Murder in the Museum_Edmund DeCleryk Mysteries

by Karen Shughart

  Jon glanced at Ed’s ID card. “Emily, my wife, lives in Lighthouse Cove.” He paused. “Oh, my God. Has something happened to her?”

  Ed responded, “If you don’t mind, let’s go into your office and sit down.”

  The office decor complemented the gallery. The walls in this space were a pale silvery gray with dove gray trim, and a 1960s black glass Parsons table served as Jonathan’s desk. Bucket-shaped chairs upholstered in ivory suede, a chandelier with a multitude of glass prisms, and a cream and gray chevron patterned rug covering most of the polished concrete floor, created a dramatic appearance. An immense, overgrown fern in a large concrete urn sat in a corner, a recessed grow-light shining down on it from the ceiling.

  Jon Bradford’s eyes welled up with tears when Ed informed him about Emily’s death. He seemed genuinely shocked and distressed, but Ed had enough experience as an investigator to know that charming men could also be sociopaths and as such, convincing actors.

  When he realized part of Ed’s mission was to question him about his whereabouts on the night of Emily’s death, Jon volunteered that he would have been the last person who wanted Emily dead.

  “I learned the two of you had separated.” Jon nodded. “Why?” Ed asked.

  Jon sighed, his voice catching as he responded, “It’s a long story. Emily had had some real tragedy in her life. Her parents had been killed by a drunken driver on Rt. 90, and as an only child she had no one, other than me, to lean on.”

  Ed responded, “That’s very sad and must have been terribly difficult for her.”

  “It was, and it put a strain on our marriage, although we’d been having some problems before that. My long hours and frequent business trips, her devotion to her students that consumed so much of her time, all of it took precedence over our relationship. I suppose her parents’ death took her over the edge. She became increasingly more withdrawn at home.”

  Jon admitted that Emily’s emotional distance bothered him, but he had no idea what was really going on until she confessed she had recently ended an affair with a Xerox executive named Eric Sewall, a student in one of the creative writing classes she’d taught a couple nights a week for older adult learners. She told Jon that when she’d met Eric he was separated from his wife. He’d been kind and exceptionally attentive, which, given her vulnerability at the time, was very seductive.

  Eric was also needy and emotionally unstable. A few months after the affair started, he told Emily he planned to get a divorce and began pressuring her to divorce Jon and marry him. She realized she was not in love with him and still loved Jon, so broke things off. Obsessed and desperate, he started stalking her, showing up outside her classroom, waiting for her in the parking lot near the building where she taught, sending flowers to her at her office, texting her at all hours of the day and night.

  “I was terribly angry and very upset with Emily but also concerned about her safety and suggested she go to the police about the stalking,” Jon said. “She believed, and at the time I thought it was reasonable, that if she ignored Eric he would eventually go away.”

  “She said she loved me and hoped we could work on saving our marriage. I still loved her and didn’t want to see an end to years of a happy relationship, so I forgave her, but when I suggested we get counseling she refused, saying that she simply didn’t have the energy for it. Then it seemed that all we did was argue, and after several tense months, we separated, and she moved into a small studio apartment near the campus. Both of us hoped the separation was temporary and that after some cooling off time we would eventually get back together.”

  Ed sat silently while Jon put his hands over his eyes and wept. After several minutes he stopped, took a couple of shaky breaths and apologized.

  “Jon, you’ve just received horrible news. No need to apologize.”

  Jon shook his head. “I’ll be all right. I just need a little time to pull myself together.”

  After a couple minutes, he took another deep breath and continued, “Emily and I kept in touch, and I found out that ignoring Eric hadn’t worked and the stalking had escalated. She called and begged him to leave her alone, reiterating that she was no longer interested in continuing their relationship. He must have been really desperate to get her back, because he then threatened to go to her department head with details about the affair.” Jon took a breath and shook his head.

  “How did Emily respond to the threat?” Ed asked.

  “Emily didn’t want scandal tied to her name, or to mine,” Jon said. “She was respected and well-liked. She finally went to the police, took out a PFA against Eric and decided to take an early retirement and move to Lighthouse Cove. The overt stalking stopped after the PFA, but we have no idea if he really went away. Maybe you should be looking at him as a suspect.”

  Ed, ignoring Jon’s last remark, changed the subject. “I recently learned Emily was an heiress. She obviously worked because she enjoyed having a career and not because she needed money. It must have been difficult for her to decide to retire.”

  “That’s true. She didn’t need the money. She worked because she loved what she was doing, but her emotional state was so fragile that she couldn’t concentrate on her job. She retired because she felt as though she had no other options. I believed this would have blown over and tried to get her to reconsider, but she was resolute. We both had always loved Lighthouse Cove and had talked about buying a house there, and she decided that now was the time for her to do that. We still keep in touch,” Jon said, using the present tense, “I’ve never stopped loving her.”

  Ed was beginning to believe that Jon Bradford had nothing to do with Emily’s murder, and that he might have a point about the ex-lover as a suspect. Still, he had to take the next step in the interview.

  “Sophie said you were in Buffalo last night,” he said, changing the subject. “Please give me the details about the trip.”

