‘It began with a literary pastiche called “Bloody Rights or Bloody Rites”. It satirized them as being all puerile bluster and no action.’
‘They were not amused,’ Rocco added.
‘What are the faculty members after?’ Norbert asked.
‘Morgan was chairman of a department, and there’s a battle over the appointment to a new endowed chair,’ Lyon said. ‘The faculty takes that sort of business rather seriously.’
‘Captain,’ the second corporal said. ‘There’s a civilian van coming up the drive.’
Norbert snapped around to see a television remote unit with a satellite dish on the roof approaching. It was stopped fifty yards from the house by a Murphysville police officer.
‘Oh, Christ!’ the state police captain said. ‘How do these paparazzi do it? If we were that efficient, the crime rate would drop thirty per cent.’ He went through the open French doors that led into the living room. When no one followed, he gave an impatient signal to Rocco. ‘Come on, let’s get a rough statement down before we get buried by the reporters. Keep the media away from the house!’ he yelled to one of his corporals. He put his arm around Lyon’s shoulder. ‘I hope there is a logical explanation for everything that’s happened here, Mr Wentworth. By the way, where is Senator Beatrice Wentworth?’
‘She’s out of town,’ Lyon said.
‘Let’s get your feedback on what we’ve got so far,’ Norbert said. He read from his corporal’s notes and made slashing checks at each item. ‘The deceased was Warren Morgan, chairman of the English department at Middleburg University. He was evidently a man of exceptionally poor social skills. The deceased was under some sort of ritualistic sentence of death by some cult of the devil. Two days ago he parked his modified Winnebago in the Wentworths’ drive. Last night, prior to the murder, there was a small gathering for drinks and barbecue at the Wentworth home. Present were two teachers from the university, Morgan’s half-brother and sister, along with the sister’s boyfriend. The victim, Morgan, and the host, Wentworth, were also present.
‘At some point during the night or early morning, Wentworth was possibly drugged. While in a confused state of mind he was pursued by a hooded individual waving a large sword.’ Norbert looked up at Lyon and slowly shook his head before continuing. ‘Wentworth evidently passed out during this attack. He awakened at about the time Chief Herbert arrived to check out a phone request from Mrs Wentworth, who was not present during these activities.’ He gave a baleful look at Lyon. ‘You are evidently a very sound sleeper. Morgan was last seen alive when he retired to his armored vehicle parked in the Wentworths’ drive. He was observed closing and locking the combination door that led into the vehicle. This morning Chief Herbert discovered Mr Wentworth dazed and wandering toward the house wearing blood-smeared clothing and carrying a large antique sword. The medical examiner states that the deceased’s injuries could have been made by that type of sword. Forensic tests on the blood spatters are yet to be performed. The deceased’s body was found inside the armored vehicle. Access into said vehicle was gained by the only other person besides the victim who possessed the combination to the door, Lyon Wentworth.’
Lyon nodded. ‘That seems correct. I know this all sounds rather bizarre,’ Lyon said tiredly.
Norbert glared at Rocco and gestured toward the hallway. Both men stepped into the kitchen. As soon as the senior police officers left the room, the attitude of the remaining corporals moved from attentive note-taking to guardianship. They shifted positions and seemed alert to any abrupt movements by Lyon.
‘You know, Herbert, I don’t really need this,’ Norbert said. ‘This guy’s wife is one of the most prominent state legislators in Connecticut. She’s a friend of the governor, at least one of our US senators, and my commissioner. On top of that, this guy comes up with a story that makes me want to believe in the tooth fairy. Jesus, I can’t win on this one.’
‘He happens to be my closest friend, Norbie,’ Rocco said.
‘The guy, Wentworth, he’s not in local politics or connected to the financial community, is he?’
‘No. He’s still writing children’s books, mostly about things he calls his Wobbly monsters,’ Rocco said.
‘I hope he’s not a goddamn intellectual.’
‘He’s a trustee of Middleburg University.’
‘Jesus, why did you involve me? A hell of a brother-in-law you are. In the past you’ve always been the one to fight for your jurisdictional rights to keep us out of a case.’
