Murder in Vail

by Moore,Judy

  Expressionless, the detective nodded at Lance. “Don’t worry. Our officers will be responsible with your belongings.”

  Lance thanked him. “Detective, when do you think we’ll be able to return to our rooms?”

  “Oh, not for quite some time,” the detective answered. “We’ll let you know when the upstairs rooms are cleared. But for the time being, Mr. Braddock, we’re setting up interview rooms in the dining room, the kitchen, and the downstairs study. We’ll be doing extensive interviews with all members of the household. Actually, we’re almost ready to begin. You’ll be interviewed first in the kitchen, and we’ll speak to your wife in the dining room.”

  Detective Jackson made an announcement to the group about the interviews and ordered them to remain in the living room unless they were being escorted to an interview room. “Anyone needing to use the facilities will be escorted by an officer.”

  Yvette whispered to Lance. “It’s like we’re all suspects and under arrest.”

  “We basically are,” Lance said, taking hold of her hand. “The detective just told me they want to interview you in the dining room. They’re interviewing me in the kitchen.”

  A look of panic entered Yvette’s eyes.

  “What should I say?”

  “Just answer their questions as best you can,” Lance told her. “The sooner we get these interviews done, the sooner we can get out of here.”

  Each family member and Helga rotated through the various police interviewers, some of the sessions taking up to two hours or more. Detective Jackson went back and forth between the interviews and checking with the crime technicians upstairs. By midnight, there seemed to be no end to the questioning in sight, and Helga asked if she could prepare some sandwiches and cold drinks for both the family and the police. The detective readily agreed and an officer accompanied Helga to the kitchen where she put together dozens of roast beef, ham, and tuna fish finger sandwiches, along with potato chips and cookies. All the food disappeared quickly.

  The dogs had been howling at all the strange noises in the house on and off the entire evening. Stephen asked if Goldie and Silver could be taken out for a walk, and he was told two officers would walk them. Stephen led a policeman and a policewoman to the laundry room and calmed down the excited dogs long enough to attach their leashes to their collars. The friendly dogs didn’t mind being taken for a walk by the strangers, and eagerly accepted dog biscuits offered by the officers. But they barked for a half an hour straight when they were put back in the laundry room.

  Duchess fared much better. A burly policeman with a grey crewcut took her for a long walk in the front yard and seemed to fall in love with the little dog. While keeping his eye on the family in the living room, he held Duchess, gave her treats, and talked baby talk to her the entire time Yvette was being interviewed. When the interview was over, he reluctantly handed her back to her owner.

  A little before 1:00 a.m. Detective Jackson stood before the group with two technicians. “To begin eliminating people as suspects, we will need to take your fingerprints and get a DNA sample from each one of you. It’s just a swab in the mouth and is not painful.”

  “Is this necessary, Detective?” Lance said. “It feels like an invasion of our privacy.”

  “I don’t really like the idea either, Lance,” Glen said. “Maybe we should all wait to speak to an attorney first.”

  The detective eyed them impassively. “Well, you don’t have to agree to it if you don’t want to. But it will definitely make us wonder why you don’t want to cooperate.”

  They all looked at each other uncomfortably. It was clear that none of them really liked the idea. But after several moments of discussion, everyone finally agreed to submit to being fingerprinted and having the DNA test done.

  Immediately afterward, the helicopter took off, transporting the samples to the lab.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Gwen had never really been a fan of junk food, but the pepperoni, sausage, and mushroom pizza from the pizzeria up the street from the police station tasted better than any food she’d ever eaten.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned as she swallowed the last bite of the last piece of the large pizza. “Can we get another one?”

  Detective Lindsey Belton chuckled at Gwen and her mother as they finished wolfing down pizza and Pepsi on the wooden end table in her office.

  “I don’t see why not,” answered the athletically-built, auburn-haired detective who stood before them, leaning on the edge of her desk. “After what you’ve been through today, you deserve it.”

  “This is Christmas dinner.” Gwen laughed. “Maybe the best one I’ve ever had.”

  The young detective told them that rooms were being held for them at the nearby Marriott Hotel.

  “But if you’re not too tired, Detective Jackson asked if I would interview you both tonight to get more details about the crime. It will help expedite the investigation.”

  Gwen glanced at her mother. “Are you up to it, Mom? Did the doctor’s exam tire you out too much?”

  Sally had a light adhesive bandage on her left wrist. “I’m fine. He just wrapped my wrist. Luckily, it wasn’t a sprain. The doctor said it should be fine in a couple of days.”

  Sally studied Gwen, who looked like she had run a marathon. “If it will help, I’m happy to be interviewed tonight,” Sally volunteered. “But I’m not sure you are, Gwen. You’ve been through a lot today.”

  The detective made a suggestion. “Gwen, I’ll order another pizza for you. Just take your time here relaxing and finishing dinner. Your mother and I will go into the interview room and talk for a while.”

