A Portrait of Emily

by J. P. Bowie

  “Yeah…”

  “How can you know that?”

  “I don’t know that, that’s the problem. It’s just a feeling. I can’t explain these things, Joe. They just happen.”

  Joe nodded, but retained his skeptical air.

  “Who called in the incident?” Jeff asked.

  “An anonymous tip from some guy. From this number.”

  “There’s someone you should probably check out. A Bob Thomson.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The owner of this building; Joey’s landlord.”

  “Why him? Although we do have to inform him of what’s gone down here, of course.”

  “He was also Joey’s sponsor—and ex-boyfriend.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Joe looked more interested. “You think there was a spot of jealousy here?”

  “I know there was. The day I met Bob Thomson, he was pretty open about how he felt about Joey seeing Anthony. Also, when I was talking to Joey last night, someone came into the studio. Just before he hung up he said, ‘Oh, it’s you’—so he obviously knew who had just walked in.”

  “Well, I better pay Mr. Thomson a visit,” Joe said. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Even if he wasn’t here last night, I would hazard a guess he’ll probably know who else Joey might have been seeing recently.”

  “Right.” Joe walked over to the door and held it open. “Okay guys. Time to go. I’ll keep you informed, Jeff. Thanks again for your time.”

  “No problem. I’d like to see whoever did this caught as soon as possible.”

  The three men shook hands then Jeff and Peter went downstairs to where they had left the car.

  “How’re you feeling?” Peter asked anxiously.

  “I’m good. Thanks for being here Peter. It really helped.”

  As they got in the car, Peter said. “It definitely wasn’t Anthony, Jeff.”

  “I love how you can be so sure of things,” Jeff smiled at him. “But you’re probably right—why would Anthony want to kill Joey? Bob Thomson, on the other hand, hated the fact Joey was so enthralled with Anthony. They could have got into a fight over it. Anyway, when forensics comes up with more evidence, like scrapings from under Joey’s fingernails, they’ll have a clearer picture.”

  Peter started the car and pulled away from the curb. He drove out onto Santa Monica and headed for the freeway. Jeff’s cell phone rang as they approached the on ramp. It was Johnny.

  “Jeff, where are you?” He sounded anxious.

  “We’re just getting on the 405 on our way back. What’s up?”

  “The police got a warrant and searched Emily’s room. They found a box full of her journals going way back to when she was a kid. They’re pretty graphic about all the abuse, but here’s the thing the police are upset about. Several times she describes her suicide attempts.”

  “Why are they upset about that?”

  “Because, in one journal she says “Why should I die and he go on living? He’s the one who should pay for what he’s done—and one day he will.”

  “But they know the kind of stress she must have been under when she wrote this. They can’t be taking that statement seriously.”

  “Well, it doesn’t help that Patricia is insisting Emily threatened her father several times to his face—something Emily, herself, denies.”

  “What a shrew that old woman is.” Jeff shifted irritably in his seat as he spoke.

  “Tell me. She wants Emily arrested, if you can believe that. Anyway, the police want Emily and Anthony to go in voluntarily for questioning tomorrow morning. I’ll be with them of course, but Jerry wants you to do some sleuthing and see if you can come up with something.”

  “Do you want us to swing by the house now?”

  “If you don’t mind, Gloria and I are going to take Emily home with us tonight, but she’d like to see you guys before we leave.”

  “Right, we’ll be there shortly.”

  Jeff filled Peter in with the latest developments.

  “What the hell is with Patricia?” Peter growled “Doesn’t she think Emily has been through enough hell in her life without her adding to it? To throw her own daughter to the wolves like this is plain unconscionable.”

  “Not to mention suspicious.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, if I’d killed my husband and didn’t want anyone accusing me of it, I’d try and throw suspicion at someone else.”

  “You mean Patricia could have done it?” Peter asked, glancing at Jeff with surprise.

  “No vibes there, huh?”

  “Not really, but maybe she’s worried the police might consider Anthony a suspect and she’d rather sacrifice Emily, rather than see her son, who is obviously her favorite, having to face an interrogation.”

  “That’s a possibility. But think of the torment this woman’s also gone through. Although she’s been in denial for years, she knows what went on, and she could have just snapped when Anthony told her what had happened to him.”

  “True. She couldn’t have been able to ignore that, like she did his molesting the girls.”

  “And then there is Anthony,” Jeff said. “Even though his story sounds all right, he has no alibi for the time his father was killed. He went to the baths. Okay, I can check that out. He met a guy in the bar. Maybe.”

  “He could have the guy’s phone number.”

  “Yeah, I’ll ask him.”

  “Jeff...I just thought of something.”

  “A psychic thought?”

  “No, just something I remembered. Yesterday, when I met Jerry for lunch he was almost twenty minutes late. He said he’d got caught up in some last minute business, but he looked kind of rumpled and agitated.”

  “Jerry?” Jeff was silent for a moment. “The motive’s there all right, no doubt about it. He’d just found out what Hastings did to Emily. Their offices are in the same part of town. He could have gone there, murdered Hastings then met you for lunch.”