‘I couldn’t take jurisdiction this time, Norbie. I’ll do anything in the world I can to help Lyon, but my conflict of interest is so obvious the media would hang us both if I stay on the case. That would do more harm than good for Lyon.’
Norbert sighed. ‘God. I’m stuck with a no-win deal here.’ He shook himself as if to ward off further onslaughts. ‘We’re knee-deep in barn droppings, Rocco. You neatly disqualified yourself, but how long do you think it’s going to take for the media to find out that you and I are related by marriage? About ten seconds, that’s how long. So, I’m warning you. I want any information you have, or your conduct goes straight to a one-man grand jury. What else do you have? And I mean really what else!’
Rocco’s craggy facial lines seemed to harden into rocky faults as his inner torment became obvious to the state police officer. ‘There’s been talk recently.’
‘Of what? Damn it all, man, spit it out!’
‘Forget it.’ Rocco started back toward the living room.
‘Forget hell!’ Norbert grabbed the chief’s arm and whirled him around. Although he had to tilt his head to look up at Rocco, it didn’t seem to diminish his belligerency. ‘It’ll come out eventually. You know it always does. What do you know?’
‘It’s unconfirmed. So forget it.’
‘Something about Senator Wentworth playing house with the deceased?’ Norbert asked.
‘Where’d you get that crap?’
‘From your wife, my sister. And it could be true.’
‘It’s just stupid talk that Martha picked up somewhere, and I can’t possibly believe it.’
‘It’s a possible motive.’
‘Hell, Norbie, it’s only beauty-parlor gossip.’
‘We don’t have to prove motive, Rocco,’ Norbert said. ‘All we have to produce is probable cause as to who done it. The motive bit narrows down our suspect list, which in this case seems to have a single name on it.’
‘There are others who had it in for Morgan,’ Rocco said.
‘Your friend in the living room was in possession of what will probably turn out to be the murder weapon. He was covered in blood. You tell me that when you found him he seemed dazed and confused. He had the opportunity, since he possessed the door combination, and he had a possible motive. Jesus, Rocco, the only thing left to get is his confession.’
‘Assuming the forensics check out.’
‘I would be amazed if they didn’t,’ Norbert said as he started through the swinging door.
‘At this point Lyon had best shut up,’ Rocco said.
Again Norbert performed his belligerent pivot to approach Rocco. ‘You keep your mouth shut? In fact, why don’t you get the hell out of here, since this is my case?’
‘There’s a matter of reading his rights,’ Rocco said.
‘When I make the arrest. A couple more loose ends and then we make the arrest and go for the confession. That’s when he gets his Miranda. But I’m warning you, Herbert. Back off and don’t interfere.’ His anger seemed to increase the angle of his strut as he stormed back to the living room with Rocco reluctantly following. ‘A few more loose ends, Mr Wentworth,’ Captain Norbert said in an even and reasonable voice. ‘I assume that the deceased was more than a casual acquaintance of yours.’
‘At one time I taught in his department. We’ve known each other for nearly fifteen years.’
‘And how long have you known of the deceased’s affair with Senator Wentworth?’
Lyon’s
face rapidly merged through a series of emotions. The sequence began with blank incomprehension which shifted temporarily into anger and finally humor. ‘You’ve got to be kidding?’
‘I do not joke,’ the captain replied.
‘That’s for sure,’ Rocco agreed.
Lyon laughed. ‘My wife is a very independent person, but Morgan …’ He laughed again.
‘Let’s go back to when you were on the Middleburg faculty,’ Norbert said.
‘We were both instructors in the same department before I resigned to pursue my career as a freelance writer.’
‘I wanted to get to that,’ the captain said. ‘You write anything we might know?’
‘My most successful book was one I did a few years ago during the Bicentennial. You may have heard of Nancy Goes to Mount Vernon.’
Norbert made no effort to conceal his disdain. ‘Years ago we used to confiscate filth like that. I remember one hot number in particular called Debbie Does Dallas.’
