As for the person running out the back door, Mark said he was trying to see if Charlie was alive and could be helped, and all he saw was a tall woman with fairly long hair, wearing slacks, running out the door. Then he saw the blur of what he thought was a brown Kia leaving swiftly.
“Mark.” I tapped my finger on the table. “You are lying through your teeth. You never went to Tellman’s to have a friendly chat with Charlie! You couldn’t have a friendly chat with anyone who’s gay, much less someone you think is sleeping with your wife. I’ll grant maybe you didn’t go there to kill her. Maybe you just went there to try to frighten her into leaving Karen alone, probably to beat her up for good measure. But when you saw the gun on the table beside the money . . . bingo! Kill this wife-stealing, lesbian bitch and get a fistful of money to boot.
“Then you got the bright idea of putting another woman on the scene,” I added. “You made her the spitting image of Ellen Hall, because you know when someone is murdered, a spouse or lover is always somewhat suspect. That gave you another laugh. Maybe Charlie’s bitch lesbian lover knew of the Charlie/Karen affair and could go down for the shooting There never was a second woman in the room. You made her up and Richard swore to it. You do know Ellen, don’t you?”
“No. I mean I know her when I see her. We redid her office furniture. She and her friend picked out the material.”
“Nice going, Alex. Sounds good to me,” Sonny said.
“Look, Sonny, I tell you I never killed her.”
Obviously, Mark was not going to talk to me, a mere woman, and gay at that. “Yes, I was mad,” Mark admitted. “Wouldn’t you be? This crazy woman, Charlie—whoever named a woman Charlie?—comes on the scene and decides she’s gonna start up some hoity-toity catering business with my wife. And Karen’s cousin Ruthie goes along with it! Her own cousin going into business with a dyke who’s screwing my wife? What’s the world coming to? Then Karen wants a divorce, she’s so in love with this queer. A divorce, after we been married nearly twenty years. Okay, Karen hasn’t been much of a wife lately, but she’s not all that bad. I wouldn’t never have left her.”
He sounded as if he were describing an old lawnmower that wasn’t cutting evenly but was still usable.
“So what were you going to do?” Sonny asked. “Rough her up?”
Mark looked up slowly. “Maybe, but no more than that. I just wanted her to back off. What would everybody think of me? What kind of man loses his wife to another woman? They’d be laughing all over town. And Harry. What would this do to him? Would he be laughing, too? I walked in the office and there she sat putting big stacks of money in a green bag. Looked like a million. She looked up and asked me—real tough-like—who I was and what did I want?”
He buried his face in his hands, his next words barely understandable. “I saw her hand inching across the desk and realized she was after a pistol, sort of half hid under some papers. I knew she’d shoot me. I could see it in her eyes. I was just some low-life thief come to take her money.”
He was talking faster now, hands rubbing up and down his reddening cheeks.
“I grabbed her hand and tried to get the gun away from her or turn it away from me. I think her elbow slipped on the table and the gun went off and she kind of reared back in the chair with the back of her goddamn head blown all to hell. I didn’t mean it, Sonny.”
He began to cry. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident, I tell you. I didn’t kill her! And then that fool Merrill comes thundering through the door yelling his head off, screaming we gotta make it look like suicide and get the money and get out before somebody comes back to the gallery. Then he was running around to the computer. It was like some of those crazy kids’ cartoons.”
“Did you know Charlie did some things left-handed, so you put the gun in her left hand and let it fall to her left side?” I asked.
His sobs grew heavier. “No, I never thought about that . . . I guess it was just the easiest way to do it with the way she was sitting. But I didn’t mean it, Sonny. I wouldn’t never have killed nobody! All I wanted was Karen and things back the way they was.”
And I realized that in about five minutes, we had listened to the tale of a man’s life—rather dull, but not really unhappy—disintegrating into a hell he would never leave. And along with him, he had taken his own family and Charlie’s, plus Charlie’s lover, and even, to a lesser degree, Richard Merrill’s and Karen’s cousin Ruthie and Charlie’s many friends.
All because he didn’t like the lifestyle of certain people.
Chapter 25
I was at home. I had told Sonny I simply couldn’t take any more of Mark’s—probably genuine, but still self-serving—remorse. If I were to be of any use to Sonny tonight, I had to get away from the whole mess and try to recoup some of my early morning sanity.
Cindy had listened with interest and sympathy to my account of Mark’s and Richard’s actions, and asked only one question: Why did Mark try to place Ellen at the scene?
I shrugged. “He hates all gays. If Ellen had no alibi for that time period, we would at least have had to give her some serious thought, especially since she and Charlie were going through some rough waters at the time.” I lit my hundredth cigarette and cringed at the taste.
“Sonny won’t question her, will he?”
“No, there’s no reason. I hope she never even hears about Mark’s tale. She’s had enough.”
She stood and came over to me and held me tight for a moment. I felt I could have stayed there forever, but she backed away slightly and put on her I-will-be-obeyed voice. “Now, darling, I want you to mix yourself one stiff drink and have it while I make you some scrambled eggs and toast. You have to eat something. And then take a nap. We are going to enjoy tonight, even if World War Three is announced on the six o’clock news.”
