CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Carl’s will was to be read at two that afternoon, and at a quarter of Detective Connery showed up with his partner, Detective Slye. They came in, said a pleasant hello or two, and then went into the library to speak with Carl’s lawyer. Everyone tried to act as if the arrival of the police didn’t bother them, but Elaine could tell that Connery and Slye were making everybody tense.
Elaine made herself busy by polishing the woodwork outside the library to catch some of the conversation. The dado in the hall was a gorgeous, embossed leather and its design was a delightful mesh of blackbirds perched in trees filled with pink blossoms. If those images could hear, they would’ve gotten an earful today.
Nicolette, Marlon, and Alex walked into the room together. When Marlon saw Connery, he started patting down his pockets. He obviously didn’t have whatever he was looking for, and by now he’d probably forgotten what it was that he was supposed to have found. As usual, both men let Nicolette do all the talking.
“We got your message about the badge holders,” she said. “I trust you found mine in the box.”
“My message…?” Connery said in that leading tone of his, trying to invite her to tell him more about it.
“Yes. Elaine told us that you were looking for missing badge holders that had been used at Friday’s meeting. That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said, glancing at Elaine, “it is.”
“And mine is accounted for. Correct?”
“That’s right.”
“As was mine,” Alex piped up. “I remember turning mine in on Friday.”
“You’re right,” Connery told him. “Your holder is present and accounted for as well.”
Connery looked over his shoulder to find Elaine straightening up a bric-a-brac table in the hall. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when he gazed at her. It was that sinking feeling she got whenever she’d just been nailed. The hand caught in the cookie jar, the How-did-that-decimal-point-get-moved-so-far-to-the-right-on-my-income-tax-return? sort of thing. Even Slye’s cynical eyes were examining her as he would someone who had criminal tendencies. Elaine felt like strangling Silas as he passed by all the commotion and entered the library as if he had no idea what was going on.
“Elaine Kostas gave you my message?” Connery said, giving Nicolette his undivided attention again.
“That’s right. Although I don’t understand why you had to have her relay it. You should’ve talked to us face-to-face, or at least have called us personally.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Connery paused to watch Marlon start patting down his suit jacket and pants pockets again.
“I forgot mine,” he finally surmised. “I’ll turn it in later.”
“Your badge holder?” Connery asked him.
“Of course. That’s what you’d asked for, isn’t it?”
Connery looked at Slye with an amused expression. “Yes, it is,” he said. “Try to get it to me sometime today, please.”
“Yes, yes, I will,” Marlon said, stuffing the pockets back inside of his trousers and then finding a seat in the library. Alex followed him, but Nicolette lagged behind.
“Have you been able to read the name on the card that Carl had ingested yet?” she asked him.
“Read it?”
“Yes, have you been able to make out the name on it?”
Pausing, Connery’s brain seemed to be working overtime to figure out what Elaine had been up to behind his back. “The name is crystal clear,” he said, staring at Nicolette to emphasize the point he’d been forced to make.
“Whose name is on it?”
“Don’t you know?” he asked her, and the verbal standoff made her double blink.
“Marlon’s badge holder was the only one not in the box. I assume that his would be the name on the card in Carl’s stomach.”
Connery leaned closer, staring at her as if trying to intimidate her. It even made Elaine uncomfortable to see him act as Detective Slye would. Gastric juices in Carl’s stomach had destroyed the card to the point of no longer being legible, but he insisted, “The name on the card wasn’t Marlon’s.”
“Whose was it, then?”
“We’ll talk about it after the will is read,” he said. “Stick around until then, won’t you?”
“Of course.” After the staring contest was over, she turned and found a seat. Slye started to sit next to her, but he paused as Connery left the library and stood beside Elaine. Slye came out as well to see what his partner was up to.
“Thanks for your detective work, Elaine,” Connery said, speaking low enough so that only she and Slye could hear him. She put down the feather duster. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d manage, sir,” she said, smiling. He didn’t return it.
“Did Silas put you up to this?”
“Yes.”
“Next time consult with me before you go jumping into police business.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone who had the nerve to kill a big man like John Linton and a powerful one like Carl Kastenmeier wouldn’t think twice about killing a prying housekeeper like you.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll hand it to Silas, though; that badge holder thing is making a lot of people nervous. The boy may be onto something.” Connery turned to Slye. “I want you to go down to the lab and hurry things along. I want answers and I want them today.”
“What about the will?” Slye said. “If I gave Falzone a call, I’d still be able to hear….”
“This case is for us to work and not be entertained by. We only need one pair of ears for this. I’ll listen to the will and let you know everything that’s in it.”
Slye seemed disappointed, but didn’t argue. “I guess I’ll be back when it’s all over,” he said, buttoning up his jacket again as he headed for the door.
“I’ll want to talk to you when this meeting is finished,” Connery told Elaine, “and I’m not happy.”
“I understand.”
“In the meantime, stop your amateur sleuthing. I expect you to mind what I say better than a seven-year-old.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned away from her and walked into the library, but not without glancing back at her one last time.
Elaine stepped out of the way as Lois passed, the wonderful combination of Bulgarian rose, Grasse jasmine, and honeysuckle trailing behind her. Such a masterful fragrance could only have been Arpège. She gave Elaine one last glower before going into the library with the others. Lois was wearing a plain, black dress out of respect for her dead husband, which was probably more respect than she’d shown him in years. Katerina was wearing black as well, and she acknowledged Elaine as she passed by. Having been named executrix of the will, Carl couldn’t have chosen a more responsible person to be at the helm of his affairs than she.
Tasia came up behind Elaine with a big smile on her face. “It’s only me,” she said. Tasia had on a bright yellow dress, which was in striking contrast to what Lois and Katerina had deemed appropriate, and the conservative dark browns, blues, and grays that the others were wearing.
“Well, this is it,” Elaine said. “I think you’re the last one to go in.”
“Oh, really? I guess it’s obvious that I’m in no hurry.”
“You look very nice,” Elaine told her. “You’re happy and it shows.”
“I’m also sober and detoxing as we speak,” she said, holding out her hands to show how steady they were becoming. “I’d like to stay that way.”
“You will.”
“Miss McAvoy,” someone said, and she turned to see who was speaking. It was Carl’s lawyer. “We’re ready to begin.”
“All right,” she said.
“Good luck in there,” Elaine told her. “Maybe you’ll come out a rich woman.”
“The money doesn’t matter,” she said, “because when I walk out of there, I’ll still be
free.” She smiled. “And nothing can top that.” Her touching Elaine’s hand that way was so reassuring, and the gesture was almost as if Tasia felt that Elaine was the one who needed comforting. Although more than a year younger than Elaine, Tasia had the ambiance of someone who’d been around for centuries.
With her shoulders back and her head held high, she crossed the threshold into the library. Grace and dignity emanated from her, and she carried herself like a real lady. She was a lady, and anyone with half a heart could see that. One arduous life coming full circle and blossoming into a show rose was a thing of beauty. Tasia McAvoy was proof of that.
After pausing to greet the lawyer with a handshake and a smile, she went in and found a seat. Before crossing her legs, she smoothed her dress down; it was good to see the hem resting below the knee. Long sleeves covered her wrists and part of her injured hand, and thus her only imperfections. As the lawyer closed the door to begin the proceedings, Tasia glanced at Elaine before lowering her eyes. All the while, the longcase clock in the family room, faithful to accuracy, brought in the two o’clock hour with one full verse of taps.
The Tattered Thread Page 47