“No. But we do have a problem. The whole situation is a problem. I’ve been thinking about it. I told you Castellano said that Lisa Troy and the butler don’t even exist—well, they do exist. But obviously they’re not who they said they were.”
“Yep. Got that.”
“It’s all so theatrical. I felt like I was in one of the Ngaio Marsh books that Vera bought.”
“Theatrical?”
“Yes, everything about it felt staged. But who would stage it?”
Sammy leaned forward and his black eyes bored into mine.
I returned his gaze. “So there’s only one thing it could be.”
He nodded. “A setup.”
CHAPTER SIX
I SUPPOSE IF you were a defense attorney, you’d prefer something a bit more concrete to keep your client out of jail. Yelling, “Setup!” only gets you so far.
Sammy sat thinking. At least he wasn’t one to scowl.
I said, “Thank you for coming. I felt I was being ground down and fast. How do people survive hours and hours of questioning without accidentally implicating themselves?”
“Usually they don’t. That’s why you don’t allow yourself to be interviewed without representation. They trip you up. They get you rattled. The next stage they’d be saying that Vera Van Alst or Kevin didn’t back up your story and pointed the finger at you.”
“I wouldn’t fall for that,” I said.
“Says the kid who didn’t think the cops would lie to her. These people have training. You’d be surprised what they can get people to admit to, whether they’re guilty or not.”
“I don’t see how she can have any proof. It was impossible for any of us to kill him. I kept telling her that, but she didn’t believe me.”
“Remember this: She’s not paid to believe you.”
“Speaking of paying, who called you? I am grateful that you’re here, but was it Uncle Kev?” Of course, that was ridiculous because Kev never had enough money for a bus ticket.
He shook his head. “Not Kevin. And as I’m representing you, he’ll need his own counsel.”
“I guess they’ll have to find him first.”
Sammy said, “That’s bad.”
“How bad?”
“It’s a murder investigation and he’s disappeared. So pretty bad.”
“Well, technically, he’s out on an errand. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“You sure about that?”
“Of course I am. Uncle Kev always does errands when the police come knocking. It’s like an instinct for him. But he didn’t hurt Chadwick. You have my word on that.”
“I’ve learned one immutable fact in my career: Anything’s possible where people are involved.”
“Unless the laws of physics were temporarily suspended allowing time travel, Uncle Kev couldn’t have killed Chadwick. But the two people who were in the house could have.”
“You mean Lisa Troy, who doesn’t exist, and the butler that no one has heard of?”
“Exactly.”
He nodded. “I hear you, but that won’t get you out of this. Never mind. With luck, they left some kind of evidence. Fingerprints. Whatever. Let’s give Castellano something to think about.” He straightened his collar and tie, brushed a bit of dust off his too-tight suit jacket and tugged at it.
I figured I wasn’t the only person who’d thought that Castellano was pretty spectacular. I said, “Don’t let yourself be seduced by that pretty package.”
“I’m your lawyer. I don’t get seduced, but she is . . .”
I waited.
“. . . quite a woman.”
“No kidding. And you still haven’t told me who called you. Was it Uncle Mick and Uncle Lucky? How would they have found out?”
He shook his head. “Not your uncles.”
“But who? Vera?”
Vera could probably pay his fee, although I would expect a bit more of the Francis I silverware to disappear.
“Not Vera.”
Not uncles. Not Kev. Not Vera.
“Who? I think I have the right to know.”
“A friend of yours.”
“Really?”
“He asked me not to tell you.”
My heart clenched. I hoped it wasn’t Sal Tascone, the best-dressed and most dangerous man in town. I’d done my best to stay away from him, and I didn’t want to fall into his clutches now. Sal had once done me a favor, but with two favors, I’d be really in his debt, and I wasn’t prepared for that. I was going straight, not going straight to the mob.
“If it’s Sal, I’m going to have to let you go.”
Sammy gave a short bark of laughter. “No, not Tascone. I don’t work for him. You think a lot of yourself, don’t you, kid? And you’re wise to steer clear.”
“I don’t get it, then. No one knows. Only Vera, Kev, you and me, the signora, I suppose, the cops and . . .”
He reacted to that. The corner of his left eye twitched, and he tugged at the collar of his wrinkled jacket.
I stopped. Stared. Tyler Dekker knew, and his face had reflected his misery at accompanying his colleagues to question me about a murder. He’d met Sammy Vincovic, and he was smart enough to figure out how to reach him in Syracuse.
Was Smiley my savior?
Vincovic wasn’t saying. “There was only one condition, and that was that no one could know who called me.”
“Seriously? You don’t think I’m at a disadvantage not knowing who hired you to represent me?”
He smiled.
I tossed my verbal grenade. “Is this the first time you’ve been retained by a cop?”
Vincovic might have been a wily street fighter, but the look on his face told me I’d scored a direct hit.
“So that’s why Tyler left me alone. He was calling you. I thought he’d abandoned me.” Abandoned me again, I thought. It hadn’t been that long ago when he’d left me on my own in one of the most dangerous situations of my life.
