“Interesting strategy,” Julius finally said. “To try to convince me you’re innocent of murder by explaining to me how much you hated the victim and how thrilled you are that he’s dead.”
“I’d say more relieved than thrilled, but basically, yes. What would be the point of lying to you? I wouldn’t fool you. If I put on a grieving over a dear friend act, you’d see through me. The simple fact is Ken being killed was a blessing for me in many ways, and I’m not a good enough actor to fool you otherwise.”
“Let’s assume you had nothing to do with your client’s murder,” Julius said dryly. “This questioning is being filmed to be shown on television. You’re not concerned that your remarks to me will ruin you as an agent?”
The smile that stretched then across Marriston’s face was more genuine than bemused. “Not at all,” he said. “As I mentioned before, the timeliness of this murder is going to make Ken’s next book huge, and because of that, I’ll be a hot commodity no matter what I’m saying today.”
For a good twelve seconds Julius’s features hardened as if he were made out of marble, and I felt my processing cycles skip a beat in excitement realizing that during those twelve seconds Julius’s brain was working in overdrive. If he solved Kingston’s murder during those twelve seconds, he kept it to himself because when he came out of his trance he next tried to poke holes in Marriston’s alibis during the two shootings, as well as whether he might’ve purchased a thirty-two caliber gun. Burke came to life during this questioning; probably realizing that he needed to perform for the camera. To give him credit, the questions he came out with to try to trip up Marriston were good ones. Still, it didn’t make me warm up to him anymore. He might’ve been Paul to Julius, but he was still going to be just Burke to me.
Julius and Burke kept up this new line of questioning for thirty minutes but couldn’t shake Marriston from his story, nor could they shake him out of his relaxed casual attitude. By the time Julius finally gave up the ghost on this, the literary agent had that same fresh-as-a-daisy look as when he first entered Julius’s office.
While they didn’t get anywhere with their grilling, as much as it pained me to admit it, Julius and Burke worked well together. Marriston, seeming to sense their defeat, smiled pleasantly, and asked Julius if he had anything more for him. Julius shook his head.
Marriston still hadn’t finished his sandwich, and he picked it up to take one last bite. He chewed it slowly, relishing it. “Really excellent,” he said. “I asked before and you didn’t answer me. Did you get this from Largents?”
“No. Louis’ Bistro on Charles Street.”
Marriston put down what was left and got to his feet. Julius frowned at him as he watched the literary agent slip his jacket on. “Did you read your client’s upcoming book?” he asked.
Marriston shook his head. He smiled thinly, but this time not with any amusement, maybe something closer to bitterness. “Of course not,” he said. “Ken had that top secret campaign going. He wouldn’t even let me read it. As far as I know only his publishing house has seen it. But it doesn’t matter. Brilliant masterpiece or utter trash, after what happened to him it’s going to be a massive bestseller.”
“You were his first and only agent, right?”
“That’s right,” Marriston acknowledged. He finished buttoning his jacket and shrugged his shoulders to get the material to lay better. “I was with him from the very beginning when it was him and Jonathan Mable. When they split up, I should’ve gone with Jonathan. A decent guy and a much better writer than Ken, but lacking Ken’s more commercial instincts. In retrospect I made a mistake. Anything else?”
Julius shook his head, and all eyes were on Marriston as he exited the room.
Chapter 21
They had a fifteen minute gap between Marriston and the next suspect, Zoe Chase. During this time, both Cantrell and DiNatale went outside for a cigarette break while Julius excused himself and headed to his wine cellar. There he wandered slowly amongst his five thousand bottles, lingering as he gazed at hundreds of bottles making up his collection. Occasionally he’d stop to pick one up and study it longingly before placing it back on the rack. He had what appeared to be an exceptionally difficult time putting back a three hundred and sixty dollar bottle of Armand Rousseau Chambertin. I could see the want in his eyes as he stared at it. He had gone the whole day so far without any wine, but he steeled himself and put this bottle back in its place. Then, with his jaw clenched, he left the wine cellar without a word. As he entered his kitchen, I remarked how admirable it was that he was depriving himself this way.
“I guess until you point out the murderer, you won’t be touching a drop?”
“Precisely, Archie,” he said, grim-faced, either intentionally ignoring or missing my implied sarcasm.
I was going to delve into his reasons for this self-sacrifice, but decided it wasn’t worth it. He wouldn’t have given me a straight answer, and in the mood he was in I could find myself taking another unplanned nap. Of course, I was in a bit of a mood myself after watching the way Gail Kingston and Edwards Marriston acted while being questioned, so I let the matter drop, instead commenting on the performances we’d seen so far.
“I would’ve bet money earlier after the act the widow gave us that she was the one with the psychopathic personality,” I said. “After watching this agent’s complete nonchalance over Kingston’s murder, I’m now thinking they both can be.”
“It’s possible,” Julius admitted.
