was thin and looked frail now, she’d looked up photos of him as a younger man. He had been quite tall, broad shouldered and well muscled. This was a mere shell of the man he once was. She suspected a serious medical condition but couldn’t be sure.
“I have Earl Grey and Vanilla Chai.”
Quite a contrast in flavors. “I’ll take the Chai. Thank you.”
He placed a bag in one of the mugs and poured the steaming water. “This was Sylvia’s favorite tea. I kept it for her. Sugar or cream?”
“Both please.” When he’d passed her the mug she thanked him and he took his seat. The effort he’d expended visibly taking the wind out of his sails.
“I cannot tell you how devastated I am by Sylvia’s death.” He exhaled a breath, laden with the same heavy sadness Laney saw in his eyes. “She was a dear friend.”
“I didn’t know her personally,” Laney felt compelled to tell him. “But everyone I’ve spoken to adored her.” The Bradshaws could go either way, but Vinn certainly appeared to have strong feelings about Sylvia. Maybe his mother did as well.
“She was a bright light in this dark world.” Duval sipped his tea.
Laney did the same, allowing the hot tea to warm her. It was a fairly warm day but inside she felt cold. Investigating murder had a way of putting a chill in her bones. “I’ll have to get this brand of tea,” she noted before taking another sip. “It’s really quite good.”
“It’s available at the local market.” He placed his mug on the tray. “But you didn’t come here to discuss the nuances of good tea.”
“I did not.” Laney set her mug aside as well. “Based on the cause of death, we have reason to believe Sylvia was murdered by someone she knew. Probably someone she knew well. Because of that evidence, it’s important that we speak to everyone close to her.”
“I rarely leave the house.” He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “I have MS, Deputy Holt. I hardly have the strength to walk from room to room. I couldn’t have killed Sylvia or anyone else, even if I felt so inclined.”
The Multiple Sclerosis certainly explained his declining condition. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Duval. You understand how important it is that we turn over every rock. Particularly if there is any history—suggested or otherwise—of violence.”
“Ah.” He nodded knowingly. “You uncovered my big secret. Exhumed the skeletons in my past.”
Laney couldn’t help feeling a little guilty bringing up the man’s past. No one hated reliving the past anymore than she did. But this sore spot was a necessary wound to reopen. Duval was far too intelligent to be fooled by any other excuse.
“More reporters have flocked to Shutter Lake,” she admitted. “How long do you suppose it will be before one of them figures out who you are? If the question arises, the chief and I need to be able to head off any trouble for you that might be roused. The more knowledgeable we sound, the less likely anyone is to go off digging for answers.”
He nodded. “I see your point. So you want my story. Very well. I’ll tell you all there is to know—all I know.”
“I appreciate your cooperation, sir. No one wants to find the person responsible for this senseless death more than I do.”
His pale, silvery eyes held Laney’s gaze a long moment. “I believe you do, Deputy. So, where would you like me to start?”
“Why do you believe your wife and daughter were murdered?”
He sighed. “Revenge. There was a man—if you read the case file you’ll know the one I mean—who held a position of power at the studio where Madelyn was working to rebuild her career. This man liked having what he wanted and he wanted my wife. When she attempted to extricate herself from the situation, he found a reason to cancel her contract for the upcoming series that would have put her back on the map, so to speak. She was devastated.”
The rest was easy to guess. “You felt compelled to settle the issue.”
“I did.”
“Will it do me any good to ask how you settled it?”
“No.” His gaze met hers. “Trust me when I say I have paid many times for that poor decision. This powerful man had my wife and daughter killed right under my nose while I was working in my home office.” He laughed that dry sound again. “I was writing a novel about murder and treachery. Ironic, isn’t it?” He stared into the flames.
“Could this man or someone close to him still be watching you? Perhaps he deci
ded to take something else from you. Or maybe there is someone you haven’t mentioned who feels he or she was once slighted by you?”
