“Care for some coffee?” he said, and, getting my nod, called to the waitress, who’d been keeping a cautious distance ever since our opening confrontation.
“Rosie! A couple of coffees — regular.” No checking on how I liked it. If I held all the cards in the poker game, well, by God, at least he could control the refreshment concession.
Rosie parked two mugs in front of us and retired to her neutral corner at the far end of the counter. Theodore picked up a spoon, added some sugar and stirred.
“We never should have tried it,” he mumbled, frowning into his cup. “I told her that. But she’d been fired anyway, so we —” He looked at me. “Won’t you tell me what she told you?” His tone had turned to one of pleading.
I gave him another grin and took a sip of the tepid coffee. He followed suit, then gave me a wide-eyed look. It was the identical look I use when I’m trying to buy the pot with nothing. I waited for the lie.
“Okay, Mr. Goldman, here it is, and this is the truth, so help me. See, I gave Sandy a little kiss — just a friendly peck, really. Well, you know how women are. She probably thought it meant something. But it didn’t. So when she — Where are you going? Wait!”
“I told you not to lie to me, man.” I had my attaché case and was moving. “I’ve had it with you. I’m going to the cops. See you in court, pal.”
Big as he was, Theodore could move when he had to. He was between me and the door before I took my third step. But this time it wasn’t a fight he wanted.
“Please, Mr. Goldman,” he said, his face anguished. “I’ll tell you the straight story. Come on back, please!”
Reluctantly returning to my seat, I plopped the attaché case back onto the counter and got his eye. “Just the truth this time.”
He nodded wearily and proceeded to give me the story of the masquerade ball. And this time I was pretty sure I was getting it straight.
*
Bob and Sandy had discovered they were attracted to each other that night. Bob had arrived with Laura a little after eight, prior to any of the guests. Sandy, of course, as office manager, was already there, getting things ready. Since Laura was hostess she had to greet everyone and Bob was soon at loose ends. He’d somehow wound up talking to Norville.
“It was nothing we planned to do,” he assured me. “Sandy was feeling down. She’d worked so hard to have things just right, and then Laura didn’t even thank her. Sandy sort of unloaded on me, just because I was handy, I suppose. I didn’t really know her all that well, but after a couple of drinks we decided to go into her office and talk.
“One thing led to another, and next thing we knew, we were just — well, you know, kissing and whatnot. We’d only been in there fifteen minutes or so, when in came Laura.”
“What time was it?” I asked.
“Just after ten.”
The sight of her office manager/friend in her boyfriend’s arms had not been appreciated. Laura had fired Sandy on the spot.
“That never came out, did it?” I said, surprised.
“No, it didn’t. But look. We both knew Laura didn’t mean it. Sandy decided she’d just wait it out till Monday and go apologize to Laura. We both figured Laura’d change her mind. Of course, by Monday poor Laura was dead. So Sandy went to work as usual and soon discovered that Laura apparently hadn’t told anyone else. End of episode.” Theodore took a sip of coffee, watching me out of the corner of his eye to see if I was buying it.
I was beginning to suffer from information overload. Laura had caught Sandy and Bob kissing — and God knew what else — that night. I recalled McClendon saying that Laura had gone into Sandy’s office right after the mysterious phone call. That must have been when the blow-up happened. About ten o’clock, just before Penniston left the party, never to be seen alive again.
“Did Laura tell either of you about the phone call she’d received?” I asked. Junior looked away and thought a moment. Then further postponed answering by picking up his coffee and taking a long sip. Finally he tried to meet my eyes.
“Uh, yeah, I think she did.” He was having trouble keeping a steady gaze and looked away as he continued. “Said something about a phone call. Said she had to go somewhere. I don’t recall exactly. It was a tense time, you know. Laura was mad as hell, Sandy was upset, I was embarrassed
His voice trailed off. He was lying again. About what, I didn’t know. I had an idle thought. If this guy was as rich as everyone said, it’d be nice to get him into a game of liar’s poker.
Trouble was, at the moment I had no good way of breaking his story down. I tried a different tack.