“Yeah. Hell. From what I’ve been reading on the subject, a psychopath would have no problem bumping someone off just to bump up his commission on book sale royalties. So where does that leave us? Maybe Kingston had a knack of surrounding himself with those types. What if the rest of them turn out to be psychopaths also? How do we pick which one among a group of psychopaths is our killer?”
“A very good question, Archie.”
“I guess you still have your half-baked wisp.”
Julius smiled grimly, but didn’t respond otherwise. At that point he was a step away from his office door and was about to reach out for the doorknob. I’d kept an eye on his guests while Julius had made his excursion down to his wine cellar—both the ones in his office and the skeleton camera crew while they were outside smoking cigarettes—so I was able to warn him that Zoe Chase had been brought in on schedule, and that Cramer had started on his fourth sandwich; a meatloaf, mozzarella and chipotle mustard number on Challah bread.
Zoe Chase looked tiny as she sat in the large cream-colored leather chair opposite Julius’s desk. She also looked every bit the frightened sparrow as she did the last time, almost as if she’d expire on the spot if someone yelled boo at her. Julius had brought in from the kitchen a tray with bottled water and beers. Since he was going to be depriving himself until he had this case solved, he didn’t bother with wine. He put the tray down on a stand and waited until he was seated behind his desk before nodding curtly to the young and apparently very nervous book editor. Of course, her nervousness could be an act. If she was a psychopath, or at least the psychopath among a group of other psychopaths who murdered Kingston, then it could very well have been an act. I considered calling her on her cell phone so I could yell boo and see how she reacted, but I didn’t want to risk the consequences in case her nervousness was genuine.
There were still a few sandwiches left—Cramer hadn’t yet gotten around to polishing them off, and Julius offered her one, as well as bottled water or beer or coffee. She declined the food, but accepted a bottle of San Pellegrino water. Cramer and the other two cops were eyeing the bottles of Rolling Rock that Julius brought in, but Cramer deprived himself as well and settled on pouring himself another cup of coffee, and the other two cops with him reluctantly took bottles of San Pellegrino water instead of beer. Burke took a bottle of Rolling Rock, as did Julius.
Julius thanked Zoe Chase for agreeing to be questioned like this, and then went at it, although his manner was far gentler with her than it
had been with the other two. I didn’t read anything into it. He could’ve been laying a trap and was using this more sedate tone to lull her into believing that her act was working on him. Or maybe he was afraid she might expire on him if he didn’t soften his voice. I asked him which one it was, but he ignored me. His first question to her was how she became Kingston’s editor. She had her fingers interlaced and was squeezing her fingers hard enough that her knuckles had turned bone white. She seemed deeply absorbed in some inner thoughts, and I was beginning to wonder whether she heard Julius’s question, but finally she told him that she didn’t know exactly why she was picked.
“Ken wanted a new editor for his next book,” she said in a half-whisper. She tried to meet Julius’s gaze, but was having trouble, and was looking mostly at her hands, only occasionally forcing herself to peek at him. “He came to the office and talked with a few of us and decided he wanted me to do it.”
“What was your position before that?”
“Junior associate editor.”
Julius already knew this and more since I had briefed him earlier, but I guess he wanted to gauge her reactions both to harmless questions like that one and more difficult ones. He took a healthy swig of his beer and put the bottle back down on his desk. Like Burke, he was resorting to drinking out of the bottle instead of a glass.
“What were your responsibilities as junior associate editor?”
“Helping the senior editor whom I was assigned to.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Different tasks, such as reading submissions and writing reports on the more favorable ones.”
“Also errands?” Julius asked. “Like picking up dry cleaning and getting coffee and lunch?”
Again, Julius knew this since it was part of the briefing I gave him. I had called the senior editor she worked for to get the lowdown on her. Zoe Chase’s mouth weakened a bit as she told Julius that this was true, but she was able to meet his gaze as she did so.
“So this was a significant opportunity for you,” Julius said as he rubbed his thumb along his upper lip as if he were deep in thought over this. “Of course, that’s only if the book turns out to be successful, otherwise I’m sure you’ll be back to running errands. But never mind that for now. Why do you think Kingston picked you?”
She looked away from him as she fidgeted in her chair. It seemed to take a great deal of effort for her to meet his gaze again.
“He liked my ideas for his book. Also my enthusiasm for the project,” she said.
“What were your ideas?”
There was some more fidgeting on her part. Then in a soft whisper, “The secrecy campaign.”
“I thought that idea was Kingston’s.”
“It was. At least superficially. But I had additional ideas on how to implement it.”
Julius took pity on her and didn’t press her on her additional ideas, which I doubted would’ve amounted to much. Instead he studied her for a long moment, all the while rubbing his thumb along his upper lip, and then asked whether she had been a fan of Kingston’s books.
“Yes,” she said. “The book I’m publishing is marvelous. It’s really beautifully crafted.”
“I meant his earlier books.”