  Gwen agreed and Detective Belton led Sally into the drab room that contained only a small table and two metal chairs. Sally sat across from the detective who told her she was recording their conversation.

  Turning on the tape recorder, the detective asked Sally if she had any idea who might have tried to smother her and if she had been able to catch a glimpse of the person.

  “I wish I had,” Sally answered. “The room was dark and with the pillow over my face, I couldn’t see anything. But the person was strong. They put a knee on my stomach and kept pushing down. I tried, but I couldn’t push them off.”

  “Did you have a sense of whether it was a man or a woman?”

  Sally tried to think back. The person was strong. That was all she knew.

  “The person had a lot of strength, but I was caught so unaware being woken up that I’m not sure. I guess it could have been a woman.”

  “Could you tell what the person was wearing?”

  “Some kind of a jacket, I think, and gloves. I felt the gloves on my wrist when I was trying to fight them off. I felt them twist it.”

  The detective jotted down the information about the gloves on a notepad she had with her.

  “Did you notice anything else? Any smells? Maybe soap, shampoo, lotion?”

  Sally concentrated for a few moments. Everything had happened so fast. Finally, she said, “I don’t think so. I don’t remember smelling anything.”

  “What about sounds? The way the person breathed, possibly a comment or an exclamation?”

  Sally shook her head. “No, the way the pillow was pushed so far over my head, I couldn’t hear anything.”

  “When the assailant was finished and thought you were dead, could you see anything, hear anything?”

  “I was pretending to be dead, so I was afraid to move or open my eyes. I didn’t hear anything.”

  The detective thought for a minute. “What about the pillow? Was it one from your bed or did the attacker bring it along? Could you tell?”

  Sally’s eyes lit up. “I’m pretty sure the pillow was brought from another bed. I had the two pillows from the bed I was in under my head. And the room was dark. They wou
ldn’t have been able to find a pillow.”

  The police detective wrote a long note about the pillow.

  “And, were you wearing make-up when you went to bed? Or had you taken it off?”

  Sally thought back. She had been so upset about Rachel that day, that she might not have taken the time to take off her makeup.

  “Rachel’s death was so devastating, that I don’t even remember if I put much makeup on that day. I just sat in a rocking chair most of the day and then went up to bed. I think I took a quick shower, but I don’t remember specifically taking any makeup off. So, some might have come off on the pillowcase.”

  Again, Detective Belton wrote a lengthy note on the legal pad.

  “Okay. Now tell me about your daughter-in-law, Rachel. She died the night before, is that right?”

  Sally hung her head. Every time she thought about Rachel, she felt so guilty. If it hadn’t been for her, Rachel would still be alive.

  Chapter Fifty

  Sally recounted the story about how Rachel locked herself in Lance’s room, how she came up with the idea of giving Rachel her own room, and how they made the switch in the middle of the night.

  “Are you sure no one else knew you and Rachel switched rooms?” the detective asked.

  Sally shook her head. “No one else knew. It was after two oʼclock in the morning. The house was quiet. Everyone else was asleep.”

  “You don’t think someone in the house would have had a reason to kill Rachel?”

  Sally frowned and thought about the question. “I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t think it’s likely. Rachel certainly had a way of making people angry, and she definitely upset the household by locking herself in the bedroom. But it just seems like too big of a coincidence that Rachel would be killed the same night as that horrible dinner.”

  The detective’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Tell me about the dinner.”

  Sally let out a long sigh. It was a dinner she would love to forget. She took a deep breath and began the lengthy explanation to the detective about how upset she was before the dinner started because of the situation with Rachel and because Helga had quit.

  “I really lost my temper,” Sally said, cringing at the memory. “I so rarely do that. I had made the decision this fall to donate ninety-five percent of my fortune to charity after Christmas. I planned to tell the children gently over the holidays. But the entire dinner conversation became about money, money, money, and I just got angry. I feel like the money my children received in their trust funds has done nothing but hurt them. I ended up yelling at them that none of them would ever get another cent from me, and that I was donating ninety-five percent of my money to charity right after the holidays.”

  The detective’s eyes widened. “Hmmm. I guess we definitely have the motive for the crime. How much money are we talking about?”

  Sally seemed to be doing the calculation in her head. “I plan to donate just over three billion dollars to the Warren Buffett/Bill Gates Foundation.”

  The detective looked stunned. “Three billion, with a ‘b’?”

  “Yes, billion. My husband was a very good businessman.”

  “I guess so.”

  The detective continued to take notes, underlining ‘billion’ three times.

  “Were any of your children in particular need of additional money?”

  Sally nodded. “They all were.”

  The detective wanted to know details, and Sally filled her in on the financial situations of her children and their spouses.

  “And if they asked you for assistance, were you adamant that you would not help any of them?”