  “Something else,” Peter said, remembering. “When I told him Emily’s father tried to rape her the night before, he said, ‘He’s better off dead.’ Not he would be better off dead.”

  “Could have been a slip of the tongue.”

  “Right, because none of this sounds like Jerry does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t, but I’ve found that people are pretty good at putting up appearances when they have something to hide.”

  “I doubt if he’d let Emily take the rap though.”

  “Well, they haven’t actually arrested her yet. He might be waiting to see what’s going to happen there.”

  “God, Jeff. What an awful thing. It would destroy Emily.”

  “Let’s hope we’re wrong, then.”

  “I hope Patricia did it.”

  “What?”

  “Well, it would be poetic justice in a way,” Peter said. “Wronged wife finally slays predatory husband. Something she should have done years ago.”

  “Wow, you are into an eye for an eye, aren’t you?” Jeff laughed at Peter’s dramatics.

  “Darned right I am. That old bastard should have been stopped long ago. Think of the evil he’s done in his lifetime.”

  “Yep,” Jeff responded. “Can’t argue there.”

  The atmosphere in the Hastings household was tense when Jeff and Peter showed up. Patricia still sat in her corner, glaring at the rest of the people in the room. Gloria sat with Emily and Jerry on the couch, talking in low voices. Johnny and Anthony were standing by the fireplace having a drink, also engaged in conversation.

  Emily looked up at Peter and tried to smile. “Thanks for coming guys.”

  “Anything happen since we last talked?” Jeff asked Johnny.

  “‘Fraid not. Have you had any thoughts on all of this?”

  “Several.” Jeff looked directly at Anthony. “None of them very flattering to the members of this family.”

  Anthony gaped at him. “You think I did it?”

  “Let’s put it this way.
I think you could have done it, Anthony. You hated your father, you’ve said so yourself.”

  “But I didn’t kill him.”

  “Tell me more about what you did yesterday. You said you met someone in a bar. D’you have his phone number?”

  “Yeah, like I said, we were going to meet later this week. He gave me his number so we could fix a time.”

  “Can I have the number?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Anthony,” Johnny put his hand on the young man’s arm. “Jeff is simply doing what we’ve asked him to. If he can check out your alibi, we’re one step ahead of the police who are bound to question you at some point.”

  “I know, I know…” Anthony tugged out a piece of paper from his jeans pocket. He handed it to Jeff who looked at the neat handwriting.

  “Mind if I call him?”

  “Just don’t tell him I’m under suspicion of murdering my father. I don’t think he’ll be too keen on having a date with a suspected killer.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it generic.”

  “Anthony,” Patricia wailed from her corner. “Please come and sit with me.”

  Jeff and Johnny watched as Anthony dutifully went over to his mother and sat on the floor by her side.

  “He’s going to have his hands full with her, I’m afraid,” Johnny remarked.

  Jeff pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll just make that quick call.”

  He walked into the kitchen and punched in the number Anthony had given him. He felt a rush of relief as he heard a man’s voice say, “Hi, this is Justin. Can’t take your call. Please leave me a message.” He didn’t leave a message, but instinctively he felt sure the rest of what Anthony had told them was the truth. Better check out the baths, he thought, just to be on the safe side. But he was pretty certain Anthony’s alibi would hold. He jotted down Justin’s phone number, just in case he’d need it again.

  He leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. A part of him still could not quite believe that Joey was gone. He knew they could never have been close friends again. Too much distance had grown in their separate lives over the years for them now to have been more than just casual friends. The Peter/Joey equation would never have worked out. Nevertheless, he would have been happy to see Joey finally succeed in what he did well. If only he hadn’t been such a user.

  “Hey…”

  He looked up as Peter walked into the kitchen. “Hey.”

  Peter put his arms around him and nuzzled his neck. “Still sad about Joey?”

  Jeff nodded then rested his head on Peter’s shoulder for a moment. “Thanks for being here with me.”

  “Come on. You’ve done enough here.” Peter kissed his cheek. “Let me take you home.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They went back into the living room, and Jeff returned the slip of paper with Justin’s phone number to Anthony. Gloria and Johnny were preparing to leave with Emily and Jerry. Anthony walked with them to the door.

  He hugged his sister.

  “Don’t worry Sis…I’ll talk to Mom and get her off this kick she’s on. She just doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  Emily looked at her brother gravely. “Yes she does, Anthony. Don’t let her fool you. She hates me and blames me for all of this.”

  “I’ll come with you and Johnny tomorrow when you make your statement. I can tell the cops she doesn’t mean any of this.”

  “That’d be good.” Johnny said. “I’ll pick you up around nine.”

  § § § §

  “I don’t know about you,” Peter remarked as he and Jeff drove down Coast Highway, “But I’m truly starving. We haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  “You’re right. I’d settle for just about anything yummy right now. You look mighty delicious.”

  “Hold that thought. I’ll serve myself up as dessert when we get home.” Peter pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant they had never been to before. “Let’s try this place. Andrew said it’s pretty good.”

  “Then it must be so,” Jeff laughed, getting out of the car. “By the way, have we heard from them yet?”

