by Paul Henke
So what did it all mean? It sounded as though Vanowen was sure his wife had done it. But I was sure she hadn’t. Maybe I was wrong. If I was, then she was a damned good actress. But if she had done it then what did she expect me to find out? She would be far better off taking the manslaughter rap and throwing herself on the mercy of the court. There were plenty of mitigating circumstances that could be thrown at the jury. Crane’s criminal background as well as his blackmailing activities would count for a lot. My line of thinking had brought me to the conclusion that before going to trial she would have to change her plea. Unless I found some real evidence against her husband which was what I’d been counting on all along. Only now I had my doubts about him.
So supposing it was neither of them? Could it have been a third party we knew nothing about? Someone else who was being blackmailed by Crane, who found out about Susan Vanowen and set her up? I shook my head. No, it was impossible. It had to be Vanowen. Yet he sounded convinced his wife had done it. So I was back to square one.
I needed to rethink the whole thing. I made a list of what I knew and who the main players were. There were only two names. I sat staring at the sheet of paper I’d been writing on when I suddenly realised there was a third person with an active interest in what was happening. Somebody on the inside track. I needed to find out more.
I’d noted her name and address. Cheryl Lister lived out in the Bronx. I took the subway. Her apartment was in the basement of a six storey brownstone in an area that could hardly be called salubrious. I crossed over to a diner opposite the apartment and ordered a coffee and a slice of apple pie. The pie was okay, the coffee lousy. I had a stroke of luck, always an important ingredient when working a case. I saw a blonde woman sashaying along the sidewalk from about 50 yards away. It took only a few seconds for me to realise it was Cheryl Lister. She was as attractive as her licence photograph. During the night there had been a rainstorm and the air was pretty fresh for New York. Even so, it was warm and the muggy index was on the rise. I could see she was wearing a silk blouse and a black skirt.
She walked into the diner, ordered a coffee and pecan pie and sat at a table just along from me. We were facing each other but I studiously avoided looking at her. Then I realised that was a mistake. Any hot-blooded male would look. So I did. I smiled and received a smile in return. I moved my gaze to her cleavage, looked back into her eyes and smiled again. She adjusted her blouse with a little squirm. I looked again, smiled my appreciation and left.
Around midnight I returned to the back of the Vanowen house, took both spools from their machines, replaced them with fresh ones and drove back to my apartment. The spool from the study was of no value. The only voice I heard was Vanowen’s mainly fending off the press though occasionally talking to friends commiserating with his situation. His stock reply was the law would take its course and guilt or innocence would be established. At no time did he try and defend his wife.
The spool from the bedroom told me nothing apart from the fact that Vanowen was a sound sleeper. So a dead end on both counts.
Zelda had already made the coffee when I arrived at the office. I greeted her with, ‘Any calls?’
‘Nope. I was intending to phone those two clients we put off. See if they can come in next week. Will that do?’
I figured the Vanowen case would have broken one way or another by then so I nodded. ‘Good thinking.’
Around midmorning the following day the phone rang. Zelda answered and put it through to me.
‘Mrs. Vanowen.’
I took the call. She wanted to see me as soon as possible. That was one good thing with the American justice system. It allowed a felon access to his or her attorney whenever needed. Except in this case Mrs. Vanowen was only a potential felon. If it was possible she looked worse than the last time I’d seen her.
She greeted me with, ‘Have you any news?’
I shook my head. ‘How are you coping?’
‘I’m getting by.’
Which was about all one could hope for.
‘Tell me about Cheryl Lister.’
‘How do you know her name?
‘I’m just being thorough.’
‘She’s my closest friend.’
‘So I gathered. When I visited Perry she was at the house. Are Perry and her close?’
‘No. Just friends. To be honest, I’m not sure Perry likes Cheryl that much. But he puts up with her for my sake. On the other hand, she’s always had a soft spot for him. Ever since I introduced them.’
‘When was that?’