“I can’t tell you who called me.”
“Fair enough. But now I know, and I’m grateful that he got you here. I’m not sure how I can afford your fees, but I’ll find a way.” I figured putting off grad school for another couple of years was probably the way, and I might still need some help from my uncles. They’d do what they could. They think that legal representation is like food and water, one of life’s necessities.
“Ready to face the big, bad detective again?” he said.
I stood up. He gestured for me to sit down. “Look relaxed. Remember that you’ve got friends. And ‘no comment’ is your only comment.”
Castellano strode through the door almost the second that Sammy Vincovic opened it. He smiled at her. It was the smile of man who is very, very impressed by a woman. “Welcome back, Detective.”
She pointedly ignored him and took the best seat in the house again. I must say, the desk suited her as much as her outfit did. Bad Cat reached out and took a swipe at the boots as she passed. I didn’t blame him. Good Bad Cat.
Stoddard slouched into the room and leaned against the wall, with his hands in his pockets. I half expected him to whistle a carefree tune.
Good Cat—not such an able judge of character—jumped into Castellano’s lap. The resulting shriek was very amusing for Stoddard. He had to turn his face away to get that grin under control. Castellano might have shot him otherwise. Sammy, on the other hand, rushed forward to help and, one assumes, brush the cat hair from her skirt.
“Back off,” she said.
Sammy raised his hands in mock surrender. Good Cat leapt away and settled on the fainting couch, his back now turned to Castellano.
Bad Cat took the opportunity to give it another try. He crept behind the desk. At the end of Castellano’s high leather boots he found some quite expensive hose that went perfectly with the
caramel suit. It was only a matter of time until Bad Cat hooked his claws into those. If Castellano was in a bad mood now, I could only imagine what she’d be like if her fifty-dollar stockings were ruined.
I said, out of complete self-interest, “The cat that jumped on your lap is the friendly cat. The other that’s aiming for your leg now, and I mean right now, might scratch or bite. Better let me take care of him.”
“You stay where you are. I’m not worried about any cat. That jumpy one took me by surprise, is all.”
I figured she was in for more surprises, but hey.
Sammy said, “I’ll keep an eye on the cats.”
I reminded myself he was on my side, even if he did seem to be more impressed with Castellano by the second.
From the look on her face, Castellano did not think that Sammy Vincovic was any kind of heartthrob. More like some kind of bug she’d like to stamp on.
Sammy’s smile widened as he watched her. It had definitely reached his wily black eyes.
“Stop grinning,” she said.
It would have taken more than that.
“Detective Castellano, you’re grasping at straws here,” he said—much like I might have said, “Lemon blueberry cheesecake, two slices, please.”
“I don’t think so, Counselor.” Her eyes hardened and she shot me a look.
I sat up straighter.
“Think again. My client has answered all your questions and given you a statement. She was in Summerlea. Her fingerprints will be there, as will dozens of others. I am assuming you are interrogating everyone. She and her employer agree on the circumstances. Chadwick Kauffman was alive when they left. There was no reason to kill him.”
“She was seen leaving—”
“So was the guy with the delivery van. I assume you’ve got him in a room somewhere and you’ve taken his fingerprints and his statement and are still giving him a hard time.”
“If there was a driver. None of you seem to have noticed the company name.”
“There was a driver! We saw him.”
“We have only your word for that.”
“What about the people walking on the road?”
She lifted her shoulders in a bored shrug.
Sammy’d had enough. Or he was worried I’d go and blow it. He said, “Either charge my client or let her go about her day. We’re through here.”
I gave an involuntary gasp. Charge me? I didn’t mind Sammy playing chicken with Detective Castellano, but really, charge me?
Castellano said, “We’ve applied for a warrant to search the house.”
Sammy shrugged his meaty shoulders. “You want a warrant to search Vera Van Alst’s home? Good luck with that.”
Ooh. Vera might not have been the sunniest of characters, but, hated or not, she was still influential in Harrison Falls and she sat on the hospital board with at least one judge. Sammy was right. They’d have to make it good.
Castellano rose and stalked out the door. Stoddard slouched after her, looking very Tom Sawyerish. The door closed softly behind them.
Bad Cat took his disappointment out on the drapes.
I felt a rush of relief.
Sammy said, “She won’t let this go. She’s not the type. We have to get our story airtight and do a bit of research while we’re at it.”
Just what I’d been thinking. But I was worried. What if I was wrong about Vera’s influence? “I think they do have enough to get a search warrant. We were at the scene of a murder. Our story isn’t backed up. Even though Vera’s powerful in the community, a lot of people hate the Van Alsts. That probably includes some judges.”
“Sure, they’ll get it. No problem. You are innocent, remember? So we have to take certain stands.”
“Right. General principles.”
“And, speaking of, here’s my card. Memorize my cell number. Call the minute something happens. If you get new information, if the police show up again after this. Doesn’t matter what or when.”
“It will take you more than a couple of minutes to get back from Syracuse,” I said, staring at the card dubiously.