  “Yeah, I had an e-mail the other day. So much has been going on I forgot to tell you, and I haven’t answered it yet. He’ll be pissed.”

  “Well, you have many an excuse,” Jeff said, holding the restaurant door open for him. The warm air and home cooking smells assailed them, making them even hungrier. A pretty hostess showed them to a table and flirted with them both as she took their drink orders.

  “So, what did Andrew have to say?” Jeff asked after she left.

  “Oh, he misses us. David is at work all the time and he hasn’t found a job yet, so he’s thinking of becoming a male stripper or something.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Right…and if I know Andrew, he’ll soon pull it together and start his own business.”

  “So…” Jeff said, changing the subject. “Still think the mother did it?”

  “I didn’t say I thought she did it, I said I hope she did it.”

  “It’s quite a mess isn’t it? Charles Hastings murderer could be his wife, his daughter, his son, his future son-in-law…”

  “Or the butler, or the cook,” Peter added, grinning. “It’s beginning to remind me of that old Agatha Christie movie, Murder on the Orient Express. Turned out, everyone was the murderer!”

  Jeff chuckled. “I could use another of your psychic flashes round about now. Can’t you bring one on?”

  Peter frowned and looked down as if in total concentration for a moment, then he looked back up at Jeff and winked. “Nope, nobody home.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  “If only. It’s Jerry I keep worrying about. Now when I think back on when he met me for lunch, he looked…guilty.”

  “Mmm. Well, I can check out his story. Someone else at his office had to be involved in the last minute business he described.”

  “That’s true, and believe me, I hope I’m wrong about him.”

  “And Emily,” Jeff said. “Remember, she’s the one under most suspicion. Her mother has most definitely planted a seed in the detective’s minds.”

  “Huh…They’re way off base if they think for one moment she’s capable of murder,”

  “You know, Peter, that same thing has been said about many murderers. People have gone on oath to say a particular person could never have done such a heinous thing, and often they have been proved terribly wrong.”

  Peter’s eyes reflected his dismay. “Tell me you don’t think she did this, Jeff.”

  Jeff sighed. “I wish I could say that with complete certainty Peter, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Did you notice the strange looks Peter was giving me earlier?” Jerry asked, looking intently at Emily. They were at Gloria and Johnny’s house where Emily was staying for the time being. Their hosts had gone upstairs to bed, leaving Emily and Jerry alone to say goodnight.

  “Uh uh,” Emily murmured.

  “He thinks I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Murdered your father. I could see it on his face. He’s probably thinking that because I was late for our lunch date, I was in your father’s office sticking a knife in his head.”

  “A letter opener,” Emily said.

  “What?”

  “It was a letter opener, not a knife. See, you couldn’t have done it or you’d have known it wasn’t a knife.”

  Jerry smiled at her. “You should be a detective.”

  “Of course, you could have just used that slip to make it seem you hadn’t done it.”

  “Oh, great, now you think I did it.”

  “No, I don’t.” Emily kissed him on the cheek. “But, I wouldn’t blame you if you had, after what I told you the other night.”

  “Would you still love me if I had killed him?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to wait years for you to get out of jail.”

  “Y
ou know…” Jerry put his arms around Emily. “What I don’t get is, here’s your father lying in the morgue and no one is feeling any remorse. No one is crying for him. Are we all so unfeeling that we can’t spare one tiny feeling of regret for his passing?”

  Emily rested her head on his chest and sighed. “My father killed any feelings I had for him a long time ago. I can’t pretend I’m sorry he’s dead. I’m not sorry, Jerry. He was evil through and through. Just how evil I don’t think anyone really knows. Paula and I had firsthand knowledge of just how perverted he was, but I really believe it goes even further than that.”

  Jerry tightened his embrace around her. “I wish I had killed him—for you. When I think of what he did—”

  Emily put her finger to his lips. “Hush, Jerry. Don’t let’s go there. It’s over now. He can’t hurt me or Paula—or anyone, ever again. We’re finally free of him.”

  “But what about your mother? Her ranting, off the wall though it is, could really cause trouble.”

  “That’s all it is, Jerry—ranting. She really doesn’t believe it. She just hates me and wants to cause me more grief.”

  “But coming from her, your mother, must mean the police have to check it out.”

  “Look, Jerry…” Emily stepped back from his arms. “I’m sure every one of us is a suspect at the moment. We all have motive. The only person really in the clear, is Paula. She and her husband are in Vancouver on a business trip. Everyone else—you, me, my mother, Anthony, and who knows who else had motive and, maybe, the time to do it.”

  Jerry stared at her, for the moment, lost for words.

  “You’re forgetting me.” Gloria stepped into the room. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some hot tea. Anyone else?”

  They followed her into the kitchen. She glanced at them over her shoulder as she filled the electric kettle. “Remember I hated your father too. Ever since you told me what he’d done I’ve hated him, and then what he tried to do to you the other night—that really pissed me off.”

  “But, you didn’t do it, Gloria, did you?”

  “No, but I could have.” Gloria turned to face them. “Jerry, promise me you are going to look after this little girl and protect her with every fiber you have in your body.”

  Emily laughed softly. “Gloria, don’t be so dramatic.”