“So Laura fired Sandy. And then Sandy went to work the next Monday as though nothing had ever happened. Got it. Now. What did Laura say to yow?”
Mr. Handsome reddened noticeably for the first time. He looked away, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He took a deep breath and turned to face me.
“She fired me, too,” he muttered, with an attempt at a smile. “She said it was all over between us.”
Junior shook his head and tried to up the wattage of the smile. “Of course, she’d never have gone through with it. We were too — well, she just wouldn’t have.”
I was thinking of something while he talked. Putting myself in his shoes (having been there once or twice), I asked a question I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to.
“Did you take Sandy home?” Theodore blushed and looked away. I waited.
“Uh, yeah, I did. Or, rather, uh, I took both of us. To her place.” He looked at me, his blush growing. I finally finished his thought for him.
“And stayed there?” He nodded, and the blush began to subside.
“Yes. I stayed there all night. She fixed me breakfast next morning, late. We were sitting there, just talking, the radio on, when the announcement came about Laura being killed.” He picked up his coffee, hand trembling. “Then I went home. We agreed we’d never tell anyone. But you might as well know the truth.”
I nodded. “Did you tell the police?”
“They never asked!” Theodore looked irritated at the negligence of the police, which I found curious. Of course, since they were looking for a psycho, they wouldn’t have been interested in alibis. Still…
“So they let you off the hook. Well, what did they want to know? Did you tell them about that phone call Laura got that evening?”
“I would’ve if they’d have asked,” Bob said. “They never asked. I was questioned by someone named, uh…”
“Blake,” I supplied.
“Right! A jerk if I ever saw one.”
I looked at Junior with new respect. He continued.
“Blake wasn’t very interested in what I had to say. He really only wanted to know if I had any idea where Laura went. I said I didn’t. If he’d asked a couple more questions, I’d have been glad to tell him about that phone call. But he didn’t ask. Sounded like he was in a hurry.”
Theodore looked down and thought for a minute. Suddenly he was angry. “Satisfied now?” he said, his voice rising. “Got everything you want?”
I doubted it. Not that I didn’t have plenty. Too much, in fact. I’d collected more information in one day — from Donovan, McClendon, Norville and Theodore — than any one brain could process in a week. Well, any brain but the Bishop’s.
But of everything I’d learned, that phone call to Laura looked like the cream of the crop. And it looked like Bob Theodore knew more about it than he was saying. But I had no leverage — at least none that I could think of — to get it out of him.
Suddenly I got a new idea. Or rather, a variation of an old one. After all, why tamper with success?
“Well,” I shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ve certainly given me lots to think about. But I’ll have to collate it with all the other information I’ve picked up before I’ll know whether I’ll need any more.”
We got to our feet. I snapped my fingers as though I’d just remembered something.
“Hang on just anothe
r sec, will you, Bob? Uh, where’s the nearest phone?” He tilted his head wordlessly to indicate the door to the lobby. “Just hang in there, will you? I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t want him to get away while I made this call. He wasn’t happy about it, but I didn’t give him the chance to argue. Finally he nodded abruptly and collapsed back onto his stool.
My luck held: Sandy Norville answered on the second ring. I was very upbeat.
“Sandy! Dave here. I’ve got a couple more questions. I can’t come back down your way, but could you meet me up on Thirty-seventh Street in half an hour?”
“I’m afraid not, Dave.” The tone was cool. “I’ve really answered all the questions I’m going to. For today, anyway.”
“Oh? You’ve answered all the questions you’re going to? Then I’m afraid I have a problem,” I said with a sigh. “Bob Theodore and I have been talking…” I waited for the gasp. She didn’t disappoint me. “…and Bob has just been telling me a number of things about that night at the party, and about what Laura said to the two of you when she caught you playing footsie. Sounds like you haven’t been totally honest with me, Sandy.”
She started to answer, but I wasn’t done.