Rocco was unable to control himself any longer. ‘For God’s sake! The man writes children’s literature.’
Norbert shrugged. ‘Whatever. We can assume that Senator Wentworth knew the deceased for an equal amount of time, that is to say fifteen years?’
‘You know, Captain, at this point, you’ve really lost me,’ Lyon said.
Norbert nodded. ‘I see. Can we assume that you are terminating this interview, Mr Wentworth?’
‘You may so assume,’ Lyon answered.
‘In that case,’ Norbert said as he stood before Lyon, ‘I must warn you.’ He held out his hand toward one of the ever present corporals, who promptly slapped a laminated Rights Warning card in his palm.
Rocco pushed Captain Norbert aside and clicked a handcuff over Lyon’s right wrist. ‘It’s my collar, Norbie. You are under arrest,’ he said to Lyon. ‘You have the right to remain silent. You are not required to say anything to us at any time or to …’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Bea Wentworth said from the French doors. ‘He didn’t kill Morgan. I did!’
Three
‘What in the hell is going on here?’ Captain Norbert’s face flushed a deep red. His quick angry glance included everyone in the room. ‘Are you deliberately creating a circus here, Herbert? What sort of stupid games are you people playing?’
‘I’m making it my collar, Norbie,’ Rocco answered. ‘Wentworth is my prisoner.’
‘Come with me, Chief,’ Norbert said as he gestured Rocco back into the kitchen. As soon as they were alone, the state police captain exploded in a paroxysm of whispered rage. ‘What are you doing? Are you trying to taint all our actions out here today? This is unprofessional behavior of the worst magnitude and the state’s attorney will be so informed.’
‘You wear blinkers, Norbie,’ Rocco responded. ‘And you always have. Once you zero in on a suspect, you move the rocks of hell to gather more evidence for your conviction, but never look around the corner for another suspect. Your blinkers don’t allow you to see beyond the one you’ve decided on, Captain. You’ve always been that way and so are a lot of other cops.’
‘Your fear of conflict of interest seems to have flown with the rest of your senses.’
‘My best friend is going to twist in the wind if I don’t help him. I know in the depths of my being that he is innocent.’
‘Innocent! I’ve got everything except a confession or eyewitness. And tell me what in hell the senator is pulling?’
‘Pulling?’
‘She’s evidently playing games, unless …’He stopped in mid-sentence, to continue in a conspiratorial tone. ‘Unless they are both in it together. The family Wentworth knocked Morgan off and will now cover for each other. I’ve ridden that merry-go-round before.’
‘I’m buying Lyon some time, Norbie. Now go along with me on this and don’t hound the state’s attorney for your warrant.’
‘I’ll be in his office a half hour after I leave here. If you don’t have that man arraigned no later than tomorrow, you are in deep shit, Herbert.’
Rocco turned without a word and returned to the living room. Norbert followed, but his voice dropped two unctuous registers as he approached Bea. ‘There are circumstances here, Senator, that—’
‘I demand to be remanded into custody,’ Bea said. ‘I insist on being fingerprinted and shoved in a lineup.’
‘We don’t have lineups in Murphysville,’ Rocco said tiredly. ‘Everyone knows everyone else.’
‘Isn’t anyone interested in my confession?’ Bea asked. ‘Take those cuffs off Lyon and slap them on me.’
‘Oh, Christ, the media is going to crucify all of us,’ Norbert mumbled.
‘You haven’t had any firearms training, Bea,’ Rocco said. ‘Only a trained marksman could have pulled off the shot that killed Morgan.’
‘Nice try, Rocco,’ she replied. ‘Except that I know he was killed with a sword. It so happens that I was on the fencing team in college. You can verify that from my yearbook.’
‘Morgan’s fatal wounds were hardly the result of fancy épée thrusts.’
‘The saber was always my weapon of choice,’ Bea responded.