One thing Julius wasn’t was imprecise. He wanted to see how she would manipulate his question. Again, she dropped her gaze from Julius’s. All I could think of watching her was a wounded sparrow. But if she had a psychopathic personality, this could all be an affectation on her part.
“I didn’t read Ken’s earlier books,” she said.
“He knew this?”
“Yes, of course. This new book was a departure for him. He didn’t want someone hung up on his older writing. I think that was part of the reason he wanted me to work on his new one.”
“Tell me about this new one,” Julius said.
She looked miserable as she shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “As part of the secrecy publicity campaign, I signed a nondisclosure agreement. Unless I’m given a release, I could be sued if I describe the book to anyone before its publishing date.”
“I wouldn’t want to cause you to be you sued,” Julius said. “Arrested for murder, possibly. We’ll see. But certainly not sued.”
Her head snapped up to meet Julius’s stare. She miraculously lost her wounded sparrow look, and instead made me think of a hawk or some other bird of prey.
“Why would you say that?” she demanded.
Julius shrugged. “Why? I’m certainly not convinced that you didn’t murder Kenneth Kingston, and I don’t like being lied to.”
“How have I lied to you?”
Another shrug from Julius. “A lie of omission,” he said. “So far you’ve failed to mention that Kingston attempted to force sexual relations upon you, probably going as far as to threaten to have you removed as his editor if you didn’t comply.”
I have to give her credit. She handled that better than I would’ve expected. No wounded sparrow look from her anymore as her eyes narrowed to hard slits.
“If you had asked me, I would’ve told you about that,” she said. “I’m not a mind reader.”
I wanted to ask Julius how he knew this, but it would have to wait until we were alone. Of course, I’d seen him pull rabbits out of his hat before, and this could’ve been a wild guess, but I had the distinct feeling that instead this was that half-baked wisp of his. I went into overdrive then trying to build simulations to explain her murdering Kingston. It didn’t take me long, no more than three milliseconds, to realize how obvious her motive was.
“Please,” Julius chided her. “You know full well how important that piece of information is to this murder investigation, and yet you made no attempt to disclose it. And not just for how damning it might be for you, but also the implications for Kingston’s widow. But for you it is certainly damning. If Kingston isn’t murdered, then you’re being pressured by him to have sex or see your career destroyed, and even if you give in to his demands, the book could still bomb badly and your career could still be short-circuited. But with Kingston dead, you are no longer being threatened by him, and perhaps more importantly, you’re guaranteeing that the book will be a runaway hit, regardless of whether or not it’s beautifully crafted. And of course if that happens, you become the hot new commodity in the publishing world. So you can see how it looks with you holding back that fact.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “I didn’t kill Ken,” she said.
“Perhaps you didn’t,” Julius conceded. “But you see the situation that you’re now in?”
“So what do you want from me?”
Julius breathed in deeply through his nose and let it out the same way. “Convince me that you didn’t kill him,” he said. “Or convince me that you did. Either way I’ll be happy, although I’ll be happier with the latter since it will mean that this case is concluded. We can start first by you telling me why you thought you were brought to my office Thursday afternoon.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Ken refused to tell me the purpose of the meeting, only that I needed to be there.”
“But you must’ve had some thoughts on what it might be about.”
She shook her head. “I had no clue,” she insisted.
“There you go again,” Julius said. “Lying to me by omission. Some thoughts had to have come to you.”
“I had no serious ideas on the matter. Only that he was making me jump through hoops by forcing me to make the trip to Boston from New York.” Her mouth weakened. “Maybe also that he wanted me here in a hotel room so he could try again to force himself on me. And maybe that he took some perverse pleasure in having me in the same room as his wife.”
“That was why you seemed so uncomfortable the other day? Because Gail Kingston was present also?”
“With what he was trying to force me to do, that was partly it,” she said. “Partly also that I had no idea what else he was planning.”
“I guess that explanation is plausible,
” Julius said. “Not necessarily believable but merely plausible. When did Kingston start making his demands on you?”
“Three weeks ago,” she said.
“Did he threaten to have you removed as his editor if you didn’t give in to his demands?”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t you report this to your bosses?”
Her eyes dimmed as she looked down at her hands, which were still clasped tightly in front of her.
“They wouldn’t have believed me,” she said.
“Not an enviable position to be in,” Julius noted. “Morally, I don’t think I could blame you if you did kill him.”
“That’s nice to know, but I didn’t.”
Julius considered her for a good thirty seconds before attacking her alibis. They were no good as it was. She had taken an early train from New York Thursday morning and had arrived in Boston at nine-thirty, and then spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon doing some sightseeing until the two o’clock meeting at Julius’s. She didn’t have a single person who could vouch for her, nor were the police able to find anyone who remembered seeing her. Her alibi at the time of Julius’s shooting was just as bad. She was alone in her hotel room, and the hotel provided no security cameras that could help to prove that she was where she claimed to be. After a half hour of dancing around with her, Julius gave up.
Julius Katz and Archie Page 19