  “I know you have to ask about my whereabouts. I have no problem with that. I went to meet with an up-and-coming glass sculptor to see her work. I can give you her name and contact information. While she’s not yet in the same stratosphere as Dale Chihuly, she has incredible promise, and I wanted to talk with her about exhibiting here at Gallery 21.

  “I got on the thruway at about 6:45 a.m. and planned to come back last night, but the storm you got here yesterday morning didn’t get to Buffalo until late afternoon. We got more snow than you did, and visibility was almost zero, so to play it safe I got a room downtown at the Hyatt, had dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, and was in bed and asleep by about 11 p.m.”

  “Can you provide me with proof you made the trip to Buffalo yesterday?”

  “Yes, I can. I have EZ Pass and will give you my account number and make and model of my car, and you can check with NYDOT. I also have receipts from the hotel and meals––I took the sculptor out to lunch––and from the gas station where I filled up. I’ll be happy to show them to you,” he volunteered.

  Jon gave Ed the sculptor’s name and phone number, his EZ pass account and license plate numbers and produced the receipts from his briefcase. Ed planned to follow-up, but Jon’s alibi seemed credible and the man seemed genuinely grief-stricken over Emily’s death. But was his alibi too well-constructed? He wondered if Jon, furious at her infidelity, could have hired someone to murder Emily while he was on his business trip and made it look like she was killed as the result of the museum burglary.

  “One more question, please. Is your gallery profitable? Just the maintenance on a building like this, plus utilities, insurance and the need for an advanced security system, must cost a bundle.”

  Jon shook his head. “I know what you’re inferring. The gallery’s doing fine, but even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t need Emily’s money to help with any shortfalls. Just so you know, I have plenty of my own from a very large trust fund. My ancestors came over to this country on the Mayflower, and most of my family still lives in Boston. They own several breweries and have some real estate hol
dings on Cape Cod. You’re probably familiar with some of our beers and ales.”

  “Bradford Brewing Company is your family’s business?” Jon nodded. “Of course, I know it. Every restaurant, bar, package store and supermarket in this area carries a selection of your products.”

  Ed paused before continuing, “So, what brought you to Rochester to run a gallery? From what you’ve just told me, you wouldn’t have to work if you didn’t want to.”

  “That’s true, but the thought never crossed my mind to not have a career. I’ve always loved art, particularly sculpture, and was fortunate to have parents who encouraged me and my two brothers to follow our dreams. Emily and I moved here from Boston after I got my Master of Fine Arts degree and she got her doctorate in creative writing and was offered the position at the university. Rochester has such a vibrant arts’ scene that it was the perfect place for me to open a gallery.”

  “You’re fortunate your parents didn’t pressure you into staying in the business.”

  “Yes, I am. My brother Ethan chose to be involved in the family business and is now the chairman of the brewery corporation, but my brother Ted’s an oncology doctor, living in Chicago.”

  “Can you think of anyone who could have benefited financially from Emily’s death?”

  “No. Neither of us was each other’s beneficiary, we didn’t need to be. After she became an heiress, Emily created a foundation that’s run by a law firm headed by an old family friend. She was setting up a large endowment for the museum in Lighthouse Cove, and the foundation’s other donations go to support the arts, human services and education. She has no living blood relatives, and other than the museum, there were no caveats that her money would go to any specific organization after her death, as far as I’m aware.”

  “What about Sophie? Knowing you and Emily were talking reconciliation, could she have been jealous enough to want her out of the way?”

  “Sophie? You think Sophie and I are involved?” Jon barked out a laugh. “I haven’t even dated since Emily and I separated. I just told you we had hoped to get back together, and I certainly wouldn’t muddy the waters by seeing someone else. I’m flattered you think such a beautiful young woman would be interested in me, but nothing could be farther from the truth.”

  “She seems inordinately fond of you.”

  “She is, as I am of her. Sophie is my niece, the oldest daughter of my brother Ted and his wife, Claire. She graduated in the spring from the Eastman School of Music and stayed on in Rochester to perform with a chamber music group as its violinist, along with her boyfriend, Jason, who plays the cello.

  “Most of their rehearsals and performances are in the evening, so when my previous receptionist and her husband, who’s an architect, moved to Ottawa a couple months ago so he could take a job there, I asked Sophie if she wanted to work for me. She agreed but made sure I understood there might be times she would be unavailable if asked to perform or rehearse during the day. She loved Emily. They met for lunch every Wednesday and were, in fact, somewhat kindred spirits. She’ll be devastated to hear about her death.”

  Ed left the gallery after Jon called Sophie into his office to tell her about Emily. She sobbed, doubled over with grief, while Jon, tears running down his cheeks, held her. Promising not only to find her killer but to call as soon as Emily’s body could be released so funeral arrangements could be made, Ed gave Jon his card which contained his email address and cell phone number and asked them to contact him if they could think of anything at all that might help him find Emily’s murderer.

  He’d check his alibi, but he believed Jon had been truthful. The next step would be to seek out the former lover. A PFA could have infuriated him, and if he were emotionally unstable the stalking may have continued without Emily’s knowledge.