He shook his head. “The man who had my wife and child murdered died shortly after their deaths. He drowned in his own hot tub. The medical examiner ruled his death an accident. One should never over indulge in mind altering substances and then climb into the water. Not very smart.”
Laney wasn’t surprised to hear that ending. What did surprise her was that he almost admitted to murdering the man.
“As for your second question, there is no one else, believe me.”
To her surprise, she did. “Do you have any thoughts on who might have wanted to hurt Sylvia?”
He continued to stare at the flames, his head moving from side to side. “If I did, I would certainly tell you. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to hurt her. She was a good person. A caring person.”
“I’ve been hearing that all morning.” His eyes met hers then. “But someone didn’t feel that way. Someone killed her.”
“Someone who knew her, you said,” he responded.
“We believe so.”
“Start with the clients of her business. Beyond her family, I suspect they knew her better than anyone and vise versa.”
“Do you have reason to believe one of her clients wanted to hurt her?”
“No.” His gaze wandered back to the flames when he said this.
“Tell me about the last time you saw, Sylvia.”
“She was here on Wednesdays. That was her day with me.”
Interesting. “The day she was murdered.”
He flinched. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Did she act any different? Maybe she had something on her mind? Seemed distracted?”
“No.” He turned to face Laney. “Sylvia was her usual happy self. If she had a problem in the world, she showed no indication.”
“Did she mention any plans she had for that night? Maybe she was going to dinner or having someone over?”
“If she had plans, she said nothing about them.”
“Do you know if she was involved romantically with anyone?”
“No one she ever spoke about.”
“What time did she leave your home, Mr. Duval?”
“Around three. She generally arrived at eight.” He smiled sadly. “She always brought me a bagel or a muffin from The Grind. She worked all morning, then we played catch up at lunch. She would tell me what was going on in her world and then she’d work a couple more hours and leave. It was the highlight of my week. I am lost without her.”
Laney couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. How sad it must be to reach his age and to be all alone. Isn’t that exactly where you’re headed, Laney? She cleared her head of the static. “Did she tell you anything new about what was going on in her world this past Wednesday?”
“She was very excited about a vacation. She hasn’t taken one since the last time she went with her parents as a teenager. She had planned an extended trip to Venezuela.”
Laney couldn’t recall the last time she’d taken a vacation. “Any particular reason she chose Venezuela?”
“Not that she mentioned.”
Laney removed a business card from her jacket pocket and placed it on the tray next to the teapot. “I hope you’ll call me if you think of anything else that might be useful to our investigation.”
“I will. Yes.”
Laney stood. Duval reached to push up from his chair and she held her hands up. “Please, I can see myself out.”
He nodded. “Good luck with the investigation, Deputy.”
Before she turned away, she asked, “How is your beagle? Archie?” She hadn’t seen him outside and he didn’t appear to be in the house.
Duval sighed. “I’m afraid he passed just a few months ago. Sylvia helped me bury him near his favorite tree. It was another sad day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Laney thanked him again and left his home. The gate opened as she approached and she drove on through. She appreciated that Duval seemed happy to be so open with her. The only part of the interview that nudged her instincts was his inability to maintain eye contact after certain questions.
What else besides an old murder was the man hiding?
She would be coming back to that question. For now, she drove over to Sierra College. Based on Shonda Reed’s class schedule she would be leaving her first class of the day at three. She had a half hour break before the next one. Laney intended to be waiting outside the lecture hall. She had questions for Shonda but she didn’t want to talk to her where Nolan Ikard might hear about it.
~
When the doors of the lecture hall opened and students started to file out, Laney pushed off the wall where she’d been leaning and watched for Shonda. While she’d waited she had checked in with the lab. McCabe had gotten the prints from the table to the lab but they hadn’t been processed just yet. The sheets were definitely loaded with semen but finding a match would take time and then only if the person who left the body fluid behind was in the database. No useable prints from the victim’s throat or anywhere else on her body. No skin under her nails. That was about the extent of the relevant evidence they had so far. Nothing that would help unless they found a match and even then the killer wasn’t necessarily the man with whom Sylvia had sex. The semen could have been from the night before for that matter.