Norbert was fascinated by this pert, feisty woman who stood defiantly before them. Bea Wentworth was slightly under medium height, with a figure that might be described as petite except for the fullness of her breasts and hips. Her short hair was worn in a fashion that bracketed her face and gave her a gamin-like appearance. This innocent quality was usually belied by the darting intelligence and intensity of her eyes. Norbert had known her casually for years, and had followed her political career from state representative to secretary of the state and then state senator. He had also watched several television interviews when she was spokesperson for a cause or sponsor of specific legislation.
Patrolman Jamie Martin of the Murphysville police force stuck his head through the French doors. ‘Call for you on the radio, Chief. Dispatcher can’t get through on land lines. He says the first selectman is really pissed that you missed her meeting.’ Rocco groaned and followed the officer out.
‘I was told you were in Washington, Senator Wentworth,’ Norbert muttered in a polite voice far below his usual interview standards.
‘I left last night and drove straight home to Connecticut.’
‘Do I handcuff one of them or both?’ the taller of the state police corporals asked.
‘Hold on and let me sort this out,’ Norbert answered. He struggled to regain his interview dominance. As a consequence, his next question was asked in a manner more harsh than intended. ‘And you were somehow able to open a locked RV door? Once inside, you managed to overpower Morgan?’
‘I knew where the door’s combination was kept. It doesn’t take much strength to murder a sleeping man.’
‘You had the combination? How strange!’ Norbert said as he searched back through his notes. ‘And how did you manage to obtain the combination? I understood that the lock was recently changed and only Lyon and Morgan knew the new setting.’
‘It was quite simple actually. I merely went to where Lyon kept the combination and let myself in,’ Bea said.
Norbert looked at Lyon. ‘Where Lyon kept the combination? Where he’d written it down for the world to see?’
‘Not hardly everyone,’ Bea said. ‘I’m the only one who knows that Lyon can’t remember things like his own social security number. He records all his important numbers in the same place: on the pull-out shelf at his desk. All manner of our life’s numerology are scribbled on a yellow piece of typewriter paper he scotch-taped there years ago.’
Lyon blanched in a manner so noticeable that Norbert and his corporals exchanged glances.
‘Is what she says true?’ the state police captain asked Lyon.
‘Well, yes. Bea knows I jot down all sorts of numbers in that particular place.’
‘Including the RV door combination?’
‘Yes.’ He turned to his wife. ‘Nice try, honey, but I really don’t need you to do this
for me.’
‘Let’s get back to work. I believe we were discussing your affair with the deceased, Senator Wentworth.’
‘My what?’
‘We were about to develop detailed facts concerning your liaison with Morgan. The affair is a rather important element in this case, since it provides motive. A motive which someone brought to the attention of the state police. It is almost immaterial which one of you was the actual perpetrator, since the existence of the affair provides a possible motive for either or both of you.’
Bea looked startled. ‘I don’t mean to appear hopelessly naive, but what affair are you referring to?’
‘Were you involved with the deceased?’
‘Captain, Morgan was a very talented man, in some ways a very interesting man. Believe me when I say that a sexual relationship with him would be as likely as my seduction by Rasputin.’
‘Will you please answer the question directly? Were you lovers?’
‘That’s even more preposterous than her killing him,’ Lyon said.
‘We have known him for years,’ Bea said. ‘We met him during the early days of our marriage, when Lyon and Morgan were new instructors at the university.’
‘Then you were good friends with the man?’
‘I won’t say friends,’ Bea replied. ‘I’m not sure anyone was really friends with Morgan. Perhaps longtime acquaintances would be a better term.’
Captain Norbert sighed. ‘To move on. Can you tell me where you were yesterday and last night, Senator?’
‘I was at a convention of women legislators in Washington DC,’ Bea said. ‘I was at meetings all day yesterday and attended the banquet last night. I drove home immediately after the dinner.’
‘Nope.’ Rocco stood in the doorway shaking his head. ‘Nice try, but no way, Beatrice. You spent the night with a United States senator.’
‘What senator?’ Norbert asked softly. ‘Is he, pray tell, from the State of Massachusetts?’
Lyon shook his head in disgust at the man’s prurient interest. ‘She was probably with Senator Katherine Turman, who has a husband and five kids.’
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