It all sounded good to me, except—the way things were going—I thought we might skip the news.
Cindy woke me gently about five o’clock, whispering in my ear, “The two furballs are outside terrorizing the squirrels, and the phone is turned off.”
I yawned. “What amazing good luck.”
We took full advantage of our fortuitous privacy. By six, we were beginning our toilettes for the big night and had forgotten all about what might be on the news. In any event, it was a slow night, with the lead story about a boat chartered by the Loyal Order of the Moose that had managed to run aground near Plymouth, with no casualties. Even the weather was cooperative, the forecast calling for clear skies and a brisk, but not cold, breeze. Ayup!
Our sartorial efforts were not in vain. Cindy actually had her dark curls under some kind of control, piled atop her head, the better to display her long and graceful neck. Her off-white dress had a scoop neck and a rich red and gold sash just below the waist. Her only other touches of color were a sizeable single-ruby necklace of my mother’s and red pumps with her signature stiletto heels, which I suggested should be registered as dangerous weapons.
I felt pretty sharp myself, in my tux with a single-button jacket and the traditional stripe down the trousers. Instead of a tie I wore a white shirt with a frilly jabot, so heavily starched I felt it would break before it would bend. My black slip-ons were as brightly polished as Sonny’s favorite boots.
I was not carrying a weapon, unless you counted the jabot. I figured, if I hugged somebody tight enough, I would probably stab them to death. Otherwise, I was pretty harmless, and the sleek lines of my tux were undisturbed. I even carried a slender cigarette case in the breast pocket.
Driving over to the Tellman Gallery, Cindy chattered happily about who would be there and how they might look. Her monologue required only the occasional “Umm,” and “Oh?” for answers, which was just as well. I was going over Sonny’s carefully detailed plan in my mind, and that was what worried me. Too many details, too much that might go awry.
What if the light blue Toyota wouldn’t start and the rental company sent a black one? Would everyone realize only the color had cha
nged? What if someone actually had a heart attack? The EMTs and their ambulance couldn’t remain aloof, waiting for Zoe. What if Gerald and Rick looked in their briefcase to find that Reed had filled it with one-dollar bills? What if the key to the barn didn’t work? What if they accidentally gave Zoe an overdose and killed her?
“What?”
“For the third time,” Cindy said with some asperity, “Where do you want to park? It’s seven o’clock, as your dear brother requested, and we certainly have a wide choice of spaces. I think he and Trish are the only others here, except the security people. Oh, no, there’s one other car, and one next to it with Mitch and Pino getting out. They actually have on tuxes. Why do they still look like cops? I’ll bet Sonny won’t.”
“Because they feel like cops disguised in tuxedos,” I said. “Sonny simply feels gorgeous. Park by him. I don’t want either of us anywhere near that Toyota.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the so-called getaway car. If there’s going to be a screw up, that’s probably where it will be.”
“Okay.”
As we walked across the parking lot, I noticed a few other cars coming up the road. I was glad. I didn’t want to be conspicuous, glued to the bar, awaiting the switch of the briefcases. On the other hand, if I had to be stuck somewhere, the bar was certainly preferable to the entrance to the men’s room.
Tendering our invitation to the security fellow at the door, we entered the main gallery, where Cindy was immediately cornered by a middle-aged couple I assumed were her customers at the bank.
Smiling vaguely, I continued toward the bar, stopping now and then to give a closer look to this or that painting. One large pastel caught my eye with favor. Three young women were in their garden, one clipping flowers, the other two holding out baskets to receive the bouquets.
The colors mere muted, lines indefinite, the costumes suggested rather than detailed Edwardian design. The overall effect was serene and innocent. I liked it and looked closer. Then I saw that one girl’s hair was combed forward, partially to conceal the fact that she had no ears. A second figure lightly held her friend’s arm, and her smiling face revealed no eyes. The third—by now I knew what I was looking for—was drawn with her face in shadow provided by a large, period straw hat, and of course, she had no mouth.
“You like it?” a high-pitched English voice asked. It was Tweedledum, alias Gerald.
“Very powerful,” I said. “It’s also lovely, and your moral is quite definite. You’d have to be blind or deaf these days not to hear evil, or to see it. And you’d have to be mute not to speak evil. We all do it from time to time, even though we may try not to. Yes, I like it. Is it your work?”
He actually blushed. “Yes. Not everyone understands. They just think it’s freaky. I will make you a gift of it. I’m leaving anyway. I want someone who understands it to have it. What’s your name and I will tell Betsy you will pick it up after tonight.”
“That’s very kind. It will be particularly meaningful after tonight. Are you sure about this? It would probably sell easily.” My fingers reached out of their own accord and stroked one girl’s cheek.
“Very sure.” He nodded. “Your name?”
“Now don’t scream and go flying out.” A waiter approached with a tray of champagne glasses. I took two and handed one to Gerald. “My name is Alex Peres, but I’m only here to watch out for Zoe. Dana called me, and I don’t want Reed to take advantage of Zoe, or make himself out some hero to the crowd.”