  Chapter 10

  Ed called the corporate headquarters for Xerox, which was less than half an hour’s drive from downtown Rochester, hoping to speak with Eric Sewall. A receptionist answered. When he asked to be connected to Sewall’s office, she put him on hold and then after a few seconds informed Ed that he was not listed in the company directory.

  “Do you know where he’s working now?”

  “Sir, I don’t have that information,” the receptionist replied politely. “I don’t even know if he worked here, either. I’ve only been here for three weeks. I can connect you to the Human Resources Department, maybe they can help you. Please hold.”

  Ed waited for about a minute when another woman, who identified herself as Denise, finally answered. When he asked about Sewall, she answered politely that she couldn’t give any information about employees or former employees over the phone and that he would need to speak directly with the human resources director, Phillip Miller.

  “Could you transfer me to his extension, please?” He waited a few seconds, and then Denise came back on the line informing him that Miller was at a meeting but that he had an opening at 1:30 if Ed wanted to meet with him then. Disappointed he wouldn’t be able to talk directly with Sewall, Ed thanked her and told her he’d see Mr. Miller at the appointed time. Annie may have been right. The day was going to be a long one.

  Having more time on his hands than he expected and by now a bit hungry, Ed decided to take an early lunch and walked a half block down the street from the gallery to a pub located next to a quaint shop he thought Annie might like, its display windows featuring an eclectic array of gifts, greeting cards, boutique clothing and packaged gourmet mixes.

  Sitting at the bar, he ordered a turkey burger with lettuce and tomato on a whole grain bun, sweet potato fries and an iced tea. On impulse, he decided to see if he could talk with the head of Emily’s department at the university before going on to Xerox. Maybe that person would have some additional insights about Emily and her former lover, Eric Sewall.

  He called the university switchboard and was connected directly to Dr. Diane Dawson, the chairperson of the writing department, who happened to be in her office. Shocked when he informed her about Emily’s death, Dr. Dawson agreed to meet with Ed at 12:30. He gobbled down the rest of his sandwich, motioned for the bill, and after paying it and leaving a generous tip, walked to his car and headed to the university.

  Chapter 11

  While Ed was in Rochester, Luke and Carrie, who had obtained a key from Suzanne Gordon, drove to Emily’s house to continue the investigation they had started the day before. Carrie told Luke Annie had called her requesting permission to go into the museum basement to get some boxes to bring home and that she’d said Luke had given his approval yesterday.

  Luke responded that he’d been so preoccupied with the details surrounding the investigation that he didn’t remember the conversation, which didn’t surprise Carrie, given the events of the past couple days and his lack of sleep. She agreed he could help Annie after they finished their work there.

  They had just pulled into the driveway when a tech from the crime lab called and reported that while there were plenty of prints found at the museum, they either belonged to board members or staff or couldn’t be identified.

  Surrounded on three sides by water, the house sat at the end of a mile-long peninsula that jutted into Silver Bay at the mouth of the lake. While within walking distance of the small business district, the site had afforded Emily quite a bit of privacy during the off-season since most of her neighbors were professionals who came from the cities during summer months or retirees who left to spend their winters in warmer climates.

  There was no security system; most residents didn’t have one, as there was little crime in Lighthouse Cove. Being within proximity of Canada and on a major international waterway, the village enjoyed the protection of local and state police, the Coast Guard and Homeland Security.

  Donning disposable paper coveralls, booties and plastic gloves, the two investigators entered the house with fingerprinting equipment and cases that would be the repository for collected hair, clothing and blood samples to send to the crime lab in Rochester for evalu
ation. The systematic search began in the foyer, then into the living room and throughout the rest of the house.

  Carrie was struck by the simplicity of the décor, with colors that blended in with the natural outdoor surroundings, mimicking the sea, sand, beach grasses and sky, and radiating light from the many windows facing the water. Books of all sizes and topics lined shelves in every room. In the kitchen, gleaming copper pots and pans hung on a rack above a large cherry island with a black granite top sparkling with gold, green and rust-colored chips. Cherry cabinets with mullioned glass doors contained crystal wine and beverage glasses and simple white dinnerware, and lower drawers revealed tableware and tidy piles of colorful linens. An array of cookbooks, shelved in order of subject matter, lined a built-in case on one wall.

  Nothing seemed out of order in the living room, dining room, bathrooms or guest bedrooms, and Carrie began to believe Emily had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and her murder was a random, and not premeditated, act. But they hadn’t yet combed the kitchen, her bedroom or study for evidence, saving those rooms for last since they were most likely the spaces where Emily had spent the most personal time.

  Emily’s computer, located in her study, had been turned on and was not password protected, so Carrie had no trouble accessing her files. She perused the Word documents first. Emily had been working on a book of poetry, lovely old-fashioned sonnets about love and loss, but there was nothing suspicious in that file or any of the others. She then started looking through her emails and found a string of them that caused her breath to catch. She called Luke into the room and after he read the emails and agreed with her that they were concerning, she copied and pasted them into a flash drive she carried with her on her key chain and forwarded them to herself via email.