‘A few weeks before I married him. I remember her telling me that if she’d seen him first I wouldn’t have had a look in.’
‘But there was nothing between them?’
‘Good lord, no. I would have known. You can’t keep something like that secret.’
‘Tell me, did she know about the blackmail?’
‘Yes. I told her. I had to tell someone and there was no one else.’
I smiled. ‘I can understand that. She’s obviously a close friend.’
‘Yes, she is. My dearest. We were best friends at high school then we drifted apart. We met by chance in New York a few years ago. Thank goodness we did. She helped me to stay sane.’
‘I’m sure. You must have shared a lot of secrets.’
‘We did. Thanks to her I didn’t try to have kids.’
‘What had she to do with it?’
‘Oh, you know. Pointing out the responsibility, the effect on my freedom, the sheer demands children make on their parents. She managed to put me right off. Which is just as well.’ She looked around the depressing interview room and said, ‘Look at me now. If I’d had kids…,’ she tailed off.
If she’d had kids she wouldn’t be sitting waiting to be tried for murder was my thought.
The upshot of the meeting was that she made it clear she would be changing her plea the next morning. Guilty to third degree murder. She couldn’t take any more. I understood.
I figured there was only one thing left to do. Before hand, I gave Zelda explicit instructions to make a phone call and what to say. I drove out to the Vanowen house. It was evening and the sun was setting. It meant the day was cooling down to a bearable high 70s and for a change the humidity wasn’t stifling. On this occasion I drove up to the front door. A couple of lights were on in the house.
I rang the doorbell and a few moments later the door opened and Vanowen was standing there.
He greeted me with, ‘Oh, it’s you. Get off my property. I’ve nothing to say to you.’
Which was pretty much what I’d been expecting so I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I shoved open the door, causing him to stagger back while I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
‘Get out, damn you.’ He was white with fury. He raised his fist and made as though to hit me.
I held up the palms of both my hands and said, ‘I shouldn’t do that, Mr. Vanowen, if I were you. Otherwise I might have to hurt you and I didn’t come here for that.’
The air left his body taking his bluster with it. ‘Then what have you come here for?’
‘To talk to you.’
‘What about?’
‘You know what about. Your wife. I don’t believe she did it. I don’t think you do either. But I do believe you have a pretty good idea who was responsible.’
‘I need a drink.’ He turned and walked away and I followed him into his study. He poured himself a large whisky, added ice from an ice bucket and then seemed to remember his manners. ‘Care for one?’
‘No, but thanks. I’m working so to speak.’
Now that I could see him more clearly he didn’t appear to be the ruthless cold-hearted man I’d first envisaged. He looked ill. He was pasty white with dark circles under his eyes. There was a slight tremor in his hand when he raised the glass and took a gulp. He walked around his desk and sat down. ‘Take a seat. Stand. Leave, I don’t care.’
I sat. ‘You look lousy.’
‘I feel lousy. Probably going down with something. Too much heat, humidity and air-conditioning. It makes for a bad atmosphere. Probably a summer cold or flu.’
‘It’s none of those things and you don’t really think so either.’
He drank some more whisky. ‘How do you know what I think?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t. I’ve one question. Will you answer it?’
He looked warily at me. ‘Depends on what it is.’
‘Did Cheryl know where Susan kept her gun?’
Vanowen leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. For a moment I thought he’d passed out. Then he opened them and stared fixedly at me.
‘Well?’ I said.
He just stared at me. The house was silent but I heard a slight noise. Like clothes rustling. I hoped my hearing wasn’t deceiving me. I supressed a smile.
‘Are you alone?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Please answer my question.’
He shook his head, frowned and asked, ‘How do you know about Cheryl?’