“So here’s my problem: do I take what I’ve got to the police, or do you and I sit down and discuss it? Of course, if you don’t have time —”
“I’ve been trying to reach Bob! Where are you? I want to —”
I cut her off. Time to get a little tougher. “Look, Sandy. We’re through with the fun and games. It’s time to talk turkey. You dressed? Good. Get a cab and go to Eight-ninety West Thirty-seventh Street. It’ll say Catholic Archdiocese, Bishop’s Residence on the door, but don’t let that stop you. Just tell them who you are and they’ll let you in.
“Now, don’t fool around. I’ll be there inside of twenty minutes, and if you’re not there when I arrive I’m just going straight to the police. I’ve had it with you.”
I hung up without waiting for her response. I’d bounced from Sandy to Bob, and now — I hoped — back to Sandy. I was beginning to feel like a pinball. Still, each time I seemed to be getting a little more of the truth.
Back in the coffee shop, I didn’t bother to sit down. “No more questions, Bob,” I said abruptly, grabbing my attaché case. “Got to run. It’s been real.” Theodore got up and offered his hand, perhaps to show there were no hard feelings. I grabbed and shook it, amused at the relieved but puzzled look on his handsome face.
I was even more amused by the certainty that the first thing he’d do when he got back upstairs was call Sandy. I’d probably caused more phone calls today, with fewer results, than anyone since Hitler tried to find out if Paris was burning.
“Then I’ll be hearing from you?” he called after me in a worried voice.
I gave him a brisk thumbs-up with my free hand and kept right on walking.
23
Sandy was sitting, beautiful and lonely, in the tiny foyer of the mansion when I let myself in. Before grabbing a cab, I’d called Ernie with explicit instructions. Sandy was to be admitted but not given access to any phone and discouraged from leaving for any reason. I wasn’t ready to lift the quarantine yet.
She was beginning to look a little worn around the edges. But the tailored suit still flattered her. The figure she’d called dumpy, then plump, struck me as well-rounded or even voluptuous. Too bad she was such a liar.
Her greeting, as I invited her into my office, was strained. For which I couldn’t really blame her.
“Let’s get right down to it, Sandy,” I said as she got herself arranged. Her perfume began to fill the room. “I need to know about a certain phone call.”
“What phone call?” She examined her fingernails.
“The one Laura got at the party. You remember. The one that made her come look for you. The one that got you fired by Laura two weeks before you got fired by Betty.”
Sandy turned red. She opened her mouth, then closed it and eyed me.
“Bob’s an idiot!” she said coldly. “If he —” She stopped. “What did he tell you?”
“Never mind what Bob told me. Look, Sandy. You and Bob are in a potload of trouble. I can’t even begin to tell you how tired I’m getting of him saying, ‘What did Sandy tell you?’ and you, ‘What did Bob tell you?’ Why don’t you just tell the simple truth?”
“Truth! You’re a fine one to talk about truth! You didn’t even tell me you knew Bob! You just let me talk on and on.” She glanced at the door. She was about an inch away from walking out.
“Look,” I sighed. “Sandy. I told you, I’m representing Jerry Fanning. I also told you, he’s innocent. That’s not a guess, that’s a fact. He couldn’t have done it. To Laura or any of those women.” The big dark eyes were attentive.
“So I need to find out who did. All I’m asking you to do is tell the truth. Now, I’m not going to tell you I can protect you from police harassment, but I can damn sure help — if you get me on your side. What you need to understand is there’s just one way you can do that: answer my questions.
“No, make that two things: answer my questions, and answer them truthfully. Do that and I swear to you, I’ll do my damnedest to keep you and Bob out of trouble.”
She studied me, then looked at her watch. I did the same: 5:06. Guessing her thoughts, I said, “The sun’s over the yardarm, as they say. Care for a drink?”
Turned out she did, and I decided to join her. Ernie was breaking some eggs and separating the yolks from the whites as I came in the kitchen and pulled a jug of Chablis and a Heineken’s out of the fridge. I waited for the usual interrogation.
“So, David, a beautiful girl.”
I nodded and grabbed a wine glass and a beer mug.
“So is she Jewish?”