  “Absolutely. I told them that, and they knew I was serious. Each of them had received twenty-five million dollars in their trust funds. If they squandered that, it was on them. I felt they were all being irresponsible. If they needed more money, I wasn’t going to give it to them. I felt they could sell some of their assets. They all have houses, cars.”

  The detective zeroed in on Sally’s children’s need for money.

  “So basically, everyone in the house would have benefited from your death. Especially before you gave the money to charity, which you’re planning to do, when?”

  “The day after New Year’s I’m meeting with my attorney.”

  “Still?”

  “Oh yes. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “And how much would each of your children have received upon your death before you made the donation?”

  Again, Sally stopped to calculate. “Well, in my current will, I designated to give one billion dollars to the charities I support. The other two billion would have basically been split three ways. So what’s that? About $650 million each, I believe.”

  The detective seemed shocked at the numbers. “Definitely a strong motive,” she said, writing down the figures. “What about other relatives,” the detective asked. “Extended family.”

  “All I have is one brother, Ed, who’s an aeronautical engineer. He does quite well. He wouldn’t take any of my money if I forced it on him. Jack’s mother and his sister Denise are both independently wealthy and wouldn’t be expecting anything from me.”

  “And the housekeeper. What about her? Would she have benefitted from your will?”

  Sally nodded. “I left her the house and a one million dollar a year endowment for the rest of her life. She has been the caretaker of the house for twelve years. I wanted her to have it.”

  “Did she know that?”

  Sally considered the question. “I don’t believe so. I never told her.”

  The detective looked at her watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock.

  “Just one last question for tonight, Mrs. Braddock. I know you must be tired. Why did you confide in your daughter, Gwen? How could you be sure that she wasn’t the one who tried to kill you?”

  Sally smiled. “That’s easy. First, I know my daughter would never dream of doing that to me. We have our issues, but I know she loves me. I knew for sure, though, because every Christmas morning since she was a little girl, she has snuck into my room and tickled me to wake me up to wish me Merry Christmas. She did the same thing to me today. She wouldn’t have done it if she thought I was dead.”

  “That makes sense,” the detective agreed. “It’s a good thing you had someone in your corner that you knew you could trust. I hate to think what might have happened up there if your daughter hadn’t been able to reach us so quickly.”

  The detective closed her notebook and stood up. “We’ll have more questions for you and your daughter tomorrow, but that will do it for tonight. The only things we still need to get from both of you before you leave are your fingerprints and a DNA test. It’s just a quick swab.”

  “I understand,” Sally said. “Whatever you need.”

  Chapter Fifty-one

  It was nearly 4:00 a.m. when Yvette and Lance were finally escorted to their bedroom. A uniformed officer stood watch outside the room. Lance immediately began checking the state of his collections. He spent fifteen minutes making sure that nothing was missing. Grumbling that several items had been moved, he straightened and rearranged his valuables to their original position.

  Yvette went directly to the bathroom sink and began scrubbing her fingertips to get all the ink off from the fingerprinting. They ruined my manicure, she thought with annoyance. Then she hurried into the shower and let the warm water pour over her for nearly twenty minutes. Exhausted and upset, she couldn’t wait to get out of Colorado and back to California.

  Once they had settled into bed, Duchess next to her on the pillow, Yvette turned to Lance. “They kept asking me the same questions over and over and over again. ‘What rooms did you go into? What did you touch? Did you hear anything? Did you see anyone in the hall? Was anyone acting suspiciously? Who would ha
ve a motive for trying to kill your mother-in-law?’ How many times can you answer the same question? How many times can you say ‘No, I don’t know anything’?”

  Lance lay his head back on the pillow and turned toward her, his eyes heavy with weariness. “I know. I felt the same way. They kept asking about the dinner the night before, how much we would inherit, what our financial situation is, what our wills say. They asked the same question ten different ways like they were trying to catch me in a lie.”

  “Do you think they’re starting to figure it out, Lancie? Do you think they have a suspect?”

  “I don’t know. They’re pretty tight-lipped about everything.”

  “Lance, what if the police can’t figure it out? What if they never figure it out? That happens all the time on TV.”

  Lance frowned. “That’s an uncomfortable scenario. We could be having family dinners for years with a murderer among us.”

  “Then we’re never coming near any of them ever again. Your mother can come visit us in L.A.”

  Lance was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Let’s not worry about that now. We’ll just have to wait and see what the police come up with. I’m exhausted, honey. Let’s get some sleep.” He reached over to take her hand, but got a handful of Duchess’s fur instead.

  Down the hall, the police were escorting Stephen to the study, and Glen to his and Gwen’s bedroom. They both stared at the crime scene tape that crossed the doors of both the master suite and Stephen’s bedroom where Sally had been attacked.

  “Long night.” Stephen sighed. “I just hope they learned something from all of this.”

  “I know,” Glen said, turning into his room. “I don’t know what their plans are for us next. We’ll just have to see what tomorrow brings.”