‘The day I came here I saw her car in the drive. Her purse was in it, I looked inside and found her licence. I went out to the Bronx to take a closer look at Miss Lister and she turned up in the diner where I was having a lousy coffee and a piece of pretty good pie. I exchanged a few words with her. She has a similar accent to Susan. I saw Susan earlier today and she told me how Cheryl had been her best friend. That was all. The reason I’m asking these questions is to make sure there isn’t a miscarriage of justice. The fact is, I don’t believe your wife is guilty. At least, not of killing Crane. Having sex with the man yes, as guilty as sin. But that’s all she’s guilty of. So about the gun.’
‘I don’t know. I suppose so. The two of them spent hours together in Susan’s den. God alone knows what they found to talk about.’
‘On the night Crane died, care to tell me what happened?’
‘Susan and I went to bed as usual. Separate bedrooms. I had drank too much and slept like a log. Susan, I’m sure, would have taken a sleeping pill and gone out like a light.’
‘Did you know Cheryl’s circumstances?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Where she lived? What she did for a living?’
‘Not really. She was a secretary of some sort. Worked for a law firm. Seemed to be doing okay for herself. I’ve no idea where she lived. I never went there.’
‘Did Susan ever visit Cheryl’s place?’
He frowned and after a few seconds said, ‘I don’t think she ever did. Why?’
‘No particular reason.’ It was a question I should have asked Susan.
‘Why all this interest in Cheryl? I told you, she and Susan were very close. Still are I think.’
I nodded as though in agreement. The only problem was, if Cheryl thought so highly of Susan, why hadn’t she visited the prison or at least called her dearest friend?
‘You must understand, Mr. O’Brian, when I married Susan I thought it was for keeps. I’ve been unlucky in marriage and thought she was the one. I wanted kids. She said she wanted them as well. Only after we were married she changed her mind. I finally decided I was never going to be a father and was prepared to accept that as my lot in life.’
It’s funny how your opinion about someone can change so easily. I was now pretty sure that Vanowen wasn’t the bad guy in all this and that Susan wasn’t as white as she’d been portraying, even if she had been having an affair.
‘Could Cheryl have taken the gun?’
Vanowen shrugged. ‘Sure. But I don’t see why.’
He couldn’t see it, but I could.
‘Did Cheryl ever show any feelings towards you?’
He looked surprised. ‘No. Well, not really. She joked a few times that if she’d seen me first Susan wouldn’t have had as look in. It was all just good fun.’
‘And how did you respond?’
‘If I remember correctly, the first time she said it, I said something like, if I’d met her first Susan wouldn’t have had a chance. It was all just friendly banter.’
‘How often was it said? Or something similar?
‘I don’t know,’ he said, impatiently. ‘Does it matter?’
‘I don’t know yet. I am just trying to establish your relationship with Cheryl.’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘What will happen after the trial?’
‘I’m not waiting. I’m starting divorce proceedings. Not on grounds of Susan murdering someone but for adultery. That sounds ludicrous when I say it, doesn’t it?’
‘What if Susan is proved to be innocent? Haven’t you been guilty in the past of adulterous behaviour?’
‘That’s different.’
‘How?’
He took a slug of whisky. ‘I don’t know. It just is.’
‘You know it’s not. She made a stupid mistake. One she regrets bitterly.’
‘How do you know?’
‘She told me. Could you take her back? Start again?’
There was silence for a few seconds, then he said, ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
‘Do you love your wife?’
Again the silence lasted for a little while. I heard more rustling at the door. ‘Yes. I think I do.’
‘You only think so?’
‘No. I know so. There’ll never be anyone else for me.’ He sighed. ‘I need to tell her. If she pleads guilty to manslaughter I’ll wait for her. I need to phone my lawyer. I’ll have him handle the case.’ He sat forward and slammed his glass down on the desk. ‘Thank you, Mr. O’Brian.’
‘What for?’
‘Helping me to get my thoughts straight. It was just,’ he shook his head and then said, ‘somehow Cheryl had me convinced that Susan was guilty. That I would be better off without her. That I could start again. I believed her. I see now she was suggesting it would be with her. God, what a thought. I’d never marry Cheryl. The idea makes me shudder. There’s something false about her. I can’t explain it. I do know Susan was trying to put more distance between them. Like making excuses not to meet up.’