He swallowed half of his champagne in a gulp. “Good. Reed’s a rotter if I ever met one. I’m glad you’ll be with her. Dana says you’re good stuff.” He looked at his watch. “Reed should be here in about ten minutes. When I see him I’ll go in the office, ring the barn, and Rick will come down with the briefcase for him.”
I nodded, and we both set our glasses on a convenient table. “We’d better separate. In case Reed is early, he shouldn’t see us together. Thank you again for the picture. I’ll treasure it.”
We shook hands and he walked away, leaving me feeling as if I should model for a portrait of Judas. I had to resist an almost overwhelmingly strong urge to go tell him to beware blue Toyotas and have Cindy slip the keys to her red Civic into his pocket.
I checked my watch and walked a few feet from the bar, ostentatiously studying a piece of statuary that looked to me like the cornerstone of a building, or possibly the headstone of a grave. Quickly dropping that thought, I looked over and saw my mother, shackled as usual by Choate Ellis. She looked desperately at me for help, but I simply smiled and waved and walked back to the bar. I knew she would love that.
I took another glass of champagne. I nodded and smiled and waved to various people and spoke to a few who came to the bar for hard drinks or beer. But I didn’t move. My mother looked worried, and the last thing I needed was a parental visit to my guard post.
I managed to catch Trish’s eye and pointed at Mom. Trish frowned, then her face cleared. She took Cindy and started across the floor to assure my mother—I hoped—that I would not shortly be falling-down drunk.
I turned back to see Reed standing nearby, ordering a double Scotch straight up and placing a briefcase at the end of the bar. We nodded to each other, but apparently neither of us could think of anything to say, and I wandered back to my statuary, where I could keep an eye on him.
He finished his drink and ordered another one. I hoped it didn’t make him nasty. About the same time, Rick sauntered up to the bar with his attaché case, placed it near Reed’s and ordered a Perrier. Smart. Reed tossed off his second drink, picked up Rick’s case and started for the door. I patted my marble mystery good-bye, set my glass on top of it, swiped a red and a green cherry from the bar and placed them artistically in the glass, to the amusement of the bartender, and went into my bloodhound act. I passed a smiling Rick as he picked up an obviously weighty case and sidled toward the back door.
Chapter 26
There was a quarter moon, which didn’t provide much light, and as the wind picked up, it caused clouds to scud across the narrow crescent, making what light there was intermittent. The driveway up to the barn was not well maintained, with deep ruts and loose rocks that were giving me trouble in my leather-soled shoes. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and heard the sound of shoes scraping along behind me.
Turning quickly, I was not happy to see Cindy and Trish hobbling in my wake, arms around each other’s waist, making a rough go of it in their high heels.
“Go back,” I called softly. “You’re going to break your necks, and you’re making a racket.”
“You’re not going up there by yourself!” Cindy hissed. “Did you see how much Reed was drinking?”
“Yes. I’ll be okay if I don’t break a leg getting there. Stay back, dammit.” I turned and tried to go faster. Reed was almost at the barn.
I was not far behind him when he reached the door. I slowed and tried moving only when the moon was covered. Still, I wondered why he didn’t hear me. In one fairly lengthy bright period, I realized he was bent in concentration over the door, apparently having trouble with the key. I was now only a few feet behind him, and even Cindy and Trish were making progress.
Just what we needed: the four of us standing around trying to look as if we always took a moonlight stroll up the Matterhorn, while Zoe awoke, dizzy from her Snow White sleep, and fell naked out the window.
Ah, now he had it open. Why didn’t he turn on the interior lights? The switch was right inside the door. If I knew it from Dana, surely the guys had told him. I couldn’t really see, but sensed he had gone through the dark door and was inside. I got to the door and felt for the switch, moving it up and down with no results. Probably as some last-minute attempt to make Reed’s life more difficult, they had thrown the master switch, and God knows where that was. I took a step forward and stumbled over a bale of hay.
I wondered how the hell old it was, and then remembered Betsy had told me they had stabled two horses
for the summer. A couple they knew just couldn’t bear to leave their pets at home in New Jersey, pining for them. What was it Fitzgerald said? That the rich were different? Indeed they were.
Reed’s feet clattered off to the left, telling me he had found the stairs leading to the apartment on the second floor. Hopefully now I could turn on the mini flashlight I carried on my key ring. It was strong for its size, and I immediately picked out the foot of the staircase.
As silently as possible, I ascended the stairs and crept through the guys’ living room and the tiny hall toward the kitchen. I noticed a flickering light ahead of me. My God, instead of bringing a flashlight, Reed was using some kind of large cigarette lighter that he had for his pipe! An open flame in a barn full of straw and hay. Swell. I’d discourage that as soon as I caught up with him.
Betsy and Jan had told me that the barn apartment had a living room, bedroom, bath and kitchen. They had planned to add another bedroom and bath on the other side of the kitchen, but hadn’t yet done so. Consequently, the end wall of the kitchen, really wasn’t a wall at all, but several vertical two-by-fours with a sheet of canvas nailed over them and a thin plywood door opening onto the rest of the loft. It was here that Zoe was domiciled when the Tweedles weren’t home, in case someone should come into their apartment.
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