I had to suppress a smile before giving her my considered response: “None of your business, Ernie. “
“Umm-hmm,” she simpered in that smug, self-satisfied, knowing way of hers. Returning to my office with the drinks, I saw that Sandy’s chair was a little closer to the desk. I instinctively glanced around the room to see if anything was out of place. Nothing that I could see. My trust in the lovely brunette obviously went about as far as I could see her.
Sandy took a sip and met my gaze squarely for the first time. “So what do you want to know, Dave?”
“Like I said. Anything and everything you can tell me about what happened with Laura the night she died, especially that phone call she got.”
“Okay.” She nodded and took a nervous sip. “It was Bob’s idea not to tell anyone about it.” She was having difficulty meeting my eyes again. “I almost feel I’m betraying a confidence, you know? He was so embarrassed. Does the name Steven Sarnoff ring a bell, Dave?”
I frowned at her. “Sarnoff? No. Should it?”
Sandy gave a slight shrug. “That’s who called that night.”
That didn’t remove my frown. “Who’s Sarnoff?”
“I don’t know. Well, I do, actually, but I’ve never met him. He was a friend of Laura’s. He runs the outfit we get most of our models from.” She smiled bitterly. “I should say, they get most of their models from. Models for Hire, it’s called. He’s the one who called Laura.”
“What makes you think that? Did Laura say so?”
“Something like that. And that’s why Bob didn’t want to talk about it, you know? Because Sarnoff’s been cheating Laura for at least a year. And Bob missed it in the audit.”
I stared at her as I pulled out my notebook. “Okay. Tell me everything you know about him. And about that phone call he made to Laura the night she died.” I was beginning to get somewhere.
She took a sip of wine. “I can’t really tell you much about Sarnoff. And as far as that call goes — well, Laura said…” She frowned into her glass, then up at me.
“I’d better just tell you everything that happened. It’s complicated. See, when Laura walked in on us she was furious! I’d never seen her so mad. She was out of control
. For no reason. I mean, Bob and I hadn’t been all that — well, passionate. We were just — well, you know.” Sandy tried a smile, took one look at my face and got serious again.
“Well, Laura went after me first. You can imagine what she said. I’d stabbed her in the back after she’d tried to help me, and so forth and so on. I just sat there, stunned, you know? Bob was up, walking around. But any time he’d get close to her, she’d yell at him, ‘Stay away from me! Don’t you touch me!’ Things like that.
“And she climbed all over me, told me I was fired. Even tried to get me to clear my things out of the office right then and there. I just sat there, not knowing what to do. I didn’t say a word. I felt so awful! You know?” She looked at me and I nodded.
“Well, I was just about to start clearing my things out when Laura forgot about me and started back in on Bob. By this time she was starting to get really vicious. And that’s when she first mentioned the phone call. Said something like, ‘I’ve got to go meet my dear friend, Steven Sarnoff.’ Sounded really contemptuous, you know?
“Then Laura really started screaming at him. At Bob, I mean. ‘If you’d done what I paid you to do, instead of the half-assed job you did, I wouldn’t even be having this problem with Sarnoff. But it doesn’t really matter, because we’re through, you and me!’”
Sandy took another sip. “Then she got even nastier. Her voice got real low and mean. Said, ‘I’m going to tell your dad about this, you scumbag! I tried to help you, tried to keep your stupidity our little secret! Well, it’s not a secret any longer!” Bob was just white as a sheet. He tried to talk to her, but she just slammed out.” Sandy looked down. “And that was the last time either of us ever saw her alive.”
Now I was getting somewhere. So someone named Steven Sarnoff…
“Just what did she say about the call, Sandy?”
She squinted into space, took another small sip of the Chablis and turned the squint on me.
“Uh, let me see.” She put her glass down. “Laura said…she was going to see him.” Sandy’s eyes widened. “Yes! She said — she was talking to Bob — she said, ‘Your buddy Sarnoff just called, and I’m going to have it out with him.’ Those exact words. That was when she started in on Bob about what a lousy accountant he was and all.”
The Fundamentals of Murder (Davey Goldman Series Book 2) Page 15