“There’s no going back to Syracuse until we’ve got this under control.”
I exhaled with relief. Sammy was a lawyer you could lean on.
Castellano stuck her head back in the door. “Don’t leave town.”
Sammy showed her his best dental work.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I DIDN’T NEED Sammy to tell me that they couldn’t stop me from leaving town. The police like to say that, to get you rattled. Of course, I had no intention of leaving town. Where would I go? I wanted to relax and live my life without the threat of a murder or accessory to murder charge hanging over my head.
I went over everything that happened one more time with Sammy. I answered questions. I tried to make sense of the events at Summerlea. When Sammy headed out at last, I walked with him to the front door. We found Vera, glowering. Castellano and Stoddard had just left, and she was still angry about their visit. There was no sign of Tyler Dekker. I wanted to thank him for sending Sammy and for being there for me. Face it, I needed a hug.
The signora fluttered in and did her little anxiety dance, crossing herself a few times. She was making a second attempt at lunch because of interruptions.
“For heaven’s sake, Fiammetta,” Vera grumped. “We can’t be eating all the time.”
“Yes. You eat, Vera! La polizia! No, no, no! Must eat.” Apparently the cure for anxiety caused by police was food. I got that.
I said, “I wouldn’t mind a bite. Our lunch was interrupted by the police and being questioned by cops always makes me hungry. Sammy, will you join us?”
He shook his head and tapped his watch. Of course, he didn’t really know what he was missing. And it crossed my mind he might want to trim his waist before any future encounters with Castellano.
Vera grunted and I waved good-bye to Sammy.
I figured lunch would help me regain my emotional balance and give my serotonin a boost, after being considered a murder suspect had pretty much depleted it. I’d be in better shape if I figured out what I could do to help myself.
I tried calling Tyler Dekker, but his phone went right to voice mail. Of course, he was on duty and, in fact, may have been meeting up with Castellano and Stoddard. He wouldn’t be free to talk. I decided against leaving a message, as I wanted to thank him face-to-face. And, you know, lip-to-lip.
The signora must have worked out her own anxiety by preparing her very special huge meatballs with the light tomato sauce made from her own harvest in the garden last fall. These are like a secret weapon in the war against feeling bad about anything. The signora serves them all alone on a plate with an artistic swirl of sauce around them.
Of course, there was soup first and crusty bread and a lovely green salad, but the meatballs were worth the wait.
Kev’s place was set. I asked the signora to take it away, as Kev wouldn’t be joining us. I didn’t want Detectives Castellano and Stoddard to swan back in and accuse us of harboring him. Of course, we almost certainly would harbor him. We didn’t have to, as he’d vanished.
I figured they hadn’t bugged the place, so I felt free to talk. Vera was focusing on her Times crossword and didn’t seem to be bothered in the least.
“Vera, what struck you about our luncheon at Summerlea?”
She glanced up, surprised. “Don’t know what you mean, Miss Bingham.”
“I mean, what impression did you have?”
She shrugged. “Standard old money.”
“And the place?”
“Typical summer mausoleum.”
I snorted. Van Alst House could answer to that description on a slightly lower level. And of course, it wasn’t merely seasonal. “What about the people?”
“Didn’t pay any attention to them.”
&nb
sp; “Okay, so did it surprise you to learn that Miss Troy and Thomas the butler were not who they said they were?”
“Weren’t they?”
“Not according to Detective Castellano. She strikes me as the type who gets her facts straight.”
Vera fixed me with a long gaze. “I think you’re right there, Miss Bingham. She strikes me that way too.” She turned her attention back to her puzzle. I no longer existed. The signora took advantage of this to slap a massive slice from one of her plum cakes in front of me.
“Eat!” Apparently she figured I was eating for two, one of whom was Uncle Kev. But being grilled can definitely make a girl hungry.
“So, Vera,” I said, once I’d done justice to the plum cake. “They weren’t who they said they were. Who do you think they were?”
“I have no idea, Miss Bingham. Is that important?”
I kept my cool. “It is if you don’t want one of us to get arrested.”
“Why would one of us get . . . ? Do you mean you, Miss Bingham?”
“Not necessarily. Did they not ask you if you went upstairs?”
“They did. I said no. That was absurd.”
“Did they ask you if Kev or I went upstairs?”
“I said I wasn’t paying attention to you.”
“Oh. But we didn’t go upstairs. You must have known that. The staircase was visible from the parlor.”
“Was it?”
“Yes. You didn’t notice us at all?”
“My mind was on getting the Marsh books.”
I sighed. “Yes, I can see how it would be.”
“Don’t be flippant.”
“I am not being flippant, Vera. This is very serious. The police say that Chadwick was murdered. Didn’t Detective Castellano tell you that?”
She shrugged. “She may have mentioned it. But that’s nothing to do with us, surely.”
“They believe that one of us went to the second floor—possibly using the elevator we didn’t know about—bashed Chadwick Kauffman over the head with a statue and then pushed him down the stairs.”
The Marsh Madness Page 9