The Tattered Thread
Page 9
CHAPTER EIGHT
Connery put down his pen and rocked back in his seat. Lois would’ve been proud of the fact that the old Louis XVI chair with the fawn-colored silk upholstery and giltwood frame didn’t creak once. But, then again, she would’ve been aghast to see her magnificent chattel propped up on two legs.
Another officer excused herself as she came into the room. She whispered to Connery and then laid a piece of paper in front of him. Not wanting to act overly curious about it, Elaine stared at the tall candelabrum on a small table behind the desk. All nine candles were burning, and she couldn’t help but wonder who’d taken the time to light them. Perhaps these officers wanted to take full advantage of their beautiful surroundings while they had the chance. Investigating rich people certainly didn’t happen every day.
Connery thanked the officer as she left, taking the time to read the paper she’d handed him. Afterward, he handed it to Slye.
“Of all the people who either worked for or knew Carl, did any of them have a background in chemistry besides Chloe Brice?” he asked.
Putting her hands together as if she were about to pray, Elaine rested both thumbs against her bottom lip for a moment. “Well, let me see,” she said, placing her hands back on her lap. Every object around her looked heavily contoured and odd. It was nearing two-thirty in the morning, and boy, did it feel like it. When the interview began, she’d been fine. But now, all of a sudden, lethargy crept into her bones like a thick fog hanging over Detroit.
“Mr. Kastenmeier’s brother Vic has a doctorate in organic chemistry. Mrs. Kastenmeier has bachelor’s degrees in biology and the performing arts. I believe biology requires at least two years of chemistry.” Hesitating, she explained, “I know a lot about chemistry prerequisites and stuff like that because of my conversations with Chloe.”
“I see. If Lois Kastenmeier has a bachelor’s degree in biology, then she probably had a year of both inorganic and organic chemistry.”
“Probably.”
“Anyone else?”
“Everyone at the upper management level of Mr. Kastenmeier’s company has at least a bachelor’s degree.”
Connery checked his notes. “And that includes Alex Gordetsky, Nicolette Howard, and Marlon McGhee, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Anyone else?”
“Well, Silas knows an awful lot of chemistry.”
“Silas? You mean Carl’s seven-year-old son?”
“Yes. He’s a child prodigy. A genius. They aren’t able to tell how smart he is because there aren’t any tests sophisticated enough to measure his intelligence. Only point four percent of the population has an IQ of one-forty or better, and Silas’ seems to be above one-seventy.”
“Wow. How was Silas’s relationship with his father?”
“Tolerant,” she said. “They were at odds because Mr. Kastenmeier wanted him to get a formal education, but Silas insists on teaching himself.” Elaine laughed on remembering one particular case in point. “Silas says that all he needs is a library card.”
Connery smiled, nodding his head and checking what he’d written. “So, that’s Vic and Lois Kastenmeier, Chloe Brice, and Silas who know chemistry. I’ll have to see what kinds of degrees Alex Gordetsky, Nicolette Howard and Marlon McGhee have, but I’d bet my life they’re all in business. It’s hard to tell whether Carl had a background in chemistry or not.” Connery looked at the degrees hanging on the wall. “He had a degree in business administration.”
“Yes, he earned it before starting Kast Varnish Enterprises.” Elaine looked at Connery playfully for a moment. “But I doubt if he blew himself up, at least not on purpose.”
“I agree with you. What about Tasia? She has a culinary arts degree, right?”
“Yes,” Elaine said, “but I doubt if she needed to take much chemistry to get it.”
“I suppose. Even so, that’s quite an accomplishment for someone as young as she is. How did she manage it?”
“Private tutors and being especially gifted. Somewhat of a prodigy herself, cooking came naturally and with her discerning palate, she was a quick study. She graduated from high school at sixteen and took three years to get her degree.”
“Who footed the bills for the tutors?”
“Mr. Kastenmeier. I guess he was in a hurry for her to grow up. Anyway, while she attended the local university, she got her first taste of independence, and she liked it.”
“You have to ask yourself why an intelligent girl like her stuck around here for so long, especially if she were being abused.”
“Bad things can happen to anyone, Detective, even to intelligent people.”
“How was Tasia’s relationship with Carl? Did she like him at least?”
“Who knows, really? Only she can answer that. But I always had the impression that she put up with him, and his happiness did seem important to her.”
“Why?”
“She’s the kind of person who likes to see everyone happy. Mr. Kastenmeier just wasn’t an exception.”
“Lois might’ve been an exception,” Detective Slye said, tossing an embroidered throw pillow up into the air and then catching it again. “After all, sleeping with another woman’s husband doesn’t curry favor with the jilted spouse, does it?” As usual, Slye only seemed satisfied being negative. He and Carl would’ve gotten along fabulously.
“I guess not,” Elaine told him, and then looked at Connery again. She preferred dealing with him because he seemed less irritated about working at three in the morning.
“Carl’s relationship with Tasia sounds a lot like the one he’d had with his son,” Connery said, and his assessment stunned Elaine; she couldn’t see any similarities there at all. “There was quite an age difference between Carl and Tasia, almost thirty years. Did he have a fatherly connection with her?”
“Fatherly? If the way he treated Tasia had been his idea of acting like a father, then he had an extremely warped view of paternity, Detective.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. But I’ve seen a lot of things, and I’m saying if that had been the case, it wouldn’t surprise me.” He hesitated. “Did they often disagree?”
“Yes, but whenever they did disagree, she’d always be the one to give in. She’s passive, especially around Mr. Kastenmeier.”
“Was he holding something over her head?”
“You’d have to ask her that, sir. I wouldn’t know.”
“Think back to when you first met Tasia,” Connery insisted. “I want you to tell me specifics about her.”