‘Can you forgive Susan her infidelity?’
‘Yes. I can.’ There was no hesitation.
12
‘You think Cheryl had something to do with it, don’t you?’
‘Yes. And I can prove it.’
I didn’t get any further. The door had been half open and now it swung the rest of the way. Cheryl was standing there looking gorgeous. She swept in, not giving either of us a chance to respond to her sudden entrance.
‘Well, look at you two. Chatting away like old friends. You don’t mind if I help myself to a drink, do you?’
She crossed the room to the drinks cabinet. I knew immediately what she was doing and could have reacted. But I decided to let the drama play itself out. She pulled open the drawer beneath the drinks cabinet and grabbed the automatic. Vanowen suddenly realised what she was up to and sprang to his feet. She already had the gun pointing at him.
‘Sit down. And you,’ she waved the gun in my direction, ‘don’t try anything.’
‘What would I try with a gun pointed at me?’ I asked. I spoke nonchalantly while at the same time hoped I’d done a good enough job on the pin. ‘Did you enjoy listening to our conversation?’
Vanowen stared at me. ‘She was listening?’
‘Of course she was. She was outside the door within minutes of me arriving.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’ Vanowen asked.
‘I wanted to see what she would do. Now we know.’
‘You fool!’ He said, with understandable bitterness.
‘I heard everything you said,’ she waved the gun in Vanowen’s direction. ‘Including you not marrying me. You swine. After all I did. I got rid of that bitch and saved you a fortune. She’d go to prison, you’d divorce her, no alimony, no settlement and we could be together. We could get married. We could have had it all.’
‘You heard what I said. I was never going to marry you. I do
n’t know where you got the idea from.’
‘From all the hints you gave. The little comments. The peck on the cheeks. The way you squeezed my waist.’
‘You have to be joking. Those were just the actions of a friend. That was all.’
‘No! It wasn’t.’ Her voice was rising. Hysteria was only a heartbeat away.
‘You love me. I can tell. With Susan out of the way we could be together and have a great life. I’ll give you children. As many as you want. We could create a dynasty. Think of it.’
Vanowen was looking at her aghast. He seemed to come back to earth and said, ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last person on earth. If you shoot us you’ll do life or get the chair.’
‘And if I don’t kill you, you’ll tell the police I did it and they’ll come after me. There are no servants in the house and I can stage this as a robbery. In fact I may as well help myself to Susan’s jewellery. That will give me enough for a fresh start in Mexico’
‘So you shot Crane’ I said. ‘And set up your best friend in order to marry her husband.’
‘It was perfect. Nobody would ever have found out.’
That was enough for me. The recorder would have taped it all so I walked towards her with my hand outstretched. She didn’t hesitate. No warning. Nothing. She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. She pulled it again just as my stomach pressed against the muzzle. I took it from her hand. None too gently I might add.
‘I found the gun a couple of days ago. I bent the pin.’
She screeched and raised her hands like talons. I didn’t want to hurt her too much but on the other hand I didn’t want to get my face scratched to pieces either. So I socked her on the jaw. I hadn’t meant to do it too hard but she stepped towards me at the same time. She went out like a light.
‘Phone the cops,’ I said. ‘Ask to speak to Lt. Bainbridge. I’m going to use your toilet.’
‘It’s opposite the stairs.’
‘Thanks.’ I quickly retrieved the microphone and receiver/transmitter from the bedroom. I rejoined Vanowen.
‘I called the police. They’re on their way.’
‘Good.’
‘I need a black coffee. Excuse me.’
When he left I removed the microphone and receiver/transmitter. I quickly ran around to the back of the house and collected both recorders. After depositing all the gear in the trunk of my car, I returned to the house. The cops arrived a short while later.