Shonda Reed, petite, strawberry blond hair, big brown eyes, bounced from the lecture hall. She was deep in discussion with another woman and didn’t notice Laney until she called her name.
Shonda turned, spotted Laney and froze. Her friend said something and she blinked, responded and then her friend moved on.
Laney walked across the carpeted corridor toward the younger woman who looked exactly like a trapped animal with no place to run. “Hey, Shonda. I was hoping we could talk for a bit.”
“Sure. I have a few minutes before my next class.”
“We can walk that way,” Laney offered. No need to cause her to be late.
Shonda nodded, the movement jerky. “Yeah, okay.”
They exited the building and the sun was still bright though it was dropping toward the treetops.
“Are you aware of your boss’s relationship with Sylvia Cole?”
She glanced at Laney, her eyes wide. “Relationship? What do you mean?”
“They had been friends for a really long time.” That part was true. “A few people I’ve interviewed suggested they were more than friends.”
Shonda shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I mean, they flirted like crazy with each other. But I can’t say they were anything other than friends. Nolan flirts a lot with a lot of women.”
“Hmm. You seemed surprised when he told me they were only friends.”
She stared straight ahead. “I did? I don’t know why I would have. I wasn’t really paying that much attention to your conversation.”
Laney stopped. Shonda did the same, almost stumbling. “I think you’re lying to me, Shonda. And that bothers me. You see, I have a job to do and I can’t do it if people lie to me.”
Shonda winced. Quickly wiped the surprise off her face and went for nonchalant. “I’m not sure what your feelings and conclusions have to do with me.”
“I think you know that Nolan and Sylvia were intimately involved and you were surprised he didn’t tell me the truth. People who don’t have anything to hide usually tell the truth, don’t they?”
The younger woman blinked. “Well, yes, I guess so.”
“Then why do you suppose he lied?”
“He’s…” She swallowed, licked her lips.
“Better yet,” Laney pushed, “why are you lying?”
“I suppose he’s scared that he’ll be blamed for hurting Sylvia. You can’t always trust the cops. I mean, this is a kind of scary moment. You’re like freaking me out.”
Shonda had no criminal record. Ikard didn’t either, for that matter. “Why would I be freaking
out an innocent person? Do you or Nolan have reason to distrust me or anyone else in the Shutter Lake Police Department?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s just that with everything you see on the news, you never know.”
That part was, sadly, true. “We aren’t on the news, Shonda. We’re here and I’m trying to find a killer. If you want to help me do that then you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me the truth, should you?”
“I guess not.” Her fingers tightened around the strap of the backpack hanging off one shoulder.
“Were Nolan and Sylvia more than friends?”
She nodded. “I think they were like buddies, you know? Shared a physical relationship that had nothing to do with love or complicated relationship stuff. A no strings attached kind of thing.”
“How long do you believe they’ve had this more intimate relationship?”
A shrug lifted her slender shoulders. “I’ve worked at The Grind for a year and they were, you know, intimate already when I joined the team.”
“Did you ever hear them argue? Or maybe Sylvia mentioned someone who was giving her trouble? Another guy, possibly?”
For about five seconds the younger girl chewed her bottom lip, then she said, “There’s this one high school kid, Vinn Bradshaw. He came into The Grind once when Sylvia was there. He seemed really upset that she was flirting with Nolan. But I can’t be sure. He might have been upset about something else. Anyway, he and Sylvia went outside. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like they were arguing.”
“What did Nolan do? Did he seem upset about what was happening?”
“He just said the kid needed to get a life and stop fantasizing about things he couldn’t have.”
“But Nolan didn’t give you any indication that he was angry or upset?”
“No way. He’s the king of cool. Very little ever upsets him. Besides, like I said, I don’t think whatever he and Sylvia had was like a real relationship. It was just a way to get off, you know.”
Laney understood perfectly. “When was the last time Sylvia dropped by the shop?”